I trust you with my phone...i mean my life.

There is a secret to trust. Trust people and they become trust worthy. Something i have come to realize working with kids from jail. Treat them as criminals and that's how they act, in fact, that's how they expect you to treat them. Trust them and they don't know what to do with it. So sometimes when I am in the process of getting to know a kid i will drop one of our most valuable modern possessions in their hands: my phone or my keys and sit back to watch.

"Here watch this for a minute, I just have to do something real quick." They look at me with eyes wide of wonder. Contemplating if they really want to steal my 1998 Ford Escort that rattles like it's driving on train tracks on even the most perfect concrete. "Well, at least it's a car" i see the thoughts splinter through their soul. And yet, when i return to collect my prized item and i see them guarding it like a lioness watching her cubs. "Here are your keys, I got them for you." They are proud, they strut around with them like a metal on their neck.

Last week i dropped this little gem on a young man whom i adore. "Here will you watch my phone for a second, i'll be right back." To put this in context you need to understand that some of these boys have been locked up for years, are not allowed to make phone calls unless with their therapist, have no access to Internet, and are between the ages of 14 to 18. A phone is temptation city. I returned a few minutes later, and saw him fiddling with my phone, and just walked over and said "Hey can i have it back, i need to use it a second." He turned ghost white and handed the phone over. A few minutes later he walked over to me and said "Hey Simone, can I talk to you for a second in private, this is really important." "Sure, no problem" i said, and then it began - tears welling up in his eyes. "I know you trust me, you trust me so much, enough to leave your phone with me and I did something terrible. Terrible, I don't think you will ever be able to forgive me, or speak to me ever again. And, that's ok. I'll understand, you won't want to talk to me, and I won't be able to sleep tonight. And, you are one of the best people to me, really one of the best people I have ever met to me and I betrayed you...your trust." And, it just kept going. "What are you talking about?" I said to him. "Well, when i had your phone i started to go on a website with girls on it, but then I stopped myself...." He was shaking.

I don't know what you are thinking but at this point I was both touched, and beguiled. It is beyond a shadow of a doubt that adults, not in jail, do worse things with less remorse everyday. He is a fifteen year old boy locked up, and has been for several years. If he didn't want to look at a pretty girl now and then I would be worried. But, I didn't say that to him, I paused and saw that this was a valuable experience in the beauty of our own conscious. Maybe a teaching moment that he could use the rest of his life. I also know this kid, I know his background, have read his files, know about the years of sexual abuse from his own family, the guilt he carries, and it was all coming out in this gesture. "Do you believe in forgiveness" I said to him." "Yeah, well I like to think that people can forgive, I but i don't really believe it" Again, he started to sob. "Do you believe that if you are honest, acknowledge a fault with a genuine heart that it's over with?" "Oh i would like to believe so Simone, but I've never seen it, I don't know I just am so sick right now, I'm so disappointed in myself, I hope that god can forgive me, I hope that I can still go to heaven." "Well, I'm not god, and I don't have all the answers but I have a feeling that god has ten times the amount of love and forgiveness that i do, and I forgive you. done, simple, wiped clean, like it never happened. Thank you for being honest with me, that takes a lot of courage and I respect that." He looked at me this fifteen year kid towering over me, his eyes wide, tears pouring out, and then he leaned over and hugged me. There are hugs, and then there are hugs like this - the kind you will never forget where years of pain, grief, guilt, and sadness lift in a moment. His body hung over my little self, and he rocked me as he sobbed convulsing. I had to choke back tears as he held me, and i let him do it even though this is way beyond our boundary codes. I have never been held that way in my life. He pulled away and pulled a necklace off his neck, one i had seen him wear ever since i could remember - and he stuffed it in my hand and walked away...and that was it. The slate was indeed wiped clean.

Yoga is Gangsta

"Do you give private yoga lessons where you put your leg behind your head?" A question I get on a weekly basis at the facility. To all of which I reply...no. No private yoga, no leg behind the head for you...but not this kiddo, this kiddo was different. He was quiet, and had a calming presence and his first question to me was..."What does yoga mean?" I smiled at him and said "Union with God." His eyes widened with delight and a gleeful smile danced across his face and he said...."That's...gangsta..." From then on he was my yoga baby. He called me "Little Homie" which was comical because he was one of the few kids on facility smaller than I. Sometimes I would get the occasional "What up Loke?" which was the ultimate compliment and I beamed at the reference. He had become one the the more dedicated yoga and meditation practitioners I'd seen. He asked all sorts of questions, diligently showed up to class...I said he was my protege, and he glowed with pride at every mention of his work.

They were calling me on the walkie talkie, but I didn't have one on on me, so I couldn't respond. I walked up and asked one of the staff what was going on...they said it's your boy, your yoga boy. Something went down and I thought you could help. My heart lerched...and grabbed the walkie. "This is Simone, is he still here, is he on site?" "10:4". Ten four...he's here, but leave it alone. I whirled around and started to run. I didn't have to go far, and I came upon a group of people, police, probation officers, administration, therapists, and clients. It was a mess, and then I saw him somewhere in the deep sea of chasos. They had him in the middle of this group, outside on the cement tied to a folding chair, hands cuffed behind his back, his head sunk down. His entire face was swollen and red, his eyes bloodshot, his chest pounding....I walked up to a therapist and asked "Can I talk to him?". "No, let the staff deal with it." It was firm gesture that said get your inexperienced ass outta here. I started to walk away and then he looked up, saw me, and froze. One of the head administration walked up to me and said "Can I help you Simone?" "I heard they were trying to walkie me, but I didn't have a walkie on me...can I talk to him?" "We have it covered" was the response. It was firm, brisk, almost rude...a don't over step your bounds on this one little miss. Well obviously they had it covered, but did they have him taken care of? I started to walk away but noticed the kid didn't take his eyes off me, so I didn't put my back to him. I calmly, and slowly backed away, and allowed his gaze to lock with mine. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever...and then a nod "What up little homie?" he mouth whispered. "How are you my boy?" i responded... "Chillin..." he smiled. "Chilling"....chilling with your hands in hand cuffs, your feet tucked in a folding chair, fifty probation kids watching you, police surrounding you, your probation officer breathing down your neck, and an entire team of staff blocking anyone from coming into a fifty foot radius of you. "I got you" I said in my head..."I got you yoga baby"...I gently put my hand to my heart. He nodded and smiled. I knew his soul he had heard what I had said, the message was there.

Several days before this incident we had a break through in meditation together. He asked his internal guide if there was a way that he could be happier, was it more money, a job, girls...and his internal guide told him that all those things were temporary, didn't last, and that he was looking for something deeper. Something more he told me. A kid locked up on the verge of enlightenment...something more I have no doubt he will find, because yoga is gangsta, and he is the ultimate seeker. I was reminded in this instance that real connections need no words. A knowing glance across a crowed room in a storm full of insanity, says more then anything. It marks the true test of understanding...the I got your back, love you, and you are not alone that surpasses all circumstances. That's it, bar none. That was the last moment I saw him, and will probably ever see him again. But, it's ok because we had it. What most people yearn for in their entire life time, a truth, an understanding of something deeper and someone that gets that depth in you...and no one, nothing, i mean nothing can ever take that away....

Bye Simone, Love you Simone.

He never spoke a word to me, in fact it was widely recognized that he didn't speak to me...most the kids on the facility knew he didn't talk to me and I had acted like it was no big deal. In my presence he spoke about how he hated white women, how he thought they were arrogant, spoiled, and only liked to spend time with people of their own kind. He never said it directly to me, but it was clear every time I was around...I was the audience he was speaking of. If I ever aimed a comment at him like "Hello", or "Hey, how are you?" it was met with a blank stare and a look away...I was clearly talking to a brick wall and my gestures were all met with failure.

Photo By Allen Wyler

I wouldn't be being honest if I said it didn't bother me at all, although I smiled and for the most part let the comments roll over me or through me, or whatever the hell you are supposed to do when someone hates you and pretends you don't exist all at the same time. Plainly, it sucks...to feel that anything you do or say, or simply your very way of being is not enough.

I was leaving the facility the other day and starting walking out the door after my round of good byes and heard someone say "Bye Simone, Love you Simone." I didn't think too much of it, as the "I love you's" have gotten more frequent in my time at the facility....but my heart still gets a bit twitterpated when I hear it. I turned around to see what young gentleman I should bestow a smile and a wave at as I headed out the door. I looked around, and there he was...the silent serpent that had spewed nothing but venom towards me for six months. I tried not to trip over my own foot when I turned around, or make a big deal, or say "I love you" back, or "thank you..." Which I've learned is even worse...as one kid once told me smilingly "dat's coold Simone, dat's cold." It was a frozen moment where I caught a beautiful wild leopard peacefully drinking water from a still pond, and didn't want to spook it as it might run away...or attack me. So I swallowed, nodded and smiled and then went out the door.

"Bye Simone, Love you Simone." The words rolled around in my head like marbles as I left...the first words he had ever spoke to me in six months. It was shocking for two reasons, one: that he noticed I was leaving...noticed my presence, and that it had some how impacted his life enough to say good bye to me when I left. The other was that he loved me. In what way, in what time, on what planet had he come to love me? Obviously it was a planet I did not understand in the slightest, but I'll take it I said to myself. I will take that damn love...and know that everyone comes to trust, love, and grow in their own time, and it's perfect. It's all gloriously perfect.

Helping Others to Help Ourself...

There was no doubt he was depressed. He was fifteen, his mom had been in prison or rehab most his life, his Dad was an alcoholic. Department of Family and Children Services took him from his home...they would release him to his Dad if his Dad did AA. His Dad refused, so he was in placement for good...owned by the state, a child left to nothing but his own devices.

He rarely smiled, I couldn't get him to do any activities. One time he asked me why I spent time at the facility. I said I wanted to "give back", to help others. He looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would you do that? Why not just live your life, and enjoy it. No one ever did anything for me, why would I do anything for anyone else?" The next day his mother's birthday came, and she was going to come visit him...he casually said to me that she was coming but he felt stupid that she was coming, and he had nothing to give her anyway.

I said, I have an idea. I grabbed a handful of guys and took them into the art supply room. "Let's make a sign for his mother, a happy birthday sign..." The boys looked at me...with sort of curious faces and then out of nowhere took off in a whirl wind of creativity. The paint was flying, hands racing, stencils rocking, ex-taggers using their vandalism skills for fine art. I watched this kids face stand there in awe as all these others kids he barely talked to help him make a sign for his mother. He was trying not to show it, but he was stoked. The sign, was beautiful, it came out something to the effect of Banky meets Monet and a homemade card.

After his mom came for the visit, he came up to me, and said "Simone, I gave my mom the sign, and she...well, she cried. I've never seen my mom cry like that before. I think she's gonna hang it up in the living room of her house or something crazy like that..." The look on his face was something I will never forget. It was as if the long winter of his life got a moment of sunshine, and he began to thaw out for a minute. The pure joy of giving to his mother, and making her happy made him feel good about himself, and made him feel valuable. It also made him forget, even for just a moment to not be angry at her, hate her, and allow her to simply be for one day.

There is no doubt that making that sign for his mother made her day, but I was more focused on him, and how the pure act of doing something good for someone else made him shine. It was a reminder of how often we focus on ourselves, our own problems and how sometimes the best way to fix your own problems is to help others on their journey and in that you find own bliss.

Mending Souls...

I brought in a sewing kit some months ago to the facility because I wanted to teach the boys how to sew. I love it, and I find it very relaxing. At first they stated that it was gay, boring, and looked at me like I was crazy...(a loving look I get from them about ten times a day, "you crazy girl".) Then the first boy came forward with something that had been given to him by his grandfather that needed sewing.

Last week I came into the facility and about fifteen guys were lined up waiting for class. They all yelled out, Simone, Simone!! Do you have your sewing kit??!! I have a hackie Sac/pillow/rain coat/ shirt/ shoe/ football glove/pair of pants that need to be sewn. If one were to look at this in an incorrect light they would say.."who the hell do you think I am? Sewing all your bullsh*t stuff for you." But they are not looking for "handouts" or free labor. They are looking for healing...and at that moment I realized how drastically they had changed in even just a few months time.

Each time I sew something with a boy, they sit with me paciently and watch and try to learn themself how to sew the item. The item is almost always a beloved object that has withstood the test of time and wear through numerous placements, juvenile hall, camp, and horrific family situations. While we are sewing, the story, history, or value of the object is always very clear. I watch them relax, and a peace come over them as we sew. I listen to them talk, and I feel the tears, holes, rips in their heart slowly start to mend stitch by stich. Old stitches are pulled out, and new ones are put in. It is not an over night process, but it helps. I have come to realize that no progress with these boys happens over night, but that every step along the way is important.

My hope is that one day each one of these young heroes mends the pain in their heart, and only with love, work, and time the scars will fade, and the fabric of their life will have a different hue.
I now carry my keys, badge, and a small sewing kit in my back pocket when entering the facility.

Running Away to get Close...

This week was a hard...there were some moments that I thought to myself. I don't know if I can do this. Sometimes working with theses kids feels like trying to fill the grand canyon with buckets of water from the ocean. A never ending task, and the kids in need just keep coming...

There was one boy who AWOLED from the facility (Absence with out Leave) and while he was running several guys tried to get him. They eventually asked me if I could try to get him, because we were fairly tight, and I caught up to him. As I got close it was hard to keep in stride because he was bigger then me...he saw me and then jay walked across the street. I didn't want to jay walk, so I stopped and watched him. When he saw that I had not caught up with him, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye and then slowly turned around and leaned on a metal pole at the corner and looked at the ground. I watched completely in shock as this big seventeen year old kid who was "running away" waited for me. Time seemed to stand still as the green traffic light flickered and cars raced by. I could see him watching me through the cars, starring at me even though his head was still pointed towards the ground. He's waiting me for me...i kept thinking to myself...why is this kid that is running away waiting for me to catch up?

The traffic light turned yellow as cars started to slow down. Then red. I started to walk and as I put my head up and slowly and calmly moved towards him there was a burning sensation in my eyes. My head throbbed as I held back tears and moved closer towards him. He continued to wait standing there and then he looked up at me. His eyes were blood shot, his light black skin glowed in the dusky light, but there was a smile in his sadness. He put his hood back up and in his all black clothing he seemed to disappear into the city. Like a thousand other kids that sleep on the streets at night. We started to walk together in stride, not saying a word. He kept pace with me not going so fast that I would loose him. I looked at him and thought what can I do? What can I say to this kid to get him to come back? So I asked him...

"If you were me, and you were in my situation, what would you do?" The question seemed to shock him and linger, and he stayed silent and still for awhile, and then he said. "Let me make my own choice." I thought about it for a moment and bit my tongue while thousands of rebuttals popped into my head. Then I finally said..."What can I do to help?" And, as clearly and simply as I ever have heard in my life he said..."Walk with me." So I did, and we did. No one wants to be alone. No one who is running really ever wants to be alone. We all have to make our own choices, and sometimes it is hard, but in the end sometimes the best thing you can do, the most compassionate thing you can do is walk with them for a bit on their journey...

I wish him a peaceful ride.

The Uncommon Love Letter...

It's time to write a love letter. Forgive me, but to love something so much you loose sleep in concern for its' well being, because you think about it all the time you forget to eat, and every moment you are not with them you are thinking and planning about the next time that you will spend together...has not been in my mode of operation. Forever a free spirit, forever on the roam...this feeling is overwhelming, it's scary, but it's none the less the only thing that is true.

The object of my adoring both surprises me and also makes the most sense. You boys from prison. These young hero's from foster parents, gangs, orphaned, owned by the state, or from drug infested families are more strong, funny, honest, loyal, and simply more MAN than anyone I've met.

You've placed a tall order. I realize that I seek to become the biggest, most selfless, most honest, most real, deepest version of myself that I can become. And no one has allowed me to do that, has required that of me in the same way, until you. I never understood the value of loyalty until I saw 60 boys all not say a word because they didn't want to "snitch" on one boy regardless of the rewards offered. I've never seen humility and unawareness of the strength and the power one possesses...until I saw an 11 year old raise 5 younger siblings in an abandoned shed. I've never seen someone dive and throw them self in front of a whizzing baseball, or climb the top of a roof just to protect the life of another. There is anger inside you, but there is much more forgiveness...forgiveness to people who have hurt you and atrocities endured that I could not even begin to understand the pain. I make mistakes, I make them all the time, and when I do , you shrug and smile and say it's no problem. No grudges, no counts of yesterdays wrongs, today is ALWAYS new, always a fresh day with new circumstances.

You ask me how I'm doing no matter how terrible your situation is at the moment, and a smile, a hug, and an unbelievable sense of humor or wise crack is never more then a moment away. You push boundaries, but it only makes me appreciate you all the more because I realize I push boundaries too, and there is nothing wrong with testing the limits. Many people were afraid of me spending time with you, even most of you yourselves warned me not to. They say that you are the toughest "population"...but I've found that you are not a population, you are an endless army of unique and glorious men that have simply been hurt. If you don't walk to the edge you will never see what's out there, and only with you pushing me have I been able to see what was inside of me. You are not afraid of feelings, not afraid to fight for what you need, and not concerned with what it looks like, how it sounds or if it makes people mad. There is a never a moment that goes by that something unexpected doesn't happen, and I have had to throw expectations out of my vocabulary. Volatile: yes, dangerous: sometimes, boring: never. There is a clarity and a purity in that, and I for one find it incredibly refreshing and intimate. It scares me in moments when I feel closer to some of you, then friends I've had for years. I always feel that you have my back, that you genuinely want what is best for me. Why? Because you go there. Where is there? Anywhere that needs to be gone that most people are afraid to go, you say it. And that is the only territory, the only path I'm really interested in, the real one.

I cannot tell you that I love you...it would entirely inappropriate and confusing. But maybe, just maybe, I can share this love with other people, express it, so that in some small way I might be able to put back into the world and inspire others to feel a fraction of the love that you have bestowed upon me....love is getting outside yourself to nurture other's growth even in times when you are past your own limits, desires, or need gratifications. It's an action, a simple gesture of no matter if you hate me I will not let you fall...it rarely flatters, is often messy, always honest, but it's the most fulfilling, lasting satisfaction one can find on this earth.

My darlings, I Love You...and on the "low key" you blow the roof off what I thought was possible both in life and in love.

Planting Seeds...

I've been gardening with boys from the halls...they did not seem to have interest in it. Most of them have hours of community service to work off that was mandated by court, so if anything it is a reasonable way to work down the hours. After they did the time allotted they would come to me, and immediately have me write down and keep track of the hours to get their credit.

Then I went away for some travel commitments, and just let the garden do what it should, hoping that it wouldn't be completely fried by the time that I came back. I came back a few days ago, and walked over to the garden...I barely recognized it. The mint that we had planted was over flowing, the basil was twice as tall with flowers, all the weeds and the trash that had been in the garden before had been removed. I went around to the boys, and asked them... who did this???!! Who took care of the garden while I was gone so I can give them community service? One boy told me he had seen this other boy watering it every morning and every night, this is a boy that barely will talk to me, and when I asked him...he denied it. Another boy said he saw someone else weeding it, and picking up the trash, and so on and so forth. I got many names, and talked to many people, and nothing was confirmed, and no one wanted any credit for the work on the garden. What I came to understand was that they all had been working on it, in their own way and their own time...they wanted to invest in the garden but they didn't want anyone to know that they cared. Never underestimate the work that you are doing or the impact that it may be having on someones' life. No matter if they are able to show that they care or not, the tenderness and affection may shine through subtly in time...do good regardless : )

White People Who Care....

A thought from a young prison boy this week...

"I used to think it was me against the world. I went to court and no one was there, no family, nothing. Then I came here. I think god sent you to me as an angel, to show me something, to teach me something. I never met white people who care. I think life is like a puzzle, and you put it together piece by piece, and when you are all done with the puzzle something beautiful happens. I just get angry when people get in my way from completing the puzzle."

I never thought about my color making a strong impact on the work that I do. Let this be a lesson to all of us, that we may not realize the unique tools we bring to the table until we do it...after this comment it made me think about starting a non-profit org. called "White People who Care"...then I realized it would mostly be comprised of my very ethnically diverse friends....ah well..."Be the change you wish to see in the world."

Magic Moment.

I had a magic moment last week...a simple moment but one of the more meaningful things that has happened to me in awhile.

I continue to spend time with kids on probation from prison. These are tough kids, and are from some of the more notorious and infamous LA gangs. A young man from the Bloods is a large and intimidating black kid from Watts. He is smart, and quick, has beat up most of the kids in the facility, but very few have seen him do it. He also runs a lot of underground stuff, of which everyone is aware, but again it's hard to catch him because he is so smooth. I never had a bad relationship with him, but also hadn't been able to make a connection with him either. He watched me a lot, very distrustful, often defiant, and always aloof. One day I was talking and I saw him watching me and listening, and then while I was talking he came up closer to me then he ever had before and gently and slowly pulled a leaf out that had caught in my hair. I stayed simple and kept talking slowly and just let him do it. At that moment I knew that the connection had been made. The next day he helped me make sandwiches for the homeless, the day after that he swept and mopped the floor with a simple smile and nod when I asked him. It was a small gesture, a simple thing, pulling that leaf from my hair...but it was a magic moment for me. A small reminder that if you stay consistent, genuinely love, and allow people to unfold in their own time the truth will arise all on its own.

To Love Haters...

I've been spending time recently with kids on probation from Juvenile Hall. I learn from all the people I work with, although these young men have been some of my greatest teachers yet. They are survivors, and at a very young age have learned coping skills that the rest of us may not cultivate in an entire life time...A few days ago I was talking to a young man who was laughing and joking and telling story after story. He is ridiculously funny, and at moments has me in tears. When he was joking with me some kid came up, and just starting ragging on him, pretty hard core...and he just turned to me and started laughing. He said "You know, I love haters, seriously anyone need to have someone to hate on, pleease hate on me. I love to be of service. Everybody always have to have someone to hate on, and I always like to have three or four hating on me." And then beamed at me...

I found myself thinking about this a lot that night after I went home. How often I try to be kind, or not hurt people's feelings, or feel bad if someone is hating on me. And, I thought how this young kid, on probation from jail, had actually learned to deal with the people that hate him. Not only was he ok with them, but he actually welcomed them, and he even loved them when they hated. Enlightened? I think so...as a wise man called Jesus once said "Love your enemies." This is the highest form of unconditional love and it takes a life time of continual practice.

Thank you Kiddo.

Star Star...Teach me how to Shine Shine...

Stars shine because their gravitational force and internal pull is falling so quickly towards their own center that they emit light...this is the perfect metaphor for how to shine in the world.

Be centered, be true, be real, and you will shine...in the only way that matters...the way that makes life bigger, brighter, better, and fuller by authentically loving everything with embraced arms that comes across your path. The harder it may seem to love the more important it is to do.

Happy New Year World. Make 2011 Shine Bright!