Birthday Suit

The difficult thing about spending time with kids in prison is that you have to remind yourself as much as you love them, when they are released you will probably never see them again. There was a young man that I had become quite close to, primarily because he scared me, and I love a challenge. He was the biggest kid on facility, absolutely fierce for a 16 year old and had the energy of a wild tiger pacing in the cage at the zoo...ready to pounce from over boredom and rage that had been bottled up inside of him for years. He was veracious and always asked me about traveling and the places I had been and told me where he wanted to go.

On his birthday, he was being particularly difficult as many of them are, fits of rage, throwing things, cursing people out, and he went into seclusion not talking to anyone. When I found out what was happening, I asked if I could talk to him. We sat on the stoop in silence, he didn't yell at me, but he also didn't talk. Then, after what seemed like forever he lifted his head, staring straight ahead, still not looking at me and said "I was locked up last year for my birthday, and I promised myself it wouldn't happen again." I tried not to move, not to break the flow of his speaking, and despite my stillness I could feel the tears start to well up in my eyes. I thought about my own birthdays, full of family, friends, travel, loves, and how even in that fullness there could still be a sadness of being a year older and reflecting on my life and the choices I have made both for good and for hard. I can only image the pain of having none of that, being in a cell and reflecting on what got you there. He said "I want to travel, I want to get out of here a see the world, I'm gonna join the army and I'm going to see the world." "And, I looked at him and said, "You will, you will do all of that." "I'm going to go inside now" he said, and then he got up turned around and looked at me and said "Thanks Simone, I feel better." A few months later he left the facility, and I never heard a world of him.

I got a call a few weeks ago from a friend of mine who teaches drum classes in prisons, and he said "You're never going to believe who I ran into over at this other facility, I ran into your boy. He's in my drumming class." This was almost a year later, and I was in a combination of both joy to hear of his where abouts and also shock that he was locked up again at a higher security facility for a graver crime. So we made a plan for me to come visit, and surprise him.

 I was standing inside a large pen of barb wire, my heart pounding, I could hear it in my ears, I was nervous, I didn't know why but I was. Then I heard it, "Is that Simone? Oh my god it's Simone!" he was walking slowly towards me in his signature limp swagger with a pearly grin and he slowly leaned in to give me a hug and cupped my back with his big hands. I stepped back to look at him, he was older, he had become a man...stiller, more purposeful. Another few other guys came up and surround me and said "oh that's Simone, I heard about you." He smiled, looked away, and seemed embarrassed maybe both that he had spoke of me, and also that there I was seeing him locked up again.

The other boys left, and then he said softly"You remembered", and I thought for a moment and said "what?" And he said, "You remembered....it's my birthday, you came for my birthday again." I paused, I hadn't remembered, of course, but there I was a year later by pure grace, loving this boy on his birthday and telling him the world needs him. When I left he hugged me and said "One day I am going to travel with you, when I get out of here" and then held my gaze while our car drove away. I'm not sure what will happen to him, he's 18 now, no longer a child in the eyes of the government, a convicted felon. But, all I know is that somethings are meant to be, and when I went home I sent him a package with every map I had and a note saying "Go see the world, it needs you."

Love is patient, love is kind, and love don't take no shit.

I hadn't seen my prison boys for several weeks, and when I got there I was actually picked up, and moved like a football as many yards as I would physically withstand. The love that they share is more then I could ever express or deserve but I'll take it. There is something pure about the love that I share with them and that is why I crave it so much. With life threatening circumstances and trauma around the corner it is hard to get too far off track in pettiness.

But, what I really want to talk about in all this is how we heal. The process of healing, the process of loving which I have come to understand on a much deeper level then I ever thought I would. Love is patient, love is kind, and love don't take no shit. At times in my life I think I was afraid to hit the nail on the head because I didn't want to hurt people, or have them be mad at me, and there is something to be said for picking your battles, but in the long run you are not helping people by allowing them to spin webs of untruth. I am not afraid to have you (or your ego) hate me because if I continue to let you get away with this it is not good for you. Lying, cheating, stealing, you name it - in the long run it doesn't hurt me, but it would hurt them, and I had to call it out....and sometimes I was hated for it. Shedding light in sore places is never easy, and most the time people will want to tell you to shut the f*ck up, attack you, blame you, which sucks - but if you are doing it for the right reasons I say progress. I say push on...and there was never one time that I did that that it didn't come back to bless me, even if it was months or years later. You are never doing someone a favor by enabling them to do things that hurt them self and others in the long run, only to feel more at ease in the moment. Put your ego aside, and speak the truth for others and for yourself, for that is real love and how we all become better people.

Real Men do Time.

"Do you have a boyfriend?", one of several questions I get almost everyday at the facility, along with "How do you make your money?" and "do you give private yoga lessons where you put your leg behind your head?" To all of which I reply I can't answer that question. It's a challenge, a real challenge to keep your personal life separate with these guys for many reasons but the first is that they put them self out there. They share so much of them self,  which helps them heal, and it almost seems unfair to not be able to show them the same courtesy, but I have to maintain those boundaries.

The other day one kid said to me "I bet you used to date rich and famous guys, and now you're into gangsters, huh?" I laughed and shook my head, but realized in that moment he wasn't too far off. I thought about my real hero's Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, and I realized they all have done time...and I see that many of these young men posses those same qualities. Fearless to face the unknown and to put themselves on the line for a truth that is bigger then the confines of society. Not doing everything in order to maintain looking good, or avoid looking bad to other people. Really battling their demons (and we all have them) be it addictions, angers, or fears. And, an emergence of a honest and real self that is not built on a lifestyle or network cushion, but a soul that can't be beat.

I wanted to thank you, for you to be the first one that I thank. I don't want to say that I couldn't have done it without you, this whole becoming a better person thing, but I couldn't have done it without you. 

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.