As Long as I'm Alive, I Believe Any Day God Will Grant Me Freedom

One of my students at the prison mentioned the following:

"About my prison time, I have been sentenced to life without parole. As long as I'm alive, I believe any day God will grant me freedom."

This woman has served close to 30 years. She's not yet 60.

So many thoughts arise from this, particularly about the nature of life sentences without parole—without revisiting the person to assess their mental state and ability to reintegrate into society.

Her message forces me to ponder the nature of hope and how people maintain it in the face of an entire system that treats them more like numbers than individuals.

Hope has been a challenging concept for me in my work at the prison. Initially, I steered away from using the word, unsure of how to integrate it into that particular teaching context. When I get in my car on the way home, I often can't describe how I feel to myself or to others for at least a day. The prison is a vortex that sucks out life and hope.

But I've come to understand that even in the vortex, hope can thrive on the edges, mostly in the commitment to personal transformation, in the belief that change is possible even and often when it seems improbable.

I've learned this as my meditation classes at the prison fill up and have a waiting list. I learn this from many of my students who have been with me for several years now.

I've also learned this through the nonprofit I work with. This organization is committed to a kind of hope that is muscular, worked for, and earned.

Exchange for Change offers classes focused on writing and communication, in the belief that doing so helps lay the groundwork for a robust hope that invites those who practice into a community space dedicated to transformation. The work we do is an antidote to the rampant despair that permeates just about every inch of the prison system.

Our small collective effort nurtures a kind of hope that is more than just a wish for freedom. It's an assertion of humanity, a declaration that even in the face of life's harshest realities, the human spirit can soar and make meaning.

In the summer, I will teach another meditation class. I am always looking for individuals with varied backgrounds who would like to join me and the women. We meet through weekly anonymous letters, and for the space of 12 weeks, we sit and meditate and practice transforming despair.

If you're interested, please reach out to find out how it works.