Penelope Thompson meditates with prisoners and finds that “one aware moment is as special and unique as another.”
“Dwelling in the present moment, I know it is a wonderful moment.” Thich Nhat Hanh, We Are All Doing Time, title of book by Bo Lozoff
Yesterday I was in the Twin Towers facility of Men’s Central Jail, to meet with the men on 131, those charged with non-violent sex offenses against teenagers. I come as a Buddhist chaplain, and as far as I know, these men have no other visitors aside from their attorneys. The deputies tend to view this group with distain; one asked me why I would want to associate with such filth. They show their distain by turning up the volume on the loudspeakers for the whole of my visit, so that it is challenging to hear or to speak over the announcements.
We have been together, some of us, for three years, learning and practicing meditation. Four of the original group are now serving prison terms and another has just been sentenced to eleven years and will be leaving soon; he tells us he will be fifty five when he is released. So now there is only one original member of the group left, a man in his early seventies, who is becoming an autodidact lawyer; he is going “pro per”, having let go several lawyers who he feels have been ineffective, unmotivated, unavailable or all three. The newer members have been coming for some months now and are meditating regularly on their own.
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We sit together, in the open space between the guard tower and the transparent walls behind which there are three pods, each housing 40 men. The television in each pod plays all day long, the station selected by the deputies, usually a sports station. The loudspeakers go on every few minutes all day long to announce pill call, meals being delivered, or attorney visits. Privacy and inner quiet are monumental challenges, for everyone, including me.
As always we sit together, nine of us in a circle. Always we meditate first. Usually newcomers are restless, anxious, experience difficulty with holding any concentration; they turn to look at passing inmates or guards, get distracted by the least sound, not to mention the loudspeaker, set so loud as to be painful to the ears. The fruit of their practice is palpable now. I can sense the energy that rises in the stillness, their focus and steadiness. They have made this their own, this practice. And I deeply trust or hope they will continue on their own, when or if they are sentenced to prison terms.
Now we are at ease with each other, there is much laughing and teasing. I was on vacation and missed two weeks of visits. One man asks if I had a good time when I was away. I say yes, I did, that I had been by the sea, which I deeply love. I tell the men that I had brought them there with me when I meditated. Then, to my own surprise at the truth of it, I said that there had been many wonderful moments on my vacation. And that when we had been meditating together earlier that morning, that had also been a wonderful moment for me. I could feel the strength of their concentration and effort and the exchange of deep energy that I had sensed in the group and in myself. I said I was always aware that when I came to the jail, I could walk out again, as they could not, and that was never out of my consciousness. So I was aware that what I wanted to share with them was from my perspective as a “free” person.
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I said it was important to me to notice that the moments of awakeness and contact near the sea were not “better” than that moment of connection with the circle, all of us together, benefitting ourselves and each other. I knew how true it was, how we hold up certain kinds of moments, certainly ones outside the jail, perhaps making love, or walking at the water’s edge or tasting some delicious food, as better. My own discovery was that this was not so. One aware moment is as special and unique as another. That moment with them was a gift to me, surely. I’m glad I spoke my discovery out loud. Because then I had another wonderful moment, the gift of having one man make eye contact with me and breathe deeply, as his eyes welled up. We are all doing time, indeed, and we can all heal, stringing these “wonderful” moments together on the invisible prayer beads of our lives.
—Photo –sam– on flickr
one moment not “better” than any other–that’s not easy to see. so much to learn from your short and powerful essay. thank you for sharing. good men project indeed. wow.
Penelope,
You are a truly dedicated and amazing woman. Thank you for sharing this amazing truth: that each moment is as full as the way that we inhabit it.
We are all lucky to have you.
Penelope it is so wonderful to have your story here after our what 40 year connection? Thank you for your words and your work.
Penelope, thank you for sharing your experience with meditation. The discipline of intentional connection is something I could sure use more of in my life.