I write to prisoners every day. This has become one of the facts of my life. I started writing to prisoners out of sheer loneliness, but as their letters have started to come in, I find I am not lonely anymore. And the prisoners and I make a strange community. I am handicapped, and process the world differently from most guys, and I am solitary. I’ve used these truths in my life to be points of connection with these men, and they appreciate the fact that I am therefore relatable. But at the same time, they have become supports for me, and I can tell them anything, and I find in them a listening ear. Interestingly enough my spiritual teacher Sri Chinmoy said that daily writing is a way that we can perfect our spiritual lives, and I’ve definitely felt the truth in this statement through this daily practice of letter-writing. I do find comfort and resolution in this practice.
It’s funny, isn’t it, how letters are like talismans, objects of power? I keep all the letters in a big folder, but when I hold the folder or even an individual letter in my hand, I can feel the energy and power in those words. It’s like the people who write back send a fraction of their own existence with their letters, and I receive both what they write, and the essence of the writer. Letters are powerful. Emails and texts do not carry this kind of power. Sometimes I will choose to wait a day or two before opening a letter. It’s almost like disarming an explosive. I will put the letter on my shrine to my Guru, and wait a few hours, or a few days, until my Guru tells me it’s okay to read the letter. I need time for the power to diffuse.
I got a letter from someone I did not write to. I will call him “Paul”. He told me that his cell mate got a letter from me, but only wishes to correspond with women. So, he asked Paul if he would like to write to me instead. And Paul wrote me a lengthy handwritten letter in beautiful penmanship, and also sent to me a photograph of himself and his wife. He told me, and I cannot verify the truth of this, that this is the last photograph he has of himself as a young man. He wanted me to have it. And I thought that the idea of a life-long prisoner, sending me his last photograph of his youth, in the hopes that I might possibly write back to him, was indicative of a level of emotional deprivation that I cannot wrap my head around. I sat in my room and cried helplessly for hours.
When I regained my composure, I realized that I could not fully comply with Paul’s request. He asked me for my phone number, and also my email. He wanted to correspond with me mostly electronically. And I cannot do that. I have three ground rules for corresponding with prisoners: I do not send money, I am not looking for romance, and I only correspond through snail-mail letters. This is because I need the distance of time and space when I am writing to these people. Many of my correspondents are deeply troubled, angry and hurt. Snail mail gives me a moat around my inner castle, and it lets me receive visitors on my own discretion and time.
So, I have sent off three letters to Paul so far, and have not heard a response. I know it can be difficult for these guys to scrounge up money for stamps, and I do send money for stamps and stationery if prisoners simply cannot afford it. But that is the only condition under which I’ll throw a few dollars into their commissary. I can tell from Paul’s penmanship and word choice that he is a very intelligent man. To be honest, I feel in Paul’s letters a difficult, troubling energy. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I left his letter on my shrine for a week, and I just let Guru bathe Paul’s letter, and Paul, with his divinity and light. Most of the assistance and service that these people will get from me will be a direct function of my relationship with my Guru.
What strikes me about all the letters I’ve received is just how grateful these men are that I took the time to write to them. I mean, in all of their profiles they mentioned how they want to correspond only with women. I’ve written forty letters so far. Almost all the prisoners I have written to have replied. Really! And who writes letters these days? And it’s such a nice feeling, inexpressibly nice, to get letters again.
I’ve also started writing letters to my friends and family. I think they are sometimes bemused when they get my letters. They must think I’m a Luddite. But actually my friends love getting letters from me, and they have also started responding. It’s really interesting. People used letters for millennia to share their inmost thoughts, and to discuss their problems, and to talk about different philosophies of life. Exchanging letters has been a staple of the intellectual life for millennia. We lost something when we stopped writing letters. Receiving letters from prisoners has brought this something back to me, so foreign and so strange, that I never realised how much I missed it.
If I can point to one way letters have helped me, then I would say “balance”. Writing letters has helped me find balance in my life, and to discover a progressive natural rhythm in my days. And in fact, structuring my day around writing letters means that I always have time, every day, for self-reflection. I can’t overstate how much this has helped me.
Also, as a substitute teacher, one way I can engage with a bored or restive classroom is to tell them about my prisoner-writing project. That grabs their attention immediately! I’ve had great discussions with students about justice and punishment, and how to weigh public safety with the ideal of rehabilitation. They are often shocked to hear that these men write me back. Of course, I advise them NOT to write to incarcerated people until they are fully adults and have a mature sense of the risks and benefits.
Shortly after I started my prisoner letter-writing project, I was cleaning and dusting my room, and I saw that all the pictures of my Guru were alive! They were moving! Guru’s eyes in all the pictures were beaming with joy! I mentioned this to one of my fellow substitutes, who is a spiritual seeker, and she said that serving God is an intense form of loving God, and this is why I see the pictures moving, smiling.
It’s been an interesting journey so far. And it has definitely impelled me to write many, many thousands of more words than I otherwise would have!
It doesn’t feel right to write letters to these people on my computer anymore, because even though I type out the letters, and print them, I don’t want computers to be involved at all. But my penmanship is terrible! So, I think my only option is to get a typewriter, and to learn how to type with as few embarrassing blunders as possible, with no hope of auto-correct. God help us all.
Very interesting as always. It reminded me of how I used to write letters until the advent of email.