Beyond The Wall

Letters from Prison

2-18-07

I just came back from the visitation room and saw something there that I just had to write about. In the serious, restricted environment of that room, a free spirit in the form of a little boy decided to have some fun. What a delight it was to see this and to write, “Domino Lessons!”

Seasons of the Soul arrived a few days ago and I have shared it with some of the fellows here and mailed it out to a friend. Each issue seems to get better and better and I am humbled and grateful to be a part of it. (for more information about Seasons of the Soul, go to www.kathleenjacoby.blogs.com)

Later this year I’ll be eligible to try for a hearing by phone with the clemency board. It’s a long shot, but I’m going to give it my best. When I see all the changes taking place in the “outside world”, I realize how isolated I’ve been. It’s like I’ve been on another planet where time is frozen. Someday when I walk out of here, I’ll be stepping into a different world, one that has a much faster pace, one that, in some ways, has left me behind. There is one area, though, where I feel ahead. That’s my inner world. Ant that, more than anything else, will help me to find my way in the world outside these walls.

I feel as though layers of armor have been peeled away. What is left is a tenderness that feels and responds in a way I’ve never known before. My journey has become deeper and richer as I learn to embrace it all.

George Sheehan eloquently expressed this maturing process when he wrote, “As you grow older, you evolve from body to mind to spirit, and as you let go of once supreme pleasures, you discover even finer new pleasures.”

Cries of the Heart

by Charles “Tom” Brown
Copyright 2007

As a teacher’s aide in the Arizona prison system, I often help students to prepare for their GED essay requirement. To prepare for this, they are given the format and the topic for their essay. A recent topic was, “If you could have one wish, what would it be?” and I assumed that most would be wishes to get out of prison or something of that nature. Instead, many were cries of the heart…cries to love and be loved.

One essay stated, “If I could have one wish, I would wish for a letter from my mother. She hasn’t written to me in years and it would mean so much to me to get a letter from her.”

Another inmate has a two-year old daughter who is with foster parents and he declared that his wish would be to hear his daughter on the phone. I told him that she wouldn’t be able to say much at the age of two, and he replied, “I just want to hear the sound of her voice.”

As I read these essays, I am reminded that we never lose our deep basic need to connect with soulfulness of each other’s heart. Each of us has a story to tell and we are traveling our personal road of transformation. Taking part in another’s dream or conflict or unresolved past is a deeper way of listening, a deeper way of being present. The reward for such deep listening is the incredible honor of witnessing a living model of human courage and then finding comfort and healing in the surprise that our stories are really the same.

Listening to another’s story somehow gives us the strength of example to carry on, as well as showing us aspects of ourselves we can’t easily see. Listening to the stories of others and the cries of their hearts is a kind of water that breaks the fever of our isolation. If we listen closely enough, we are soothed into remembering our common name.

I believe that when we express our truth, it releases light and warmth. I believe it is the way our spirit shines. These essay writers are my medicine. And I am theirs. We are members of a broken whole. And we will heal…a stitch, a song, a cry at a time.

Letters from prison

1-21-07

Thank you so much for the money order. It really helps me, and I’m deeply grateful.

Enclosed is an essay that I felt very deeply. It was inspired by some essays that I’ve been reading. When I asked my students to write an essay on what their wish would be for 2007, I expected to get responses like, “getting out of prison” or “winning a lot of money” …something like that.

Instead, most of them were what I would call “cries of the heart.” They described the need to connect with others, the need to not feel alone.

I’ve written a lot of words about facing our fears and surrendering into the darkest of nights, of letting go of all that we cling to. And sometimes they seem like trite meaningless symbols of what is going on deep inside us.

Times like these when we cry out with our heart are times in life when we are the most human, and we’re the most divine when we’re the most human.

Letter from Tom

1-05-07

It’s early morning (4AM), and I just wanted to connect with a kindred spirit. Sometimes in these early morning quiet hours, I wonder about things. I wonder if I’ll live long enough to get out of prison. And then I wonder how I’ll survive when I do get out. These thoughts are not empowering, so I won’t stay here for long. It’s where I am as I write this, though, and I want to be completely open about it.

In your last letter you wrote, “I’ve been in a low point – little inspiration and a need to review how to proceed.” We have been through a lot, haven’t we? So many laughs. So many tears. It has taken all of it, though, to bring us to where we are today, to this moment, and I like the space we’re in.

I believe the best gift we humans can give each other is our authenticity, our real thoughts and feelings, and I appreciate the honesty and heartfelt feelings you expressed in your last letter. When we share our truth, as you did, it releases light and warmth. It makes our spirit shine.

May we remember that we’re not alone, and that we are loved.