Sometimes my work takes me into correctional spaces. Last week I worked at Folsom Prison. I'm still digesting the eye-opening experiences, which will inform my mindfulness offerings at my local Juvenile Treatment Center.
Upon return, I gave myself a full day to rest, eat well, and hold it all. More than 24 hours will be needed for integration, but this is my start. I keep returning to three things. First, an alarming 35% of correctional staff at Folsom Prison self-report suffering from PTSD. The average street cop reports 10-15% so this 35% is huge. Repeated exposure to known individuals in desperate situations and the worker’s responsibility for these individuals seem to increase the likelihood of trauma. It’s not a random, once-and-done person who is suffering or being a cause of suffering, it’s a person who is seen daily, hourly, and minute by minute. Another factor is the exposure to serious events that are witnessed inside a prison: riots, suicides, attacks on inmates and officers, psychotic episodes, and tremendous levels of despair.
Secondly, California is serving as a model for prison reform, adopting prison protocols in Norway. The Norway Model seems like steps in the right direction. It encourages tight security in immediate proximity, a strong focus on building rapport and care of inmates in one’s charge, growing a community of respect, dignity, and ethical values, and self-reflection resulting in constant measurement of effective action. There are probably many more points, but these are what I gathered through my involvement with staff training. I found the transformative move towards rehabilitation and care very refreshing. There’s even a focus on allowing cats, iPads for calling friends and family, and other means of connection.
Thirdly, I remembered that recognizing our simple humanity will save us (my words). While being involved in these reform trainings, I had the unique opportunity to be a fly on the wall, literally a person at the front of the room, viewing the 40 or so participants. I saw their expressions, their eyes, and their body language mirror the tragedies analyzed in camera footage. The pain of the inmate and the subsequent pain of the correctional staff were very closely mirrored and demonstrated.
I ask myself now—What do I do with this knowledge? How do I practice with this experience? What is mine to do? Coming out of the Folsom Prison experience I know one thing—community is vital, connection is vital. With suffering of such tremendous magnitude, it’s impossible to go it alone. Going it alone will be our demise—PTSD numbers will climb, and suicide, substance abuse, and all coping strategies that keep us in isolation, will skyrocket. Community is one response, it’s one answer, I know it with absolute certainty.
Another practice I come back to is deep looking. On my drive home from Folsom each night, I passed Bridal Veil Falls. With recent rains, the waterfall flowed over the cliff face with enough magnitude to spray everything below. Each evening I stopped, stood in front of that powerful force of life, and soaked it into my whole being, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. At bedtime, as I closed my eyes, I returned—not to images of the day, but to that clear, ever-flowing source. A blessing arose as I slipped off to sleep, riding my in-breath and my out-breath,
“May the refreshing and healing qualities of life
sustain all beings everywhere.”
I’m reminded of my teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh’s words of wisdom, straight from the heart of embodied social action:
Upon return, I gave myself a full day to rest, eat well, and hold it all. More than 24 hours will be needed for integration, but this is my start. I keep returning to three things. First, an alarming 35% of correctional staff at Folsom Prison self-report suffering from PTSD. The average street cop reports 10-15% so this 35% is huge. Repeated exposure to known individuals in desperate situations and the worker’s responsibility for these individuals seem to increase the likelihood of trauma. It’s not a random, once-and-done person who is suffering or being a cause of suffering, it’s a person who is seen daily, hourly, and minute by minute. Another factor is the exposure to serious events that are witnessed inside a prison: riots, suicides, attacks on inmates and officers, psychotic episodes, and tremendous levels of despair.
Secondly, California is serving as a model for prison reform, adopting prison protocols in Norway. The Norway Model seems like steps in the right direction. It encourages tight security in immediate proximity, a strong focus on building rapport and care of inmates in one’s charge, growing a community of respect, dignity, and ethical values, and self-reflection resulting in constant measurement of effective action. There are probably many more points, but these are what I gathered through my involvement with staff training. I found the transformative move towards rehabilitation and care very refreshing. There’s even a focus on allowing cats, iPads for calling friends and family, and other means of connection.
Thirdly, I remembered that recognizing our simple humanity will save us (my words). While being involved in these reform trainings, I had the unique opportunity to be a fly on the wall, literally a person at the front of the room, viewing the 40 or so participants. I saw their expressions, their eyes, and their body language mirror the tragedies analyzed in camera footage. The pain of the inmate and the subsequent pain of the correctional staff were very closely mirrored and demonstrated.
I ask myself now—What do I do with this knowledge? How do I practice with this experience? What is mine to do? Coming out of the Folsom Prison experience I know one thing—community is vital, connection is vital. With suffering of such tremendous magnitude, it’s impossible to go it alone. Going it alone will be our demise—PTSD numbers will climb, and suicide, substance abuse, and all coping strategies that keep us in isolation, will skyrocket. Community is one response, it’s one answer, I know it with absolute certainty.
Another practice I come back to is deep looking. On my drive home from Folsom each night, I passed Bridal Veil Falls. With recent rains, the waterfall flowed over the cliff face with enough magnitude to spray everything below. Each evening I stopped, stood in front of that powerful force of life, and soaked it into my whole being, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. At bedtime, as I closed my eyes, I returned—not to images of the day, but to that clear, ever-flowing source. A blessing arose as I slipped off to sleep, riding my in-breath and my out-breath,
“May the refreshing and healing qualities of life
sustain all beings everywhere.”
I’m reminded of my teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh’s words of wisdom, straight from the heart of embodied social action:
Continue practicing until you see yourself in the most cruel and inhumane political leader, in the most devastatingly tortured prisoner, in the wealthiest man, and in the child starving, all skin and bones. Practice until you recognize your presence in everyone else on the bus, in the subway, in the concentration camp, working in the fields, in a leaf, in a caterpillar, in a dewdrop, in a ray of sunshine. Meditate until you see yourself in a speck of dust and in the most distant galaxy.
- Thich Nhat Hanh
May the refreshing and healing source of life that flows inside and around us nourish us, sustain us, comfort us and continually guide us in the right direction....
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