I bring you good tidings.

I write this message with Christmas music in the background while the smell of turkey and lechón in the oven, and congrí fills the house.

This message goes out full of gratitude for all of you who take the time to read through these little missives. It is also my way of doing something, even if just a small gesture, to soften the harshness of confinement for my students at the prison.

These words will not reach them, but I feel that somehow keeping them in my heart and you doing the same, the burden of isolation is lessened.

The image on this note comes from “Cat’s Meow.”

She colored in the drawing I gave the class the week before Thanksgiving. It represents them, our class, and the freedom from bars and barbed wire that meditation offers.

In many ways, it is a prayer, an aspiration, and a practice.

As the year folds into the silent promise of tomorrow, let us hold in our hearts the understanding that being seen is not merely a gift we give to others but a bridge we build towards a more compassionate world.

Each of you, by taking the time to let these words echo in your consciousness, has contributed to a tapestry of recognition that covers the cold walls of neglect with the warmth of attention.

Together, we step beyond the act of reading and acknowledge the existence and the worth of those who society throws away.

This, in its own right, is a profound act of healing—a chorus of angels singing, "Good tidings."