|
Community -> Articles ->
Living in Prison
Living in Prison
A friend of mine has a relative that is going to prison for a crime
committed decades ago. I don’t know the man, but I understand
that the crimes were committed in an attempt to make a statement
and affect change. Since then, the man has become a contributing
member of society; he is well respected, has a good job as well
as a wife and children. My friend even considers him one of his
favorite people. Yet regardless of his present life situation, he
is going to prison for events in his past.
When my friend told me of this, I was a little shocked. First of
all, I hadn’t to this point personally known anyone directly
or indirectly that had gone to or been in prison. It was completely
out of my realm of experience. But secondly, I got to thinking about
this man and his life and his family. He is going to prison for
years. He is going to have to leave his wife behind. His children
are young, and he is going to miss out on significant years in their
development. I imagine that his social standing will be affected,
his ability to work and to participate in his community. It seemed
so sad to think of all that he would be missing, especially since
he had seemed to leave his past behind him.
It was particularly poignant to me since I had just visited Alcatraz
for the first time a few weeks earlier. I stood in the 5’
by 10’ prison cell; I saw pictures of prisoners who were in
cells for 23 hours a day; I listened to stories of convicts who
were given a number and lost their identities, their responsibilities,
their freedom. They didn’t have windows in the cells. They
couldn’t see the beautiful water or the city lights all around
them; they couldn’t breathe the fresh air or hike around or
kick their feet in the water. They were prisoners. Every minute
of the day was dictated; every privilege had to be earned.
One of the convicts talked about how they could sometimes hear
voices or music from the marina if the wind was just right. Their
favorite time of year was New Year’s when they could hear
laughter and voices, music and celebration. I think I would have
hated that time of year when joy and happiness tempted me with its
closeness yet inaccessibility. Yet this was a joy for these prisoners,
a highlight of the year. It was like part of them had shut down
in order to survive. They were content with the faint memory of
the actual experience.
The other day, I was lying on my yoga mat. I felt my breath squeeze
and realized that I was in a prison. I had fallen into an old pattern
of thinking that was binding me up; it was an old habit of getting
down on myself for not meeting an expectation that I placed on myself
long ago. The expectation was not healthy for me. It had only caused
me frustration, tension, a sense of inferiority and timidity. I
have since recognized this pattern and have been trying to free
myself of it. But it is hard to leave what one knows well and I
still sometimes find myself in those same binding thoughts: in essence,
prison.
Now obviously, I don’t mean to compare my quality of life
with those sentenced to a penitentiary. But there are important
similarities between being in a mental prison and a physical prison,
and many of us don’t even realize the prisons we are in or
that we have the key to unlock them. We have bound ourselves up
in trying to please others, in trying to maintain our image, in
refusing to address our fears. We get wrapped up in our thoughts
and our efforts to find meaning and happiness and fulfillment outside
of ourselves; yet this constant reaching and searching takes us
farther and farther away from the source of relief. And as we get
farther and farther away from that source, the very thing we try
to appease grows and grows, binding us tighter and tighter. It is
as if we were all our own Island of Alcatraz. Millions of islands
walking about, surrounded by beauty and peace and breath; yet unable
to see it, unable to touch or embrace it because we are so bound
up in our fears and worries and thoughts. We slowly become deadened
to the world around us. It takes more and more to reach us and stimulate
us. The bridges of connection grow farther and farther apart, and
we find ourselves more and more lonely and isolated.
Yet the wonderful thing about this prison is that we have the key.
We have the ability to open the door anytime we choose. Of course,
we may not want to. The prison may be comfortable. It is safe; it
is a protection. But if there is a part of us that wants to shine,
to see, then it is only a matter of opening the door. The poet Rumi
says in his poem “A Community of Spirit”: Be empty of
worrying. / Think of who created thought! / Why do you stay in prison
/ When the door is so wide open? / Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
/ Live in silence.
Coming out of our individual prisons takes patience, persistence
and gentleness. One of the keys is our breath. It is a powerful
tool; when its stillness and steadiness waver, it is often a sign
that the mind has closed down. By calming and expanding the breath,
the mind follows suit. It is like a caged animal that goes round
and round inside the bars of thought: when the breath calms, the
racing slows and the door to clarity opens.
Another tool is to stay in touch with the body. By doing so, you
can observe moments of tension and holding. By continuing to open
the body in yoga practice, periods of restriction and contraction
become more and more obvious which are signs of mental binding.
By noticing the contraction and consciously releasing it with the
breath, you can begin to move outside the tangle of fear-thinking
and move through the open door to freedom.
Each moment we are choosing to stay in prison or to embrace life--to
see clearly, unfettered by our conditioning, perspectives or desires.
Every time we choose expansion instead of contraction, openness
instead of tension, we choose freedom over prison, love over fear.
Even from things thought long past, if we stay in the moment and
choose with awareness, we will have freedom no matter what circumstances
or state we are in. I think this is truly being free.
Heather Antonissen, November 2002
You can write to Heather at heather@yogaisyouth.com
Subscribe to
our regular email newsletter to receive notice of new article updates.
|
