Prison life is stress filled.
Prison life is constantly noisy. Every where there is the constant sound of slamming doors — loud enough to make the whole room shake — and the rattle of an ill-maintained ventilation systems, not to mention staff and inmates wandering in and out every few minutes, often talking loudly. This constant assault of noise gets on the nerves.
Prison life can be filled with arbitrary and petty mistreatment. Inmates on the way to my group may be asked by a prison officer where they are going, and when they report that they’re on the way to a workshop can be told, falsely, that it’s been cancelled. This kind of thing happens to inmates all the time, and creates a sense of frustration and distress.
Inmates have little or no privacy. Roommates may be noisy, talkative, or needy. This creates further pressures.
At the same time, inmates have an opportunity to pause and to look at their lives: to ask the questions, “How did I end up here?” and “Where did I go wrong?” and, perhaps most importantly, “How can I change?”
This brings some inmates to explore religion and spirituality, including spiritual paths that are new to them. Many become attracted to the idea of learning meditation techniques that can help them to cope with the stresses of prison life and to bring about positive character changes.
Some of us who follow our path of recovery are moved to go into prisons in order to make available the powerful tools for transformation that we have seen working in our own lives. We try, as best we can, to put compassion into action, and to work for the “welfare of the many.”
Teaching in prison has been one of the most rewarding things that we have ever done in our life. It’s brought us into contact with some extraordinary women and men, who show a degree of compassion, intelligence, patience, kindness, and good humour in the face of adversity that frequently puts us to shame but more often inspires us to practice more seriously ourselves.
It’s been an enlightening experience to discover that we are not defined by the worst thing he has done in our life. We may commit a crime and still have the potential to do great good.
We’ve known inmates who have, as a result of their meditation practice, move from being violent to gentle protectors of weaker prisoners. We’ve seen inmates develop an extraordinary amount of patience with exceedingly trying circumstances. We’ve seen seemingly inmates show a tender concern for others. In short, We’ve seen people who have committed some of the most serious crimes possible — people that some might describe as “animals” or “beyond hope” — becoming better people.
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