Last Friday, I took the morning off of work. I drove east about 30 minutes, and turned left on a lonely road. I read the signs that said “no stopping or picking up hitchhikers” and knew I was approaching the prison. I parked my car, went to the front gate waited for my guide. After following my guide through tower after tower and behind an endless wall of electrified fencing, I found myself standing in the general yard of a maximum security prison, meeting inmates and learning the "ropes" of basic prison function.
It was at this moment, I realized that while parts of my life are steady and predictable, I often let things happen that take me to places I couldn’t imagine being just a few weeks before. I like that about myself. However, at that particular moment, I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t too open when I said yes to this visit. Let me step back a bit, and tell you how I got there.
A coworker of mine participates in Christian outreach for a local prison. He suggested that I teach yoga there, and connected me with the woman that runs the sports program. I have been looking for a volunteer opportunity to teach yoga, so I agreed to check it out and watch a current yoga class. Its one of those things where you take steps to do something, and you don’t really think it’s going to manifest, or don’t think about what that actually means when it does.
I will take a couple of posts to tell this story, but I will share the ending right now: After observing an amazing yoga class with a brilliant instructor and several dedicated yogis (who happen to be inmates). We all sat in a circle together knee-to-knee, looked at eachother in the eye, and thanked each other for our time. The men talked about what yoga has meant to them, and what it means to them to have teachers coming in from outside the prison. I felt the pain of their lives, and the pain that their path has caused others. I felt the stress of confinement mixed with hope for a different future. They thanked me for spending time with them, which essentially amounted to me intruding on their yoga class and staring at them. It was a heavy morning. I went home and cried… fear, sadness, and wonder that yoga… volunteerism… any connection can bring light in such dark places.
After having a good cry. I went to work. I laughed with my friends, answered emails, and caught up with the gossip for the day. But I can’t stop thinking about these guys. I can’t stop thinking about the yoga instructor who has been their rock for five years. Moreover, I have been thinking about how we tend to forget suffering if it isn’t ours, especially if we think others deserve it.
Earlier last week, I attended an event where I was introduced to a Jewish term: Tikkun Olam. This literally means “repairing the world” It’s the idea that Jews bear the responsibility not only for their own welfare, but the welfare of society- the responsibility to repair the world. This resonates with me. I think this is missing in our culture at the moment… the stretch beyond ourselves, perhaps even into places that we wish to ignore. I’m still not completely sure that I can summon the courage to teach yoga there on a regular basis. I hope I can, because now I have seen what it can do, not only for the person practicing, but for the people in their lives as well. To me, this is a tiny step in repairing the world.
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