Previously I believed ‘There is no wealth but wealth’, ‘Greed is good’, etc. Ruskin’s quote crushes shallow materialism.
‘A man can surely do what he wills to do’ – Arthur Schopenhauer
To succeed, I have to think bigger than before. To think, to will, to implement my plans are the necessary steps.
‘Make haste slowly’ – Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus
On my life journey, I need to take breaks, restore energy and relax in order not to deviate too far from mental equilibrium.
‘Misspending a man’s time is a kind of self-homicide’ – George Saville
Realising how little I know and how much there is to learn, I shall devote a big portion of my life to pursuing knowledge.
‘He who hates vice hates mankind’ – Publius Clodius Thrasea Paetus
I’m learning to live with my vices and am determined not to become a slave to their cause.
‘We cannot learn without pain’ – Aristotle
There are no shortcuts in life without consequences. Input determines output. The discomfort of exertion is the price of postponed happiness.
‘We will either find a way or make one’ – Hannibal
My dreams will remain unrealised without action.
‘Knowledge alone effects emancipation’ – Shankara
Learning loosens the shackles of conditioning.
‘Rule your desires lest your desires rule you’ – Publilius Syrus
If I had heeded Publilius Syrus, I wouldn’t be in prison. Implementing this maxim may be the main ingredient in the recipe for my future health and happiness. This may be the most important quote I have presented here.
‘An excellent array of quotes,’ Dr Owen says, smiling broadly.
‘I had fun doing it,’ I say, enjoying our bond.
‘Ruskin is talking about being dedicated to having a healthy life. Last time we met we discussed how being dedicated to helping others is a good way to channel energy versus channelling energy into destructive egocentric goals. The third quote implies making rapid movement slowly. Take breaks. When driving down the road, take time to avoid wrong turns. You have a good interpretation of Saville’s quote. You show a dedication to effort. The quest for knowledge is good, but don’t forget experience and work have roles to play as well. Again, with Hannibal you show dedication to a way. It’s for you to decide whether it’s a way to Beverly Hills glitz or to understanding yourself and your life. Some say ascetics acquire wealth of character. Others, such as the Kashmiri yoga traditions around 700 AD, say you do not have to become ascetic to achieve enlightenment. You can be a householder with a job, family and responsibilities, and still be dedicated and achieve enlightenment. Folks do it in different ways. There is no one spiritual path. Now, I’ve got something to tell you.’ His face turns serious. I brace myself. ‘I’m being moved to Rincon Unit, so this will be our last session.’
‘Oh no!’ I yell, shocked, hurt, disappointed. ‘I thought this was too good to be true. We’re making real progress and now I have to start all over again with someone else.’
‘Yes. Dr Pedder will be taking over. She’s a little older than me and she’s had plenty of experience.’
‘I can’t believe this! I feel like I’m building a house and it keeps getting knocked down.’
‘But you’re learning to build a stronger house. You’re becoming more skilled with plaster, nails and floorboards.’
‘That’s not the point. Now I’ve got to build rapport all over again. You’ve influenced my life more than any other prison staff.’
‘How so?’ he asks, his gaze intensifying.
‘You’ve enabled me to build a mental framework to deal with my anxieties. I laugh things off because of what you’ve taught me. If I get stressed out, I think of your advice and breathe deeply. You’ve enabled me to bundle my studies, my yoga and your words of wisdom into a solid foundation to deal with whatever life throws my way. You’ve increased my understanding of myself immensely. It seems everything I’ve been working at has come together under your tutelage. I was afraid this would happen, that you would eventually leave.’
‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me before we part?’
I pause. ‘What’s the single most important piece of advice you can give me?’
‘You need to be willing to accept who you are. Don’t always want to be better, or new and improved. You contain a lot of good inside you. You’re doing a good job of sorting yourself out. You’re putting tremendous effort into it. Make haste slowly. Don’t let your abundant energy distract you. Don’t destroy yourself. Don’t rush down the path. You’ll do exceptionally well if you don’t get confused, if you realise what’s going on around you and how it could affect you. Be cognisant of the pluses and minuses – the consequences of your actions. Learn about yourself from yoga. Over the next year, focus on several poses, the alignment, the breathing, the micro-adjustments, the fluency of the poses themselves. A foundation will develop, not just muscle on bone, but a strong foundation from which you’ll know yourself better and be able to expand in all directions. From your physical practice, you’ll develop a mental foundation. Developing into quite a nice person is the goal.’
‘A final thing: what about the wolves?’
‘You have to decide where to channel that energy. If you channel it into your previous negative addictions, you’ll end up back in here. If you channel it into the positive ones you’ve cultivated, such as yoga and writing, you’ll thrive. I wish you the best of luck in life.’
‘Good luck to you, too,’ I say, shaking his hand, my eyes glazing over with appreciation. When I turn to leave, I fight back tears.
In my cell, I write up the session from notes I took. Devastated by the loss of Dr Owen, I pore over every session I documented, treasuring his words. Charged up with emotion, I hope to better absorb his advice. What he said about the wolves rings true. Towards every weekend, the wolves used to raise my excitement to the point where all I could think about was partying. But in prison, days are indistinguishable. The sun rises. I pee, eat, drink, shit, exercise, read and write. The sun falls. Even Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and birthdays are meaningless. How can the howl of the wolves entice me now that I’ve broken a lifetime of being conditioned to view the weekend as special? I’ve just got to be strong enough to prevent that scene from luring me back. It wasn’t just the drugs I was addicted to, it was the lifestyle. It dawns that the wolves – whom I viewed as my friends – were actually a manifestation of the strength of both addictions. Thanks to psychotherapy, the wolves are weak; I’ve grown strong, and Dr Owen has armed me against them.
63
Shaped like a brick, Iron Man is sitting next to me in the chow hall, talking about exercise, suffusing the area with adrenalin, endorphins and testosterone. Striving to be in shape in case I need to fight, I’m nervously wondering if he’ll allow me to work out with him.
‘How come you’re always so jacked up?’ I ask.
‘’Cause I just did twelve hundred push-ups and one-and-a-half hours of burpees.’
‘What’s a burpee?’
‘If you really wanna know, show up at the rec room when our doors open and I’ll give you a crash course. By the time you walk out – if you can still stand – you won’t have any doubts in your mind what burpees are.’
‘I’m looking to increase definition and put on some muscle mass,’ I say.
‘Look, I know how to do it. If you learn my routines and put 100 per cent fucking effort into them, I’ll have you in the best fucking shape of your life – guaranteed.’
‘I heard you have knowledge of martial arts,’ I say quietly, as martial arts are banned.
‘Yeah, I’ve had some training.’
‘Which types?’
‘Look,’ Iron Man says, his neck, shoulder and jaw muscles rippling, ‘this is the deal. I don’t like talking about this shit ’cause it tips my hand. When people know what skills you have, it’s possible for th
em to come up with a defence against them. But if you’re gonna be working out with me, I’ll tell you what’s up.’
‘I’m definitely going to work out with you.’
‘OK, then. All through high school, I trained in judo and karate, and then I did years of kung fu. My kung fu master was a class-four special-forces bad-ass whose job in Nam was to go out the night before the Marines and kill every sentry within a mile-wide area using only silent killing techniques: garrottes and edged weapons. He was a fourth-degree black belt in a style that was a combination of the tiger, horse and mantis.’
‘Can you show me some of that?’ I ask.
‘We’ll see,’ Iron Man says.
‘Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been down?’
‘Nine years. My first time I did four, now I’m doing eight flat for collecting a drug debt. I smashed someone’s door down. I didn’t hurt anyone. I just wanted my fucking money.’
The next day, groggy from waking up, I trudge to the rec room. ‘I can’t believe we’re working out at six in the morning.’
‘It’s the coolest time of the day and your stomach’s empty,’ Iron Man says, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. ‘Anyway, this isn’t social hour. Let’s do 50 jumping jacks to get the blood flowing.’
With the rising sun heating the building up and no ventilation in the room, I’m soon wide awake and shedding drops of sweat. I remove my soggy T-shirt. Iron Man fetches a fan.
‘On to burpees,’ he says. ‘Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart. Jump your legs out behind you while dropping into a press-up position without planting your face into the concrete! Do five push-ups and then in one swift motion draw both legs forward, planting your feet in the original shoulder-width position, and stand up.’
Back on my feet, I gaze at Iron Man, wondering if I did it right.
‘Congratulations, you have just done one burpee. Run in place between repetitions. While I do my burpee, you run in place and vice versa.’
Thirty minutes in, I’m fighting the urge to quit. What the hell have I got myself into? Every muscle is in shock. After an hour, I’m out of breath, seeing stars, and barely able to stand. I finish, satisfied with myself for persevering, but almost fall down the stairs. ‘Thanks, Iron Man. You destroyed me.’ We laugh. ‘When can we do this again?’
‘Tomorrow. If you’re committed, I’ll introduce you to more routines. We’ll do pull-ups, free-squats, push-ups, lunges, dips, inverted shoulder presses and a wide variety of other exercises for triceps, biceps and every other body part.’
‘Why are there no weights we can use?’ I ask.
‘During a major riot they were used to smash skulls in. Prisoners and guards ended up dead, so they were taken from all of Arizona’s prisons.’
The next day, I exercise on the yard for 90 minutes, with muscle soreness, dozens of prisoners watching and Iron Man yelling, ‘Embrace the pain!’ My heart beats so fast for the rest of the day, I have difficulty falling asleep. As the weeks pass, however, my soreness and resistance towards Iron Man’s regime fade. I crave the workouts, which release, along with yoga, the tension accumulated from lying on my bunk for most of the day reading at an accelerated rate in order to hit my 1,000-book target. My appetite soars. I purchase cheese stolen from the kitchen, which I store in the swamp-cooler vent to keep it from melting and away from the guards. Iron Man plies me with powdered-milk drinks. The only things that halt exercise are either the occasional pulled muscle or the prison being locked-down, which happens a few times due to fights and the extraction of corpses, usually from illness, suicide or murder. In torrential rain, we run outside, watched by astounded inmates pressed against cell-door windows. Iron Man implements a week of ‘Torture Olympics’ – various timed strength-and-fitness events – during which I manage two hundred push-ups in five minutes. We jog laps and sprint, monitored by guards, who keep advising us over the speaker system to drink water and not to stay out too long. Pull-ups become my favourite exercise: I delight in cranking myself up on a bar, feeling the heat penetrate my skull, even though I’m wearing a baseball cap and shades, tasting the salt in the sweat running over my eyeballs and down my face. A few prisoners compliment me on ‘getting cut’. One says, ‘You’re not getting big, but you’re looking sexy.’ That I appreciate his remark tells me I’ve been in prison for too long. I happily remind myself that I’ve only got six months left. Working out on the rec field with Iron Man, away from the noise and hassle of the yard, admiring the view of the mountains where I used to live, discussing self-help and psychology books we’ve read, I occasionally forget where I am.
My spirits are raised by a letter from Jade, offering to come to the next food visit.
I respond:
I just finished reading Falling in Love for All of the Right Reasons by Dr Neil Clark Warren. The book advocates marriage and cites 29 areas couples need to score highly in if they are to sustain a relationship in the long run. We scored so high it was frightening. It was also sad because you’ve made it clear that due to my past you’d never have such a relationship with me. More than anyone I’ve dated, you have the characteristics I believe would sustain a long-term relationship.
The homies have been asking me if you are coming to the food visit. I told them you’d run off with an Australian, as you’d grown tired of the British accent. You should have seen their disappointment. You have quite a following in here! Also, now that I work out with Iron Man, my appetite is like that of a wild beast.
Iron Man asks me to teach him yoga. In the rec room, I warm him up with sun salutations and administer a strenuous routine catered to his personality out of fear he’ll lose interest if insufficiently challenged, including lots of warrior poses – holding lunges for up to two minutes, with arms outstretched – inversions (such as headstand, handstand and scorpion – similar to a handstand but with the forearms on the floor and the legs curled towards the head). I throw in some one-legged balance postures. We wind down with corpse on the floor. He enjoys it so much it becomes a regular thing. Other prisoners start taking notice and ask to participate. Before I know it, I’ve got my own little yoga class. To keep them motivated, I attach the relevance of yoga to prison – pointing out that one of the benefits of doing the splits is the flexibility it gives you to kick someone in the head – while I’m aware they’ll leave relaxed and less likely to pick a fight.
Reading in my cell, I spot guards clustering outside, and brace to be raided and ticketed if they find the cheese hidden in the vent.
‘Attwood, we have a question for you,’ one yells.
Wondering why they’ve not barged in yet, I jump up, heart rapid, and stand in the doorway. ‘What is it?’
‘If we can get a yoga class going, would you be willing to teach it?’
Relieved, delighted, I smile. ‘Absolutely. I’ve already been teaching yoga to some guys and more are asking to join.’
‘We’re gonna put in a proposal for a yoga class and there’d be a turnout for you to teach it in a room off Yard 1.’
‘Great! The rec room we’re using has no air-con.’
‘And you’re not supposed to be using that room anyway.’
‘Oh. OK. Some guards say it’s OK and some boot us out.’
‘Well, we’re gonna put this proposal in ’cause we feel yoga will do the guys some good.’
‘It’s a positive thing. I’d love to teach it. I just hope it gets approved.’
64
At the food visit, Jade’s wearing black, her hair in a ponytail, lips dark pink, nails silvery pink, toenails gold and mauve.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I say, my eyes pinned to the plastic boxes on the table.
‘I went to the Cuisine of India,’ she says, removing a lid from a container, setting free a curry scent that causes my nose to twitch and my mouth to salivate. ‘I’ve brought chana masala, aloo gobi, garlic naan and rice pilau.’
‘Perfect! Please help yourself before I devour it. I skipped breakfast. I’m hungry enou
gh to gnaw on your arm right now.’
‘I thought you were a vegetarian! You can save that kind of behaviour for when you get out.’
I laugh. ‘With you?’ I ask, smiling.
‘We’ll see,’ she says, raising her brows.
‘Grrrr.’
The food disappears fast. Bloated, I sink into my seat, rub my belly and take deep breaths. The world seems to slow down. ‘I ate so much, I feel as if I’m going to die.’
‘I’m behind on reading your blog,’ she says.
‘I know She-Ra’s your favourite.’
‘Have you given in yet?’ she asks, narrowing her eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
Jade tilts forward, eyes wide.
As I lean, my eyes drift to her lips.
‘You know … with the transsexuals,’ she whispers.
‘No!’ I say, pulling away.
‘Mm-hm,’ she says, eyes sparkling with accusation.
‘And I never will! I’m almost out of here!’
‘My friend said, “I bet you he has.”’
I gape.
‘She read about you in the Phoenix New Times. She said you’re sexually deviant and too adventurous.’
‘Huh!’ I say, blushing.
‘And I think you are, too.’
‘Are what: sexually deviant and adventurous, or going with transsexuals?’
‘Sexually deviant and adventurous.’
‘I thought you were on my side.’
‘Yes, but I still have to ask.’
‘Indeed,’ I say, nodding. ‘Frankie said that after five years I’d be so frustrated I’d start getting oral from transsexuals, but, I’m sorry to report, my dear, it hasn’t happened.’
Prison Time Page 27
