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In a conversation in someone else's LJ, someone asked me about my experiences teaching meditation in prison. Not wanting to hijack the OP's journal, I'm posting my answer here, but cutting because I know reading about things like this doesn't interest everyone.
I should clarify that I teach meditation in a specifically Buddhist context--not because I believe it's the One True Way, but because it's the way I'm really familiar with (same reason I speak English). I work with two groups--one at a local state medium/maximum security prison, where I go each week; the other at a federal institution about 100 miles from me, where I go once a month, or so.
The group at the state institution has been meeting for about 6 years. It averages around 5 or 6 people, but has been as big as 12 and as small as 4--many of them are there for life, usually for murder, but some for things like burglary, etc. Only two guys have been with the group the whole time--the membership fluctuates, and it had another leader for the first four years. I've been doing it for two, and between us they met without a leader sometimes. We have to deal with a lot of passive resistance from the chaplain and bureaucracy from the whole setup,but basically we're ok to meditate, discuss, watch DVDs and do readings. Prison is noisy! It's amazing, but you quickly learn that what matters is the noise inside, not outside, and you really aren't disturbed by the loud voices in the halls and outside, and the constant loudspeaker announcements. And we've all learned that sometimes I'll get out there and then they'll have a lockdown, meaning the men go back to their rooms and I go home.
I think the men who come to it seriously are very serious. One has taken refuge (the Buddhist ceremony of commitment, sort of like Christian confirmation or maybe baptism) and another plans to. They meditate in their rooms if they can find a time when the roommate is sleeping or working, etc. and we meditate as a group weekly. They find that meditation helps them deal with the loneliness and despair of prison. One of the men who's been coming a long time uses breathing and mindfulness to help him control his anger, seeing that as the quality that led to his present situation. The other also deals with anger, but said recently that his biggest problem was cynicism about other people, and that he's trying to learn to see whatever good may be in a person, no matter what their flaws may be.
Before I got to know people in prison, I thought that a person who could commit a violent crime must be a thoroughly horrible human being. I've been surprised to see that these inmates are capable of remorse, compassion, and a real motivation to understand and help themselves and other people. One other man who had been there since the beginning died of AIDS last year, and I could see that the other inmates really felt strongly and tried to help him. One man who came into the prison a hate-filled racist has become a "jailhouse lawyer" who helps less literate inmates appeal their cases and prepare for parole hearings, regardless of their race. I've been amazed to see how philosophically he accepts his own denial of parole each year, in spite of his obvious rehabilitation. I think he has truly come to accept responsibility for his actions and to live with their consequences.
I think that the charisma and energy of one member of the group really keeps this going, but once people come and get a taste for the meditation, they stay for their own reasons.
At the federal institution, there isn't a charismatic leader, keeping people enthusiastic about going, and also I'm not there very often. Consequently that group has shrunk to where it's only about 3 or 4 people, mostly regulars, but occasional curious drop-ins who also practice Wicca (which also does meditation), Christianity, Hinduism, and occasionally Rasta. The men there are in for shorter times for less serious offenses, and the institution is much easier for them to live in. I'm not sure it means as much to them as it does to the ones who are struggling for psychic survival in the state prison.
I could write volumes. It's been a moving, fascinating experience. A friend teaches yoga in a women's prison, and that's a whole different story!
I should clarify that I teach meditation in a specifically Buddhist context--not because I believe it's the One True Way, but because it's the way I'm really familiar with (same reason I speak English). I work with two groups--one at a local state medium/maximum security prison, where I go each week; the other at a federal institution about 100 miles from me, where I go once a month, or so.
The group at the state institution has been meeting for about 6 years. It averages around 5 or 6 people, but has been as big as 12 and as small as 4--many of them are there for life, usually for murder, but some for things like burglary, etc. Only two guys have been with the group the whole time--the membership fluctuates, and it had another leader for the first four years. I've been doing it for two, and between us they met without a leader sometimes. We have to deal with a lot of passive resistance from the chaplain and bureaucracy from the whole setup,but basically we're ok to meditate, discuss, watch DVDs and do readings. Prison is noisy! It's amazing, but you quickly learn that what matters is the noise inside, not outside, and you really aren't disturbed by the loud voices in the halls and outside, and the constant loudspeaker announcements. And we've all learned that sometimes I'll get out there and then they'll have a lockdown, meaning the men go back to their rooms and I go home.
I think the men who come to it seriously are very serious. One has taken refuge (the Buddhist ceremony of commitment, sort of like Christian confirmation or maybe baptism) and another plans to. They meditate in their rooms if they can find a time when the roommate is sleeping or working, etc. and we meditate as a group weekly. They find that meditation helps them deal with the loneliness and despair of prison. One of the men who's been coming a long time uses breathing and mindfulness to help him control his anger, seeing that as the quality that led to his present situation. The other also deals with anger, but said recently that his biggest problem was cynicism about other people, and that he's trying to learn to see whatever good may be in a person, no matter what their flaws may be.
Before I got to know people in prison, I thought that a person who could commit a violent crime must be a thoroughly horrible human being. I've been surprised to see that these inmates are capable of remorse, compassion, and a real motivation to understand and help themselves and other people. One other man who had been there since the beginning died of AIDS last year, and I could see that the other inmates really felt strongly and tried to help him. One man who came into the prison a hate-filled racist has become a "jailhouse lawyer" who helps less literate inmates appeal their cases and prepare for parole hearings, regardless of their race. I've been amazed to see how philosophically he accepts his own denial of parole each year, in spite of his obvious rehabilitation. I think he has truly come to accept responsibility for his actions and to live with their consequences.
I think that the charisma and energy of one member of the group really keeps this going, but once people come and get a taste for the meditation, they stay for their own reasons.
At the federal institution, there isn't a charismatic leader, keeping people enthusiastic about going, and also I'm not there very often. Consequently that group has shrunk to where it's only about 3 or 4 people, mostly regulars, but occasional curious drop-ins who also practice Wicca (which also does meditation), Christianity, Hinduism, and occasionally Rasta. The men there are in for shorter times for less serious offenses, and the institution is much easier for them to live in. I'm not sure it means as much to them as it does to the ones who are struggling for psychic survival in the state prison.
I could write volumes. It's been a moving, fascinating experience. A friend teaches yoga in a women's prison, and that's a whole different story!