Restringing

Together, we tear open the packages of new strings, gingerly remove the old strings, and replace them with new ones, all shiny and bright. The new strings don’t come with directions, and folks who buy violin strings are probably presumed to know what they are doing. Trial and error become reliable teachers, and our first experience in restringing a violin soon brings results.

He tightens each string, checking the tuning, a smile creeping over his face as he realizes his violin now has a clearer, brand new tone. Yes, he can do this. He can restring his violin, a new task is learned, and a big accomplishment is made.

The violin has been a good teacher these last few months, offering challenges, and stretching his fingers and his fascination with making music with a bow, strings, and a centuries old design. My friend, “Jim”, is finding his voice with this violin, a place to put his emotions, and his fears. He’s getting out of prison in eight months, and there’s a lot of fear in him now, about how to live, and how to be a man on the “outside”, for the first time in his young life. Six years is a long time behind bars, especially when you are twenty three.

His grandfather’s gift of the violin has brought him some genuine excitement, and a place for his emotions, his love for creating something beautiful. He is finding a voice for his soul to spread its wings and soar.

We work quietly, offering each other suggestions, each contributing a finger to hold a string, or add a bit of tension, only a word here and there to solve a problem of a reluctant tip of a wire string, or finding the correct direction to turn a tuning peg, the right groove for that particular string.

He retunes and retightens, again and again, as the new strings stretch, now becoming part of the violin, part of the whole of what he tenderly holds in his arms and under his chin, his bow finding its place, creating new notes, clean and bright.

We were supposed to work on our weekly task, reading comprehension and vocabulary for his college entrance tests. He kept failing the tests on the computer, and was getting frustrated. He’d seen me helping other young men here with their studies, and had finally screwed up his courage enough to ask me for some help.

In the past two months, we’d been faithful to our task, making progress, but today was different. As soon as I walked into the multi-purpose room for the prison camp, and its eclectic chaos of books, videos, craft supplies, a few beat up guitars, and “Jim”’s violin, he talked excitedly about everything but our work. He was a tea kettle getting ready to boil.

Our stringing task complete, I’m thinking we could get our studying done. But, the water’s still hot and “Jim” is ready to unload on something else. We move on to a new topic, and soon he is showing me photos of his family, and telling me their stories, and the stories of his young life, stories he’s never shared with me.

There’s the grandfather who sent him the violin, smiling, picking his guitar.

“He’s real proud of me, for working so hard on the violin,” he says. “I got to talk to him on the phone the other day, first time in a year.”

As he flips through the album, he lets me deeper into his life, sharing some more sad stories, some of his pain, his worries about people he loves, and who he really might be, inside.

And, finally, the last page of the album, the real reason he’s emotional today. He lets me inside of his heart, and shares a deep, sad story, so intense and personal that the details, the intimacy, aren’t to be shared with anyone else. Yet, he trusts me to listen, to hear his story, and why he is so sad, and on edge today.

I want to find a corner and cry my eyes out, the pain in “Jim”’s voice filling me with sorrow. But, I have to keep listening, No one else is.

It’s a matter of fact tale, just part of his young life, just what he has had to experience. I lean in, and listen hard, my few questions telling him I’m really listening, really paying attention to him, and his Divine Comedy, taking me deeper and colder than Dante’s version of the deepest part of Hell.

We’ve gone so far today, from mentor and prisoner, to tutor and student, to amateur violin restringer and tuner, to spiritual surgeons, working on a broken heart. My job now becomes the listener, the friend, the other human being in the room who gives a damn about this young man and his pain.

He tells his story, letting me hear his pain, and his deep love for what he had in his arms, and then lost, and how he has gained from all of that, and become a loving, good man, at peace with God, and content in his life. Oh, there is still some bitterness and some righteous anger, but instead of poisoning his soul, he uses all that to feed his soul, and nurture his gentle, peaceful spirit, and give himself guidance and purpose in his life.

There are angels in this room now, surrounding us, and filling this space with love and a sense of serenity and comfort. I think “Jim” senses them, too, and his shoulders drop, and he is, at last, becoming at peace with his story he has just shared. In the telling, he has found some acceptance, and compassion, some support in his journey. He is not alone, now, in that story, that part of his life that nearly pulled his heart out of his chest.

I grab him and hold him close, and he holds me tight, and sobs, at last. Together, we grieve, the soothing words we both need now not spoken, but filling the room, and healing his heart, resounding loudly in our souls. What I try to give to him now comes not from me, as much as it comes from the angels in our midst, the air heavy with the unconditional love of the universe.

Our time is up, now, and I have to go. We’ve worked on our vocabulary, the words that really matter today, and we’ve restrung a violin, giving both “Jim” and his violin a new, brighter voice. We’ve put in some new heart strings, too, giving me a chance to love this young man a little harder, a little deeper today, giving him some space to play his songs, and be loved.

—Neal Lemery
4/10/2014

The Power of Listening

“Concern for others is the best form of self interest.”

—Desmond Tutu

I talk a lot. I’m pretty opinionated, and I usually have something to say.

Yet, this week, I learned, once again, the magic of being quiet, of listening to others, and just being there, so that they could say what was on their mind. In doing that, I learned a lot, about them, and also about myself.

I had lunch with a man I’ve known for quite a while. I don’t think we were friends, but now we are. He needed some help in his life, some advice, some direction. He needed a bit of my time.

We talked, or rather, he talked, and I asked a few questions along the way. He had quite the story to tell, and needed some direction. Not many people had been listening to him lately, and life had gotten out of hand. He was living in chaos and things that needed attention weren’t getting his focus. He was overwhelmed.

The more I listened, the more I realized he really needed some medical care. That wasn’t on his pretty long list of the crises and dilemmas in his life, but, the more I heard him talk, the more I realized that the solutions were to be found in him getting some medical help.

Thanks to the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare), he’d just been accepted into the Oregon Health Plan. For the first time in about fifteen years, he had health insurance, and didn’t need to rely on the emergency room as his only source of health care.

Up until this year, he hadn’t been able to afford to go to the emergency room, and so, when his thumb got cut pretty deep, he sewed it up himself. He showed me his thumb, and the decent job he did. I winced at the thought of his pain, and his determination, to take care of himself, no matter what he suffered.

He wanted me to wave my magic legal wand and solve his legal problems. Yet, the real issues were rooted in his health. If he could become healthy, and address his medical issues, then he could manage and resolve the things he said were troubling him. Soon, he’ll need a lawyer, but today, he needed a doctor.

I drove him to the health clinic and made an appointment. A few days later, we met there, again, and we filled out the long questionnaire about his medical history, and a survey on depression. Bingo, he self scored a 100% on the depression survey. I admired his honesty in answering all the questions with an open heart. It’s tough for anyone to be brutally honest with themselves when it comes to your health, and that challenge is doubled or tripled when it comes to looking in the mirror and saying the word “depression”.

We met with two amazing, compassionate staff members of the clinic. In a few minutes, they were doing tests, asking more questions, and engaging my friend in a frank and respectful conversation about his health. He could see the entire picture, and the collision in his life of genetics, diet, exercise, addictions, and the stress of his life.

We talked about remedies, and new choices to be made. More tests were scheduled, and a follow up visit was set, to check on how he’s doing on his depression medication, and to begin work on some of his other long term problems. They offered him hope and professional competence. More importantly, they offered him respect.

It was a hard day for him, hard to show up for the appointment, hard to have a real conversation about the realities of his life, and hard for him to accept the help he’s needed. Everyone in the room was concerned about him, him as a person, as a human being. There wasn’t a word of judgment, a word of criticism of his choices and the way he’s chosen to self medicate.

At last, he could get the medical care he needed, and to gain the tools he needs to move on with his life, and regain his health.

Our country is having a big discussion about medical insurance and health care. A lot of folks grump about the costs of medical care, and the pros and cons of subsidized health insurance for people in poverty, and the working poor. I’m overwhelmed with all the statistics, plans, and arguments on all sides of the discussion.

All that quickly gets intellectually confusing, with lots of rhetoric and politics, and, I suspect, a lot of propaganda. There’s money to be made, and lots of self interest, and self serving posturing going on.

Yet, for all that talk, I sat with my friend, seeing him get first class health care, seeing him get the services he’s needed, and to be able to work on restoring his health. Soon, he’ll be able to work, he’ll be able to get out of bed and feel good about himself, and to be the kind of father he needs to be to his kids, and be an active, healthy member of the community. If there’s a price for that, I think we’d all think that would be a pretty good investment, especially if you could see the tears of relief and validation that flowed down his cheek, as we sat in that exam room, and he realized he’s on the road to getting well, and he had hope for his life.

The next day, I visited a young man in prison. He’s asked that I come visit him, to mentor him a bit, and have some conversation. I’ve admired his art work, and some of my other buddies out at the prison thought it would be a good idea if I came to see him.

I brought some coffee and doughnuts, not sure what he would like to enjoy, as we got to know each other.

“You could have brought anything,” he said. “I haven’t had a visit in a year and a half, so, …anything’s fine with me.”

He gets out next year, and is working hard on the work crew, earning a bit of money so he’ll be able to find a place to live, and get settled into adult life. After seven years, it will be a big change, and he’s ready to make a fresh start in life.

He had a lot to say, once I asked him a few questions. I shut my mouth, and gave him the space to talk. His family only came once a year to visit, and now that they’ve got some serious health problems, they haven’t been able to see him for a year and a half.

He sees his younger brother going down the wrong path, and wants to be there for him, to help him turn the corner, and live a decent life. My buddy knows the drug and alcohol road, and the road of anger and not having a healthy father as a role model in his life. He’s done his work behind those walls, and is walking on the straight and narrow path now. And, he’s not afraid to share his wisdom.

I heard him tell the sad tales of his life, the struggles of his mom, raising kids on not much money but a whole lot of love. I heard him speak about his anger about his stepdad, and the hunger he’s had for some good role models, and some direction in his life. I heard him speak about the fights he’s started, and how being a gang member addressed his hunger in his life, until he realized that punching someone out and being angry at the world wasn’t doing much for himself. He wasn’t being the person he wanted to be, and he needed to change.

He showed me the violin his grandfather sent, and he grinned as he told me how he’s learning to play it, and how it gives him a voice for all that he feels in his heart, about who he was and who he is now, and where he wants to go.

He wanted to hear a little bit about me, who I am, what my life is like. And, sometime soon, we’ll have that conversation. But, yesterday was his turn, his opportunity to speak his mind, and tell his story. He needed someone to just listen, to take the time for him, to let him be the focus of a conversation for once.

His story is a sad story, but also a story about courage, and determination, and the power of a person to reach down deep inside of themselves, and realize that they need to make a change. It was a story of reaching out, of finding some resources, of seeing hope when you are at the very bottom of your life, and of deciding to climb out of that hole, and to move on, to seek the destiny of your precious, wonderful life.

These two men, these two encounters this week, are teaching me a lot about courage, and determination. They are teaching me that there is hope in this country for men deciding to summon their courage from deep inside of themselves, to face what they need to face, and then to step out, to move on, and change their lives.

—Neal Lemery, March 9, 2014

Towards Becoming A Complete Person: Ubuntu

Towards Becoming A Complete Person

In the Xhosa culture of South Africa, there is a word, ubuntu. Roughly translated, it is the concept of “a person is a person through other persons”. That is, I am not who I am really meant to be in this life, unless I am in service to, and compassionate towards other persons. It is only through empathy, compassion, and service that I fulfill my mission in this life to God to be whole, to be complete. One’s life is not fulfilled and does not have complete and honest meaning unless one is of service to others, and is fully compassionate.

Desmond Tutu writes of this concept, this essence of culture and humanity, in his book, God is Not A Christian: Speaking Truth in Times of Crisis. (2011).

Much of Western thought is exemplified by Descartes’ maxim, “I think, therefore, I am.” Yet, Archbishop Tutu urges us to think outside of Western thought, and view our lives in terms of “I am because I belong.” We need other human beings to survive, and to find real meaning in our lives.

Each of us is different, and we each have gifts. Our gifts are not the gifts of our neighbors, and our neighbors’ gifts are not ours. In that, we have need for each other.

“Ubuntu speaks of spiritual attributes such as generosity, hospitality, compassion, caring, sharing. You could be affluent in material possession, but still be without ubuntu. This concept speaks of how people are more important than things, than profits, than material possessions. It speaks about the intrinsic worth of people not dependent on extraneous things such as status, race, creed, gender or achievement.” (Tutu, p 22)

In Xhosa culture, ubuntu is cherished and coveted more than anything else. This quality in people distinguishes people from other animals.

Western society has made enormous progress, because of our personal drive and initiative. Yet, there are substantial costs to this “progress”. People are lonely, and there is an obsession with achievement and success. Such a culture views failure as a personal, even moral, disaster. We tend to not forgive and to accept people who have “failed” in the eyes of society.

Such a culture does not give much value to forgiveness and compassion. We tend to not understand suffering, or to identify with people who are suffering, including ourselves. In that experience and view, we risk becoming less human, less fulfilled.

In other cultures, such as the Maori of New Zealand, and Aborigines in Australia, each person is highly valued, and each person has a a clear identity and role in their culture. Everyone has value, and everyone’s participation in society has a cherished value in that society. Everyone is worthy, and everyone has a story to tell.

Indeed, we are here so that we can tell our story, and the story of our people. In that story is the connection with others, with living our lives with and through other people. And, as we go about our lives, we are in service to and living for the benefit of others. Compassion and forgiveness, rehabilitation, and acceptance, are all strong and cherished values. In life, we are here to help others connect with God, with their people, and with the stories of our brothers and sisters, our neighbors, and with the world. We are interconnected, and in that interconnectedness, there is love and purpose.

Not that the Xhosa, the Maori, or the Aborigines have perfect, ideal cultures, and not that they are always happy and fulfilled. Like any people, they have their problems, and their stresses, as well as their struggles and deep questions. Yet, they have a strong sense of community and they deeply value every member. Everyone has a role to play, and a mission in their lives to serve others, to be a part of the greater whole.

Forgiveness is a challenging topic. Contemplating true forgiveness, for me, is often a struggle and a dilemma. I do not find easy answers and easy solutions to the hard questions and the difficult anxieties and challenges I have about many things.

Yet, if I approach my wrestling matches with a sense of Ubuntu, and passion towards finding forgiveness deep inside of my soul, then I can see that much of my struggles are eased, and that there is a way out of the wilderness, and that I am moving forward on my path to trying to live better, to live more honestly. The burdens I have are lifted a bit, and I can see a glimmer of the Light ahead in my journey.

Neal Lemery
2/9/2014

Struggling with Suicide and Grief and Everything Else

I don’t know what to say, or even think. A friend of mine has gone, at a time and place and manner of his own choosing. He left, not saying good bye, not asking for help with his pain, his choices. But, then again, maybe he did, and we did not listen, or did not respond to what he asked. At least, I did not hear him asking for a hand, or my ear, or even considering other choices. Or, maybe I did. And now, I do not know. I am, at the least, confused and lost, and stumbling around in my grief, my impotence.

Now, there is an emptiness, and a great unknowing. The “what ifs” keep multiplying, and I am left with wonder, with sadness, and guilt. “What if?” “What if?”

And, in the silence that follows my asking, there are no answers, only more questions.

Friends of mine, closer to him that I was, are left empty, unknowing, wandering in the wilderness of uncertainty, of deeper questions which have no answers today. My pain today is enough; I cannot imagine theirs.

I search for answers that are not there. I search for so much, for reasons, for explanations, for understandings, knowing that there is now only a cold wind blowing around my heart.

Raw craziness, that is what is running amuck in my life now. No answers, just more questions. Not much solace, yet knowing that my friend was, at least for a second, at peace with himself and what he was doing.
I was not on his road of life, and I did not know his journey. In his departing, there is even more uncertainty in my mind as to what I might have known, might have done, might have loved him deeper, had he shared his pain, his questions, his journey. But, he did not, and somehow I must accept that. Yet, in that, I find myself angry, and unknowing, and uncertain. I am confused, and enraged, yet what has been done was beyond what I could have done, and beyond what I am, and what I could have been to him.

Old pains, and other suicides, and those still unanswered questions come back now, again reminding me of old wounds, unresolved enigmas, old doubts and tears. I do not know. I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know. Old stuff, reopened, bleeding again, making new tears.

Part of me wants answers, but I know that answers won’t ever come. I move on, in life, yet I am left with wonderment, and enigma, and cold winds, ice in my heart that comes at unforeseen, strange times, dragging me back to old ghosts and old, unresolved times.

The poet writes of what I feel, and points me towards forgiveness. Yet, that word seems foreign to where I sit now, empty and alone, not knowing, not finding sanity in all of this. The poet’s wisdom circles about me, aflame, trying to warm my cold, lonely heart.

Perhaps, I should reach out, and accept that warmth, on this cold winter’s night.

Forgiveness
By Marion Waterston, January 31, 2005

I guess I’ll never know
All I want to know
Or understand
What can’t be understood
But I believe it’s time to forgive

Time to forgive you for leaving me
So abruptly and so painfully
And time to forgive myself
For talks we didn’t have
Laughs we didn’t share
Songs we didn’t sing
Foolishly I thought that time was on our side

Can it be that time now wishes to atone for this betrayal
For tears no longer flow like endless rivers
Anger seems a wasted emotion
And dreams those dreaded night-time visitors
Can come as friends

Once again I smile at the innocence of children
The unabashed warmth of lovers
The enthusiastic affection of dogs
And although I do not see you my precious love
You are with me

So I guess I’ll never know
All I want to know
Or understand
What can’t be understood
But here in this quiet moment
It’s time and I’m ready
To forgive.

Paying It Forward, Mike

I came, to say good bye, and to say thanks
for your friendship, for your goodness, your decency
in how you lived, in how you treated others
in need of your advice, your passion,
those in need of justice—
a fair shake, you called it.

Words were spoken in the church about you,
in front of a thousand of your closest friends,
yet you had already left, taking your trumpet,
your laugh, and your good heart,
leaving us to wonder who we could now turn to
when we needed a friend, when we needed wisdom,
and a bit of justice.

I drove back home, along the river road you took,
that last morning, on your way to log with your family,
on the home place, where you were always with God,
the place that restored you, made you who you are.

I remembered your good advice, your courage in doing what was right
even though politics and money said different—
I remembered the logger back at the church,
stifling a tear, as he turned to leave, heading back to the woods,
remembering what you did for him, remembering
the man you were, remembering
you treated him decently, honorably.

We spoke then, on that river road, my tears—
I felt you close, and you knew then
what you meant to me, what our
friendship really was.

An hour later, I stop for ice cream at the drive through,
the man ahead of me, a working man, his truck
filled with his tools, at the end of a long, sweaty day;
He pays it forward, telling the clerk he’s buying my ice cream,
just because its a good thing to do.

You, then, take my ice cream money, and hand it to the clerk
paying it forward, to the family in the car behind me,
making a difference, letting me know
you are still around.
—Neal Lemery 10/2013

A Sacred Calling

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The Mentor’s Checklist

A mentor needs a checklist, perhaps a job description, of the tasks you need to perform, and a bit of a roadmap for the experiences you will have. I do my mentoring work in a nearby prison for youth who have been convicted of sex crimes. They are often lonely, needy young men, who also have amazing resilience and fortitude.

This list is a good starting point on the art of mentoring, and learning about who you are, what you value in life, and how your experiences shaped your life.

Be a good role model. Ultimately, it is not what you say, but how you act.

First, do no harm. This is the corollary to the Golden Rule. You do this work to help others, and to nurture young souls. “If you aren’t part of the solution, you are part of the problem.”
Be on time. Be accountable and professional. Just showing up in your mentee’s life is enormous, and, often, a new experience for them. If you are going to be late, or need to reschedule, contact them promptly, and apologize. They have had a lifetime of people not showing up in their lives.
Be clean and presentable. Your visit is important to them, and by you taking care of yourself, and being prepared, you model healthy behavior and good social skills. One of my young men scrupulously examines my choice of shirts and is sensitive to my breath. You are a role model in this work, and you will be examined and tested.
Coffee and food are good ice breakers, and provide a social atmosphere. You are also teaching your mentee how to socialize, and chat over a cup or a snack. Giving the coffee and the food is also an act that models care and compassion. The prison I visit has a canteen, and the menu choices, ordering, paying, and being served our selection has offered countless lessons in real life living and accountability.
Don’t pry. If they have a story they want to share, or a bit of their history, they will let you know and they will tell you. A lot of people have asked them questions about this stuff, as part of their job, and you may come across as yet another social worker gleaning information and pumping them for details about stuff they probably don’t like talking about. If you create an atmosphere of trust, and genuine positive mutual regard, you will hear stories. Your challenge then becomes to be able to listen without overtly dropping your jaw when they share some astonishing anecdote of what they have survived.
Share some things about your life, your adolescence, your hobbies, a funny story you heard, some pleasant event that has occurred in your life. Be a teller of nice stories, stories that don’t expect a response, or talking about their own lives. But, in doing this, you are modeling social skills and developing trust. Once there is trust, you will hear their stories, and their dreams. You are growing men here, which is complicated business.
Confidentiality. Don’t gossip about your mentee, or their lives, and respect their privacy. They probably don’t have much privacy in their lives, and this time with you will develop into a time where they can truly be themselves, let their hair down and confide in you. Confidentiality and trust are intertwined. You are developing a healthy relationship, and you are modeling that. There is gossip in prison, too, so be professional at all times when you are visiting.
Don’t preach your own version of religion and spirituality. They’ve had a lot of that, and you aren’t there as a minister or proselyte. You will get questions about your spirituality, and I’ve tried to answer those inquiries with a lot of “I” statements, and a sense of continuing inquiry and journey. This area can be a rich source of good conversations.
Be open about your obligations as a mandatory reporter of abuse. Most mentors have a legal obligation to report child abuse and elder abuse. Let your mentee know of your obligations. I think it is a good idea to spend a few minutes early on about your legal duties, coupled with what you think mentoring is and what you are there for. Your mentee is curious about that, as well, and they also have ideas of what they expect from you. This is a continuing conversation. We have all grown from that conversation.
Be open to challenges and opportunities for real change. One of my mentees disclosed to me an incident of being a victim of sexual abuse. I reported this to staff, and the next day, I sat with my young man as he told his story to a supportive team of staff members. After four years of institutionalization, and countless treatment and counseling sessions, he was finally able to share this burden. My role was to be non-judgmental, supportive, and to facilitate counseling for him. He told me later he couldn’t have gone through that without me at his side. And, that report speeded up his emotional growth and his successful completion of sex offender treatment.
I suggest you also have a moral obligation to report suicidal ideations, depression, and other significant emotions, thinking, and plans you hear from your mentee. Make these reports openly, compassionately, and with a commitment to be emotionally supportive with your young mentee as professional staff deals with this information.
Be seen as a resource, and an advocate for your mentee’s best interests. Yes, sometimes, you need to be the messenger of a “not nice” incident or state of mind. So be it. There’s a bit of parenting in the job of mentor, and parents need to speak loving truth. I strive to be open and up front with what I am doing and what I value.
You will have a continuing dialogue with staff members and your mentee about your mentee’s life and their well being. Make this a fruitful time, and be supportive of the work that needs to be done.
Be mindful that some things that need to be done or said can only be done by a volunteer, someone who isn’t bound by a lot of rules and procedures. For example, staff can’t bring gifts for one youth. You can.
Be sensitive to their health and their emotional state. If they are tired, drained, or worried about something, let them know you care and that you are aware of their condition. Be supportive, and helpful. Normalize their worries, and show compassion.
Model good problem solving skills. Tell stories of how you have experienced difficult situations and crises. Explain how you worked through it, and talk about the resources you have had for such events. If I tell about a mistake I’ve made, that message becomes even more meaningful and productive. You are modeling your humanity, not your divinity.
Model respect. Be courteous, kind, and compassionate, not only to your mentee, but to the staff members and other people around you when you visit. Remember, it is not what you say, but how you act that is the most effective message you deliver.
Be upbeat. No matter what kind of day you’ve had, or what you are worried about, be positive, cheerful, and supportive. You do this to give them healthy energy, and to model healthy, positive living. You can use your own experience that day to be the basis for your message, and how you deal with it.
Invite your mentee to offer their suggestions on how you should handle a problem. Engage them in healthy decision making and empathic behavior. You are partners in this endeavor we call mentoring. Learn from each other. When they are teaching you, they also learn the lesson. You are creating an atmosphere of learning, and mutual positive regard.
Plan some fun activities. A birthday, a holiday, or some major event in the institution are opportunities to plan something positive, uplifting, and supportive. Then, show up for those events. Be on time, and behave appropriately. Such behavior is often a new event in their lives. Several of my young men had never, ever had a birthday party or presents. Throwing a simple birthday party for them turned into the highlight of their year and gladdened my heart beyond measure.
Mail them something regularly. A birthday card, a Christmas card, a postcard from some place you’ve visited, a copy of an interesting article you read in the paper, or a funny cartoon from the comics section, or an article about one of their favorite musicians, all of these things brighten their day. Sometimes, writing two sentences on a note card and sending it to them does immeasurably good work.
Find an appropriate book for them. Suggest some good reading. You might consider reading the book together at some of your meetings, which helps you assess their reading and comprehension skills, and makes your meetings meaningful and productive. I sometimes donate appropriate books to the institution, so that all the youth can benefit from some positive and useful materials (Scrabble dictionary, math tutoring educational materials, appropriate young adult novels, Native American cultural materials, etc.) We all have books on our shelves that are gathering dust, and a donation is not only good for your tax returns, but also good for your heart.
Be involved in their education and counseling work. Attend the periodic staffings on your mentee, and ask some questions. You will often notice things, or hear concerns that your mentee doesn’t express to staff. When appropriate, bring those up. One of my young men couldn’t see well and needed to have an eye exam. No one else noticed this, but I did, and he now wears glasses and can do much better in school. You also establish a dialogue with staff and you show them you can be a resource for them to use in helping your mentee.
Look for ways to bring more of the community into the institution. Last year, my wife and I arranged for a friend and his band partner to put on a concert in the institution. Everyone had a grand time, and the youth got to ask questions, and enjoy a professional rock and roll performance. Master gardeners and volunteers from the local Celebrate Recovery and AA organizations now come regularly, and others offer a variety of educational and cultural activities, as well as mentoring.
Respect their family time. Such time is often sporadic or even non-existent. Be flexible, and expect some emotional fall out, both before and after such events. You are part of the support system, and your mentee will naturally compare your relationship and your behavior on your visits, with their family experiences. Soft pedal the differences, and don’t sit in judgement about their family. Your mentee is well aware of the differences, and needs to not have to justify or explain what they see and what they feel. And, some day, you will hear what they think. This is a good space to practice your quiet cheerleading, unconditional personal regard skills. The day one of my guys graduated from high school, I stepped back, and didn’t spend much time with him. He knew I was there, and he needed to spend time with his family. He knew I supported him, and that was enough. I still got to see him graduate, and he had the space to navigate through family waters.
Practice self care. Take a break once in a while. Have a “safe place” you can process the stories you hear and the emotions you experience. You will hear some tough stories, and experiences that deeply touch your heart. On the way home, there is a “crying spot” for me. Sometimes, I stop there for a few minutes, and I often take some deep breaths, and cry, letting the sadness, the loneliness, and the “matter of fact” tone of one of my guy’s stories whirl around in my head, and find a place to go. Yes, I carry around those stories, but I also need to process them and deal with the sadness, and the tragedy of young lives. I have a big heart, and broad shoulders, but I also have my limits, and I need to respect my limits.
Surround yourself with supportive friends and activities, so that you are emotionally healthy and balanced, and can bring that goodness with you on your visits.
Tell your stories of your own growth and experiences to others, so that these young lives can be a part of your community.

Wisdom I Heard This Week

The Wisdom I Heard This Week

Eckhart Tolle

“May I suggest a deeper and somewhat unusual perspective on who you are?
You are not just a person, and you are not IN the Universe.
You ARE the Universe, which IN YOU is awakening, experiencing itself, becoming conscious. That consciousness is who you are in essence. We are all fleeting expressions of it. The Universe awakens THROUGH experiencing challenges and limitations. That means YOU awaken and deepen through your challenges, as does humanity as a whole. So welcome or at least accept all that life brings you. Change what can be changed, otherwise surrender to what IS. Feel the Presence within you as the background to every experience. Know that, as Jesus put it, ‘you are the light of the world.’ “
With love
Eckhart Tolle

Johnny Moses, Salish storyteller

You decide if you want to live, or if you want to die.

If you decide you want to live, you also need to decide how you will live.

Every day is a new start, a rebirth, a new beginning. You can’t go back. You have to move ahead.

Love yourself. Respect yourself. The power of loving yourself is transformative.

Every adult in the village can be a parent. When you are growing up, you need a lot of parents.

In the Salish language,
the words for singing and crying are the same
the words for death and change are the same

(Life is a process of change. Embrace that change and move on. Be reborn.)

In Salish culture, you are not a man until you can cry for your people. When boys learn to cry and share their emotions, then they become men.

Notes from the Dalai Lama’s Talk on Compassion

Portland, Oregon, May 11, 2013

“Compassion means genuine loving kindness, the wish for others to be happy. All the world’s religions — every one — message is compassion. We need the practice of tolerance. We need the practice of forgiveness.”

People of faith who aim to practice these values must be serious about it.

“In many cases, religious practice is simply lip service. Talk compassion, do something different. Sometimes religion teaches us hypocrisy.”

“We can see among non-believers some people really dedicated to serving other people. Be a compassionate person, not necessarily a religious believer.”

“Compassion is the key factor one one’s own well-being. We are social animals, but those dogs always barking often remain lonely.”

Compassion includes tolerance and acceptance. Anger is counter-balanced by tolerance and acceptance.

Serving others is a tradition of all religions. All religions have the same potential.

Be truly, sincerely committed. Everyone needs the practice of compassion, in order to be happy. Compassion is not only for religious people.

Compassion and affection are biological in nature. (For example, nurturing a baby.) As we grow older, greed and self-centeredness erode our compassion. These are the costs of growing up.

Religious tradition builds on the biological compassion, to encourage a lifetime of compassion. All faiths have a tradition of compassion.

Affection, action, and research are our karma in our lives. When change occurs, we need to research, re-evaluate, take action, and change. Action that is positive results in happiness.

A materialistic life is a cultural habit, and is living at a superficial level. It is animal thinking. So, go broader. Humans are able to reason. Use reason to extend compassion to all levels, all people. Change your thinking.

Materialism is not happiness.

The hygiene of emotion. Our emotional state is as important as our physical state. We need to educate ourselves and others about emotional health.

This is “secular ethics”. “Secular” means to respect all religions and the non-believer.

Religion promotes basic human values, but, often, religious practices and views corrupt this. The ruling class can corrupt this, and there is often bullying.

Institutions get corrupted. We need to recognize this, change, and oppose this. Religion isn’t necessarily religious institutions.

Sincerely gentle people live better, more peaceful, happier lives, and have more friends.

Affection, a sense of concern, brings trust, brings friendship.

Fear, hate, and anger eats at our immune system. Compassion increases our immune system.

People, if they are NOT the recipient of affection early on in their lives, are less satisfied, have a lesser sense of love, are more anxious, and less happy.

Be committed. Be unified with others who are also seeking more compassion in their lives.

(compiled by Neal Lemery) May 18, 2013

Purging Violence In My Life

I think it is time for a break.
I spent a day this weekend at an environmental summit, in the presence of the Dalai Lama, along with 10,000 other people, people who cared enough about their spiritual lives and humankind’s impact on the environment to spend a gorgeous spring day inside, listening and absorbing wisdom and spirituality not only from the spiritual leader of Tibet, but also other wise and thought-provoking leaders.
I came away invigorated, stimulated by the sheer simplicity of their wisdom, and their ideas to change how we live, and what we are here on this planet to accomplish.
A week earlier, I had gone to the movies with my wife, sitting through a showing of the latest superhero blockbuster, nearly two hours of loud explosions, terrorism, weapons gadgetry, and death. Oh, the good guys “won” in the end, and all was right with the world, and all the violence and death was just “fantasy”.
I’m not sure my mind could really tell the difference, and during the next few days, I felt disoriented, out of sorts, not in tune with who I strive to be, and how I want to live my life.
Now, the contrast from watching the movie and listening to an inspiring talk about compassion and one’s purpose in life, and how we can serve others, churns inside of me. The two experiences, a week apart, have left me feeling incongruent, conflicted, not easily reconciled.
I visit our local youth prison quite a bit, mentoring young men who are locked up for six or seven years, men who have worked on their addictions, their anger, their rage, and the abuse they’ve experienced, and inflicted on others, men who are trying to move on with their lives, trying to find some peace, and some purpose for their rejuvenated, rehabilitated lives.
Violence and rage hasn’t suited them very well, and they are paying the price. Our society has come up with the simplistic solution of locking them up in prison, with a mandatory prison term, and no incentive to earn time off for good behavior, for truly changing their lives. Such thinking does its share in contributing to anger and rage, and feeling separated, distanced from the community.
I suppose there is the argument that society is being protected, and they are being punished. Yet, there are a lot of costs that we are all paying, and will pay in the future, for such an approach to dealing with kids who’ve been neglected, abused, growing up without parents, in households ravaged by addiction and violence and indifference.
Does the possibility of seven years in prison really become a factor in the twisted insanity of drugs, neglect, abuse, and sexuality in a fourteen year old, whose brain has yet to achieve any rational degree of processing and controlling emotion? Somehow, deterrence doesn’t seem to be an effective argument for mandatory prison time for these man children, not in this highly sexualized and drug promoting culture.
A friend of mine often says, “what we permit, we promote.”
I often wonder what we could accomplish in their lives, if the $200 plus dollars a day taxpayers spend to keep each one of these young men in prison had been spent early on in their lives, so that we invested in their childhood, and offered hope, and opportunity, and emotional support, that they may not have ended up here, watching the calendar, a bit fearful of how they are going to cope with being out of prison, how they are going to manage their lives.
Not having a father in their lives is the norm with the young men I visit, and they feel physically abandoned, emotionally cut off, flawed. That hunger eats into them, into their souls.
During family visiting time on Mothers’ Day, only eight youth, out of the seventy five imprisoned there, were visited by their families. As I visited with two young men, hearing more about their lives, their hopes, and their dreams, and hopefully instilling a little emotional support and healthy values as we sipped coffee and played a game, I looked at the empty tables, thinking of families not being there for their sons.
And, that is a form of violence in our world, not being there, not being involved in the lives of young men.
Such violence is not that far removed from the senseless Boston Marathon bombings, or the gang-related shootings in New Orleans during their Mothers’ Day parade, shootings that injured nineteen people out for a day with their families, celebrating a bit of parenting, a bit of maternal love and nurturance.
There is a simple reason we have gangs in our country. They offer the feeling of family, the belonging that young men crave.
And that blockbuster “super hero” movie, it remains the most popular movie on Mothers’ Day weekend.
I can understand why all the ticket-holders for the super hero movie may not be as eager to spend their time listening to an elderly Tibetan monk share his thoughts about human compassion, and how we can change our intentions and our attitudes, and thereby change how we live, and how our community functions. After all, there aren’t any robotic fantasy gadgets and special effects, no exploding bombs and crashing planes, and bullet defying armor to keep up on the edge of our seats. There aren’t any computer animated soundtracks, and a plot where the good guy destroys the bad guys in a burst of light, and color, and noise, loud enough to shake my seat.
Instead, there is a calm, thoughtful voice, and a thoughtful soul-feeding discussion about who we really are, and what we can truly be capable of, if only we use our brains and our hearts.
I’m going to spend my time now a bit differently, more of thinking about compassion, more about living my real values, and a lot less time in the movie theatre, or keeping up with the latest headline news shows.

Neal Lemery, April 13, 2013

Notes on the Dalai Lama’s Talk on Compassion

Notes from the Dalai Lama’s talk on Compassion