My spirits are on the uptick today. The morning sunrise was inspiring, strikingly colorful and mesmerizing. I could not take my eyes off it. I watch ol' Sol give Rainier a morning bath, then rise up ready to chase Mister Moon across the heavens and over the western horizon. A glorious way to start a day!
Another fisticuffs situation today...UGH! I heard it but I didn't see it. I was under my blanket practicing morning prayers so I decided to stay with something positive and not turn over to watch the action. When I heard what I thought was a fist hitting a skull, it was difficult to focus yet I persisted. There was lots of grunting, extremely vulgar language and the sound of slapping. "The tank" woke up and began voicing encouragement to "hit him again" and "he's down, kick'im". I heard someone say "The guard is just standin' there watchin'." At some point over the loudspeaker came "Code Blue, Code Blue...seven south, upper B". That's us! Both tribesmen were taken to the hole and their bunks are now ready for new tenants. Welcome to my world...a world that would have once terrified me into a dark place now becomes a movie of sorts, where I am amazed at "man's inhumanity to man". No longer a small boy living in fear of the man who might beat me, I am a good man who is saddened by the world in which I find myself. I think I have an addiction (tongue in cheek here!). This morning the commissary brought coffee to all who had the coins to order it! I was one of the fortunate. Haven't had a cuppa for 10 days...count 'em...TEN DAYS! After my first cup (made with the hottest tap water I can find at 6AM ...from the bathroom pipes!), I was amazingly content. After the second mug, my body was completely satisfied. Is coffee the REAL MEANING OF LIFE?? :) Of course not...but "the tank" seems lighthearted at the moment....that counts for a meaningful HOORAY! Just saw an ad for HnR Block. Felt like I was kicked in the gut. I won't be helping taxpayers this year...or ever again. I'm an Enrolled Agent (EA), licensed by the Department of the Treasury. (Google that one...EA!) I have had forty years of experience representing clients before the IRS. When I am sentenced, that license will disappear! I'm aware of how much my self-esteem is connected to being a "professional" and it does hurt to lose that EA designation. I don't have the vocabulary to describe that pain that the HnR Block ad caused me. About twenty minutes later there was a similar ad for Jackson Hewitt. Tis the season. I'll be seeing many of these TV spots in the weeks to come. I hope I get used to them. MAIL!! I love receiving cards and letters....wink, wink, nod, nod! Got two letters this afternoon...call me Happy Camper! :) I also received two books yet I am uncertain about the source of these gifts!! By the time they get to me, books have all traces of mailing and all reference to the sender destroyed. SO I will list the author and title and say THANK YOU right here! It's such a challenge to be stimulated intellectually in "the tank". Reading and writing gives me a chance to get into my head so MANY THANKS FOR ALL THE BOOKS!! Received: Lullaby Town by Robert Craig and Mirage by Clive Cussler....for now, if you're reading this, you know who you are...and I THANK YOU FOR THE GREAT GIFTS!! What I really miss is a lively conversation...oh well, must be part of the punishment! One more 2014 sunrise tomorrow...I'll be there to watch it! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY for anyone born on December 31. Call your parents and remind them of the tax deduction you game them...HAH! Next post will be next year...2015...an 8 year...no idea what that means?!@# Anybody out there know?? OVER AND OUT...
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Tossing the tank...My home, "the tank", was "tossed again tonight. Seven guards sneak up the stairs, burst into our quarters, yelling and screaming "Stop what you're doing! Don't move! Stand still!". I'm reminded of a childhood game...red light, green light. The lead guard, the first thru the door, always has a certain look on his face and he carries a large canister of mace. Once our custodians are sure we aren't hiding any contraband, we are marched out to "the yard"...a room with vents that allow the chilly air of the out of doors to come inside. The guards line us up facing away from them, legs spread apart, arms overhead, palms flat on the wall...what once was excruciating in terms of shame is now just "another night in the tank"! With enthusiasm, they check our legs, arms and torsos. Then they "hook" their thumbs inside the waistband of our undies (at the hips) and shake us. You'd be surprised at what falls out and down the various pant legs: pills, sugar packets, Koolaid packages, yeast!! When we return to "the tank", it looks as tho' Homeland Security was called in to search for weapons of mass destruction. But my bunk space is only twenty-one square feet so it's doesn't take long to "put it right" again. DepressionIt probably started with the holidays or maybe the holidays were the tipping point. Months of being in "the tank" have taken their toll. I feel like I've dropped down to the next lower level in Dante's Inferno. I think there are twelve levels. Twelve...mmmmm. Twelve Israelite Tribes - Twelve Zodiac Signs - Twelve Hours in a day - Twelve Months in a year - Twelve Stations of the Cross. Even The Brothers Karamazov is written in Twelve Books. Twelve seems to be an important number. But I digress; forgive me...it's not easy keeping a focus in "the tank" while the tribal warriors hoot and holler at the guests (or are they really contestants?) on Gerry?Jerry Springer. The composition of "the tank" has changed once again. The air is thick with anger and aggression (YUP...more bloody fisticuffs!). We have a man convicted of second degree murder with us, awaiting his transfer to prison. And another tribesman who is awaiting sentencing for a domestic violence incident. I thought this tank was for minimum security inmates. I was wrong! We are part of THE GENERAL POPULATION! I also thought I was finished with the five stages of grief yet it seems I keep spiraling back around to DEPRESSION. An old friend used to tell me when he was melancholy that he was feeling "lower than a snake's hips!". THAT IS LOW and, well, that's how I feel today. I tried reading Pema Chodron. That didn't help. I could not concentrate on her words. Sometimes re-reading the cards and letters ya'll have sent to me pulls me up. I'll give that a try after I take a nap. The nap started out fitful but I finally slipped into a deep sleep. When I woke, I read your letters again and I feel a little better. THANK YOU!! I am amazed and humbled at the number of people who still care about me. Missing mama earth...I often think...if only I could go for a walk in nature. That would cheer me up. This concrete box is beginning to be claustrophobic for me. I'm getting "cabin fever" or maybe it's tank fever, eh?
I have many memories of being in nature...camping with my wife...and my children... hiking... backpacking alone off trail...standing atop Mt. Adams...climbing to Camp Muir with my son on Mt. Rainier at 10,000 feet. These recollections are a little like fog...when I reach for them, they dissolve. Will I ever again touch a tree? I can see Mt. Rainier (on the days when she's not being bashful!) from my "slit-window". Realizing that truth makes me grateful. I could be in an upper bunk without a window. I must agree with Zig Ziglar...gratitude is the healthiest of all human emotions. Three more days remain on the 2014 calendar. What will they bring? Hoping they bring each of you a very Happy New Year as I continue to ponder... I received my first gift early this morning from the Universe. A stunningly gorgeous sunrise. The colors were vibrant and amazing...pale pink (had a powdery feel to it) to cotton-candy pink (yummy!) to a light hint of purple...then magenta...and finally a rust red. What a way to wake up!
Gift Number Two happened during linen exchange: clean sheets, uniform, socks and undies. The socks were BRAND NEW!! AND I think the undies were too. Usually it's obvious that many men have stepped into these articles of clothing...not today!! There is a Santa, Virginia! It's the little things in life that make me smile these days! My most precious gift is knowing I have family and friends rooting for me, caring for me...please KNOW how much I hope your holiday season was as awesome as my sunrise! I never imagined myself sitting in a jail cell on this day. I've planned several Christmas Eves over the years: Santa (moi!) delivering gifts to my children when they were young; working food bank , bringing dinner to homeless folks; sleeping under the lighted Christmas tree with Mrs. Claus - BUT NOT THIS!!
There is not one single outward sign or indication that it's Christmas time here in 'the tank"! I made an origami tree altho' the Charlie Brown Tree looked more like a Christmas tree than my origami. But the Grinch Guards took it away. :( I live in a world that isn't remotely normal anymore. But I know it won't always be like this. I do have a sense that i will survive. Inwardly, I feel the Spirit of Christmas tonite. I think some of the other tribe members in here do too. Today I received greeting cards from my children and my wife. Reading their notes lifted my spirits and put a smile on my face. Funny how a few words scribbled on the front (and back!) of a card can ignite the visceral feeling of LOVE. I'm alone in here...yet I'm not because I know people "out there" care about me. Wonder what Christmas Day will bring??? I've been pondering the purpose of incarceration, prison...and jail. I've come up with five reasons for such a system- there are probably more but here goes: Recompense/Restitution Some form of compensation should be afforded to victims when propery is stolen or damaged or the ability to earn a living is impaired. Something equivalent for the injury seems only fair...mandatory. Punishment - Puritanical Righteousness - Retribution - Suffering I wonder if we would have fewer crimes if compassion instead of punishment was offered while in the state called incarceration. I've been here a coupld of months and I have to say that I have not seen any guard extend any amount of compassion to any inmate. And, as you might expect, when a guard leaves "the tank", the inmates have nothing pleasant to say about him or her. The cycle of hatred - I know that's a strong word yet that is what I FEEL in here - the cycle of hatred continues when only punishment is applied. Protection Society is somewhat protected while an offender is confined...and then??? Rehabilitation If the 'system' would invest the time and money to teach the inmate a trade, s/he might not return. The recidivism rate MIGHT just lower. I'll bet it's high...I'll bet it's over 60%! There's an old parable about giving a hungry man dinner. The trouble is that he becomes dependent of someone else to provide him dinner; however, if he's taught a skill (to fish), he can take care of himself and his family. The 'system' feeds us three times each day. All we have to do is be awake! Rehabilitation might also protect society! If the inmate had a trade, they might be less likely to return to a life of crime. I cannot tell you the number of conversations I've overheard about the crimes my tribesmen will commit when they get out! They are convinced they wont' get caught the next time. And, at the end of the day, they just don't know any other way to make their way through this life. Education and job training would help...I'm certain of it. Time to Think Someone famous once say "the unexamined life is a life not lived" (something like that!). Well, being "locked up" with nothing to do 24/7 has given me plenty of time to examine my life. Given that I've done accounting work for 39 years, you'll understand why I call this review my 'life-audit'. I have more liabilities than assets. My balance sheet is out of balance. But this audit has alerted me to what has to be done to balance the books. I hope I have enough time. The subject of mercy...justice...jails and prisons is more complex than these five thoughts on the subject and when I re-read this blog, I feel it's a little naive...yet it's what is on my mind and how I feel tonite. I'm venting over the loss of my friend... and wishing you a wonder-filled 2015. ;)
The days will start to get longer now. I'm looking forward to more light. I spent Winter Solstice yesterday "in the dumps"! I guess it was a new moon which may have intensified the energy. But today started out happy enough and then...at 4PM, the rug was pulled out from under my feet! A new friend was suddenly transferred to another jail! He had no idea where or why. He's a sensitive man who loves words, prose and poetry...and man, does he love his family...and they love him. I was counting on more substantive conversations. He has read Rilke, Rumi and Tagore. He thinks. He openly emoted in "the tank" and was not ashamed of his tears. He once told me that letting others see him weep might let them see their own humanity. This haiku is for him...and for them: Fragile, sensitive Rabindranath the poet, Mankind can be saved. He was here for lunch and gone before dinner - POOF! Once again,, something "good" is taken from me. But what was I thinking. This is not summer camp, it's JAIL! It's punishment! I will be hard-pressed to attempt making another friend in here.
Today I got a chance to see the distance I've traveled in the past two months. A new species entered the tank. Let's give him the blog-name, Raby. A white male, early 40's who has never been in jail!! He's scared, sleeps a lot, cries (quietly), doesn't eat much, casts his eyes downward and looks confused...the deer-in-the-headlights kind of confusion....THARN!! (Google it!)
He was given Bunk 13, which is at the other end of "the tank" from me...that's the LOUD END. The bunk bed next to me (#11) was empty so I asked him if he wanted to move into that spot. "Yes"....a big YES was his immediate reply. As we talked, he seemed to mellow out a little. I remember when I was thrown a lifeline...I think I had been here about a week. I was asked if I wanted to move closer to a couple of tribesmen who'd been nice to me...one had offered me a book to read. After a week without pencil, paper and books, I felt blessed! Being able to simply chitchat with those men made a huge difference in the quality of my life. They gave me hope that I might survive this journey through Hell. "THROUGH" is the operative word here because initially I was convinced that I had entered the realm of the Devil himself and I was destined to suffer everlasting punishment. I still have days when I wonder if I will ever get out of here. But, for the most part, I know...I believe there is Life Beyond The Tank. For now, I have befriended Raby, hoping to share that belief and encourage it in him. Last thing Raby said to me as he tucked in to find sleep was "Thank you, you've saved my life." That is difficult for me to believe yet I remember feeling that way too when Rod offered me that book. A little kindness can make a difference in the life of a fellow human. Smile at a stranger today and say hello. Raby is expecting to leave the day after Christmas so I'll have maybe a week with him. His presence is a gift to me. Well, I'm gonna be here for another month or so...more boring time...HELP!!??? I've decided to reach out to ya'll...hoping you will keep my mind/brain going by sending me some reading material. We do have a library by means of which I have enjoyed Nora Roberts work!?@# Not bad...just not my usual fare! You can choose articles from the news (paper or mags or internet...I am not choosy!). You can send anything that I can read...perhaps your very own writing! I love to read...it takes me away from "the tank"!! Pretty please...with sugar on top...send anything!! I have lots of "spiritual books" and some classics so I am looking for "junk reads". I'll attach a list of mystery writers and such...in case you choose to send a book. The jail has rules...of course....and you cannot send more than six single pages in an envelope. As for books...here are the important rules (the ones I know): Any book
(Editor's note: The site is pretty self-explanatory. I gave them $5 and got 500 credits yet am still puzzled about how much each email "cost"!! Trust is the key to using any "correctional" website!! Remember this is one woman's opinion...and it's not worth much more than a latte!) When I first arrived in jail, I fought against being here. I focused on all that I was missing. Slowly...it felt very slowly... I settled in and finally began to think of it as a sabbatical...an opportunity. Two months ago, I was raging with anger! Today I read, write and sleep. I eat (access to the commissary helps on that subject) and I often meditate. I have no agenda, no schedule, no "shoulds". A lot of....mmmm....STUFF is getting digested during this uncharted timeout. I am learning to relax with groundlessness (another term I discovered with Pema Chodron). Am I successful all the time? Heavens NO!! But I am aware when the rug gets pulled out from under me. Sometimes I get curious and sometimes I panic...and somehow I continue. Hoping each of you find peace and joy this holiday season. Relax from time to time...take a couple of deep breaths if holiday panic sets in...walk around the block and remember... Have you seen Disney's Aladdin...
When Chaos comes calling, remember Chaos is master of the surprise, the unpredictable. Chaos can be regarded as extremely good news. It's Sunday and my friends are slowly being released or sent off to prison (as opposed to this jail where "the tank" is located!). There is only one left and I want to share him and a bit of his life with you ... so let's give him a "blog name"...let's call him Karl. I don't know why he is in jail, nor is that important to me. For the most part, he is a soft spoken man. Often, while there is helter-skelter vibes in "the tank", we will sit on his bunk or mine and quietly talk. Two men...sitting shoulder to shoulder, the way men do, chatting to pass the time. He shared with me that he "served in Iraq". This reminded me of a story I heard told by Joseph Campbell twenty plus years ago. Here's what I recall: In ancient times, a warrior returning from battle was not immediately allowed back into his tribe. He lived in a hut in solitude basically decompressing from the horror of war. His tribenen brought him food and conversation and news of the community. When he was ready, he would come home to a great celebration acknowledging the death of the soldier and the life of the man who was a son, a brother, a father and a friend. I told Karl this story. He was quiet for several minutes. Then he shared a story he had written when he first arrived in jail. He gave me permission to put his account in this blog. Here it is...word-for-word: ME I died in Iraq. The old me left for Iraq and never came home. The man my wife married never came home. The father of my four children never came home. If I didn't die, I don't know what to call it. I liked the old me, the one who played guitar and laughed at dumb movies and loved to read for days on end. That me died...from a thousand blasts. Died covered in children's blood. Died staring down my rifle barrel, a helpless woman in the crosshairs and my finger on the trigger. That me is gone. The new me is frantic and can't sit still. The new me didn't laugh for a year. The new me cries while reading bedtime stories to my children. The new me plans to die tomorrow. The new me is on fast forward. The new me is crazy. The new me has a blown-up-swiss-cheese brain and doesn't remember all of the old me but he remembers enough. Enough to be ashamed. Enough to miss the old me. Enough to resent the old me...resent the way everyone mourns him while I am standing right in front of them. When you go to war and die, and come home crazy and with a ragged brain, you get to watch your family carry on without you. Everyone longs for the old me. No one particularly wants to be with the new me...especially me. I've read his mini-memoir three times, it does not get any easier. In fact, since I know Karl and I know what's coming, it's more difficult to re-read. I hope Karl can find a "hut" in which to let the soldier die and the man I like come out into the sunshine. In The Brothers Karamazov, there's a passage that highlights our inhumanity: People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that's a great injustice and an insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, that's all he can do. He would never think of slaughtering people, even if he were able to do it. I ask again...what is war good for?? Let's end this time with a hopeful thought. If there is any possibility for enlightenment, it's right now. Not at some future time. Now is the time.
- Pema Chodron Since one purpose of this blog is to record and therefore remind me, many years from now (I think!) of the depth and breadth of this abyss, today let's talk about my bedroom, bedding and bedclothes (think Martha Stewart!). My bed is about three feet in width by seven feet in length. It's a platform design made of concrete. My mattress is a pad about three inches thick. I've slept on this pad for several weeks, wearing soft spots that allow parts of my body to feel the firmness of the platform. I was issued two sheets and a synthetic "wool" blanket and one non-absorbent bath towel, approximately 20" x 32". Both the sheets and the bath towel are replaced with ostensibly clean ones about once every week to ten days. I'm still with the original blanket after 7-8 weeks so I don't know when I might get a clean one. I was told it's probably every 90 days. I've described our "uniforms" in a prior blog so there's no reason to go over that again. We get clean ones on Thursday....well, sometimes it's Thursday! Now and again the uniforms arrive on Monday. At the same time, we are issued five pair of underwear and five pair of socks...for a week! I try not to think of the other men who have worn said undies and socks! :( It seems time and schedules and "ownership" are not important in this "underworld". What do I wear to bed you might ask? My uniform of course. It's multipurpose! Yup, that's right...well, really it is wrong...yet I wear this "outfit" 24/7. I've seen only one triabe member strip to his briefs to sleep. He had a Greek god-like body and was clearly proud of it. For the rest of us, it's just too cold to go au naturale. I am looking forward to a "REAL" bed, clean sheets and a comforter tucked inside a duvet...fluffy pillows (no, they do NOT issue pillows, of which I always slept with TWO!) and a quiet night's sleep...ahhhhh...the thought of it!! FREEDOM TO SLEEP IN PEACE...with clean pj's! As you go to bed tonight, be aware of...be mindful of your bed, your bedding and sleeping attire...whatever they are...and perhaps be grateful?!? Some have asked for a description of "the tank". Below is a diagram of the bunks, bathroom and "day-room". When I first arrived here, I was given the "inmate handbook". There is information in this "handbook" about the privilege of using "the day-room" . I remember being excited to think I could get out of "the tank" every day to read, write, talk with others, etc. I think it was the end of my first day here that I became aware of the fact that I became aware that NO ONE LEFT THE TANK!! I was isolating back then but took the risk to ask my bunk mate where the day-room was located. He was a nice man, did not laugh at me or show my naïveté to the tribe members in "the tank". Instead, he smiled and pointed to the two game tables about six feet from my bunk. The "day-room" is embedded within "the tank"! :( Except for "visitations", my new world is "the tank"...24/7. AND, with thanks to our favorite architect, Leon, here's a visual for those of you who wanna' SEE my world! In "the tank", I have lots of time to think, read and write...and chat with my tribe members!! It's getting dark which means dinner is Coming Soon! There are no clocks so I estimate time by the lightness outside my "slit window".
Fathers and teacher, I ponder "What is Hell?" I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love. -Dostoevsky Tis the Season of Love...enjoy in joy! |
AuthorPatrick Michael Leonard Archives
August 2020
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