You are stronger than you know. I only burden your ears with that cliché because when it gets hard, you must know, it is possible to get out of the pit. The difficulties you face will make the beginning of the story that you write for yourself. The time of letting others write your story in exchange for temporary comfort has ended.
— Mitchell Adair, Snake River Correctional Institution

Recently, we’ve spent time inside a couple of youth facilities, having been charged with delivering some of the content of the Letters to a Younger Self project. Last week, we visited a couple of groups in Tillamook and one at MacLaren. It’s a bit intimidating. Tracy likes to say she has no problem going into a maximum-security prison, but standing in front of a bunch of teenagers is scary. To be clear, the Oregon Youth Authority (OYA) houses youth up to age twenty-five, so there were quite a few over eighteen. The lifers and other men with long sentences in our groups (many of whom spent time at MacLaren) see themselves in these kids.

Earlier this week, we went back to the minimum side at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility, the women’s prison. I played a solo concert in the chow hall, and we used the time to gauge interest in starting the writing workshop again. We talked with them about what we had been doing with youth and where we have gone. We learned that some of the women also spent time in OYA facilities. Lifers or not, they also see the connection from where they were, to where they are now and have the same impulses to try to help in any way they can to steer the younger generations away from the inside of an adult prison.

The Letters to a Younger Self project has picked up steam and keeps showing us additional directions to go with it. Frankly, we didn’t have much of an idea of how it would go. We had hoped for, but didn’t expect the kind of responses we received from some of the youth. Yes, absolutely, we had some kids who showed their disinterest and may have even answered some of our questions or questions from our writers at OSP with all the smart ass-ery that you expect of a 16-year-old trying to rebel from authority. But we also had serious deep thinkers who are already on their own path towards turning things around for themselves. They wrote serious comments and questions back to our writers at OSP, connected deeply with some of the excerpts of the letters, and asked for additional guidance that we took back to all our writing groups to answer.

At OSP, the ground zero of the project, receiving questions from the youth turned their enthusiasm and sense of purpose to another level. This week’s workshop was filled with a brainstorming session into the “what’s next” for the project, including some delusions of grandeur anticipating a nationwide roll out. Big thinkers. Big hearts. There has always been purpose in the lives of the people we know in our prisons. We were surprised to learn early on how much help groups from the inside give to others outside the walls. We shouldn’t be surprised at this point that helping youth any way they can to avoid ever meeting them inside a prison would be so important. There was a lot of enthusiasm, determination, and caring inside that classroom for something outside of themselves.

In fact, the caring and concern is directed in all directions, unsurprisingly back towards Bridgeworks Oregon. It has happened more than once, and again this week, that one or more in our group expressed concern for our burnout (really specifically Tracy, they like her more) because they understand the massive undertaking this is, not just the letters project, but all the workshops, running this website, writing grants, etc. Honestly, it seems a bit strange to be cared for by people who we know have a much harder life day in and day out, but that’s just how they are.

Next week we will have a new theme, again based around input from our folks in the workshops. You’ll hear a song by one of our men at Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution in Pendleton that he wrote about parenting from prison. It starts us down our new theme of Near and Far. Luis sings about being too far from his kids. We really love some of the writing we are getting on the theme and think you will also.

By the way, the things that the 16-year-old wrote that were only meant to provoke us – we took those to our group at OSP (we don’t share names and keep all of it anonymous) along with all the other writings from the MacLaren session. That 16-year-old is going to be getting some writing back, words of encouragement and hope, from men who recognize their younger selves in his attitude. | DJW

Mitchell,

There is, no doubt, numerous questions you’re hoping will be answered in this letter from your future self. I will not, however, be answering them because you will generate anything to justify or glorify the degeneracy your current path is leading to. Instead, I am going to give you a couple of pieces of advice from wisdom enriched through the pain and suffering that your current mindset will induce.

A difficult to accept, but veritably important lesson to understand is this: Nobody is going to save you. Nobody and nothing is going to satisfy the void. Trust that counting on someone or something to make you happy will only drive you further into suffering. I’m aware the whole world appears to be crashing down around you and it has been for years. You are falling with nothing to fall onto; there is no bottom, just abyss. Ropes appearing to promise salvation from the hopeless pit of your life and mind metamorphose to snakes or snap when you grasp them. This only deepens the despair of that pit. Nobody is going to save you and thing that it is everyone’s job to help you to give you “a place to belong” is digging that pit deeper, darker, and colder. If you want to get out of the pit, you must get yourself out.

You are stronger than you know. I only burden your ears with that cliché because when it gets hard, you must know, it is possible to get out of the pit. The difficulties you face will make the beginning of the story that you write for yourself. The time of letting others write your story in exchange for temporary comfort has ended. Do not pity yourself or wallow. Do not let the pain and suffering supply you with excuses to remain stagnant. Drinking, drugs, adrenaline, romance, or devil-may-car attitude is not excused by the abuse you suffer. All it ever is/was and all it ever should be is stuff that happened to you. None of it makes you anything. It doesn’t make you weak, or dumb, or worthless, useless, or hopeless. Only you can make you. So please, find a counselor. Tell them what you are going through. Do the work to climb out of the pit and make the choice to fine true happiness that is sourced from the radiance inside you.

Sincerely,
Your true self

Listening forever from insects and life
stirring in the lack of light

Direction is what is sought with no
clear answers — just hints of what
may be possible.

A glimpse of the moon here and there
provides some sense of hope.
“Buddha” Visith Toby Phandanouvong, Space Between

I just turned the last page of The Jailhouse Lawyer by and Sophie Cull, a harrowing account of Duncan’s fight to free himself from Louisiana State Prison in Angola. An innocent man sentenced to life in prison at age 19, Duncan turned to the prison’s law library to do for himself what the New Orleans public defense system did not, carve a legal path to his release. There is a particular genius to the self taught as they move through the world honing their skills of observation, study, imitation, and finally mastery. During twenty-eight and a half years inside, Duncan learns the intricate puzzle of the law; he teaches others; he advocates for himself and provides legal counsel for his fellow prisoners. Secure in the knowledge of his innocence, Duncan moves with determination to find the key to his freedom. As I read, I found myself turning to the back dust jacket to reassure myself. Spoiler alert: Calvin lives and works as an exonerated man today.

The last few months we have been looking back with our writers to the time before they were incarcerated. They conjure a new space — one filled with the possibility of taking a different route, selecting different friends, making different choices. Stories exist in the space between ignorance and knowledge. If I knew how this would have turned out … The space between the right and wrong seems particularly murky at times. You only know what you know.

Ryan Poffenberger writes: Now, that you are of age to know between right and wrong. Your internal voice speaks to you through your spirit to make a conscious, righteous choice. As a young person, it’s your decision as to which life direction you decide to pursue.

Jimmy Kashi writes: After fifteen years into my forty-one sentence, I realized that I could have helped us reached all our goals if I never made the choice to drink, do drugs, and make poor decisions. I regret many of the choice that I’ve made as a young person, but I know that I can make better decisions moving forward.

Geoff Seymour writes: Sometimes things are gonna be really good, just go with them. Things always find a way to work themselves out even when they feel like they are not gonna. Listen to your dad when he says the path he took and the same his father took is not the right way to go. Trust him.

Walter Thomas writes: If I could talk to the younger me, I’d tell him to stay in school and everything that glitters ain’t gold. Those so-called friends you got won’t last.

Travis Asbill writes: A strange word when you can’t hold on to nothing precious because your hands are required to remain clenched — tight fisted.
It’s better to want for naught and go without than to thrust for life in the midst of drought.

Carolyn Stickley writes: If only I could go back in time, I would be a better person — or at least my own person. I wouldn’t get married before I was 30 and I would travel and explore with money I had earned summers in high school.

Phillip Luna writes: You are not the type of person that jumps off a rock into a body of water. When you enter the river, in fact, it is done by dipping in a toe, then testing an ankle, and then, perhaps experimenting with a knee. Each step requires its moment of acclimation, sometimes followed by a retreat and reassessment.

Hannah Brophy writes of another space between, the knowing and not knowing when she discovers a lump in her breast: My maternal grandmother had two radical mastectomies. I wasn’t married, and my imagination took a dark turn as I visualized lopping off one breast which would either qualify me for spinsterhood or becoming an Amazon warrior. For the only time in my life, I regretted not choosing archery for my PE requirements.

In the most laborious of Herculean efforts, Duncan builds a compelling case, making friends and advocates dedicated to work alongside him. And yes, this story and this man are exceptional! And at the same time, I find the stories in our writing workshops equally compelling. I admire our writers’ efforts to construct a life inside filled with meaning and purpose. In the letters to a younger self, there is an excavation that happens as our writers find something that they thought they lost. We readers are left with the bittersweet discovery. As Buddha gently reminds us, to glimpse of the moon (even through prison bars) brings hope. | TDS

Listening forever from insects and life
stirring in the lack of light

Direction is what is sought with no
clear answers — just hints of what
may be possible.

A glimpse of the moon here and there
provides some sense of hope. | VTP

If I could talk to the younger me, I’d tell him to stay in school and everything that glitters ain’t gold. Those so-called friends you got won’t last. Don’t smoke cigarettes. Wait to be intimate. When they say “I love you” they don’t always mean it. Please watch out for granny. She got what they call “the sugar.” Beware, she might go blind. Life is like a movie that you can’t rewind! Put down that gun, don’t pull the trigger, nor drink up your sorrows. Life will get better, just focus on tomorrow. Appreciate life and try not to complain. Always weed out the real from the fakes. Your mom loves you even though she’s never there when you need her. You have to contain your pride. Don’t take a bride. And always listen to that little voice inside — he can’t wait to shine. | WT

Confucius said: “Be dutiful at home, brotherly in public; be discreet and trustworthy, love all people and draw year to humanity. If you have extra energy as you do that, then study literature.” This is from The Essential Confucius translated by Thomas Cleary.

Today our world is broken, negative with so many wars and discord. To survive one might think about a kind of literature. I would keep a daily journal given my handwritten text and power and charm. The pages could be used to fill paper lifeboats of life surviving.

If only I could go back in time, I would be a better person — or at least my own person. I wouldn’t get married before I was 30 and I would travel and explore with money I had earned summers in high school. I would behave like a modern-day hobo moving from city to city working for room and board: waitress, catering, typist, farmer (to name a few temporary vocations.) Adopt a new word like “effing” and use it to say “no effing way.” I would not settle for the expected life and style. I emphasize the word “settle” and I would find my special personality. | CS

Dearest Young Jimmy,
I hope that this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I want to write and let you know that you come from good parents, Aihoto, Peter, Keski Miki, Junior, and Akiko — all of them are our family, even if we experienced our parents differently.

It was my hope that you would follow through on your boyhood goals of being a marine biologist and fulfilling the “American Dream” by the age of thirty.

I am sorry to say the choices I made at the age of twelve set me on a crash course to a life of drug addiction until I decided to get sober in prison at forty-three. The choices I made had many unintended consequences and hurt too many people. The worst consequences of my poor choices: I took someone’s life.

I live with the fact that I created difficult relationships with the people that I love most in the world. My mother struggles with the fact that I’m doing forty-one years in prison. My daughter, who was twenty-two months old when I came to prison needed to be adopted. Now, my family relationships are monitored by the Department of Corrections.

After fifteen years into my forty-one sentence, I realized that I could have helped us reached all our goals if I never made the choice to drink, do drugs, and make poor decisions. I regret many of the choice that I’ve made as a young person, but I know that I can make better decisions moving forward.

We have natural leadership abilities; we can command a room and hold attention. We are fair. Most of the people we’ll encounter will respect us, just as we respect them.

You will experience some difficult things in life. My advice is to vocalize how you feel and people will understand and respect you for it. Your passion for cooking will be the way you share love in the world. Our new goal is to become a small business owner of a food truck when we get out of prison.

We have worked to regain the relationship with our daughter Charlotte who loves us but can’t find the words or the way to have a conversation about what it is like to have father who committed a murder and left her to figure out life on her own. We continue to do what we can from prison and accept the relationship that we have.

I want you to know that everything that you are going to experience in life will make you who you are. Life is not going to be easy but it is filled with hope and wonder. You just have to make it through the difficult stuff to get to the positive parts of our life. In the end, we’ll be able to say that we made it the best that we could.

With all love and respect,
Jimmy K.

READ: LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER

listen

What would I tell my younger self? I’ve tried to figure out how to do this. But then it clicked: What would you tell Cameon. He is a spitting image of me. He is my son — through and through. So, I would say first, “I love you and everything is alright and gonna be alright.”

Sometimes things are gonna be really good, just go with them. Things always find a way to work themselves out even when they feel like they are not gonna. Listen to your Dad when he says the path he took and the same his father took is not the right way to go. Trust him. He’s trying to save you and everyone around you a lot of pain and heartache. It’s OK to get mad, but it’s not OK to hurt other, just cause you are hurting. I know it’s hard to trust and get close to anyone cause every time you do, they are gone. But it’s really important to find your voice and expression that is positive. Don’t let outside people or influences shape you or your outlook of yourself in a negative way. Know that you are special in a good way. And you can achieve anything you want to be. And you don’t have to follow the negative role models, you idolize, blaze your own way. Create your own destiny. Shape your own image. You will experience a few agonizing pains in your life. Don’t let them destroy you make something positive from them. But most importantly, I would end just know that I’m proud of you and I love you and you can count on this no matter what.

***

I was like ten and my brother just took his life. My mom was living in Townsend, Mountana., heading over to Helena to do some shopping and she looked at me and told me she wanted to talk to me about some “Big B Choices.” It excited me and I was like “Yea, Mom.” She asked me how I felt about moving to Florida with Steve and the boys. At first I was excited, I mean, what little boy doesn’t want to leave some hole in the wall tiny town and move to Florida? Almost halfway to Helena, it started to not sit right and I didn’t like it, cause I had already lost a sister, and a brother. I didn’t want to lose more. Up until then Mom and I were finally bonding again. I didn’t want to lose her but I didn’t know how to tell her so I shut down. We went to Sarasota and 2 ½ years later I was in juvenile prison until I was eighteen.

It’s important to find your voice and yourself expression that is positive. Don’t let outside people or influences shape you or your outlook in negative ways. Just know that you are special in a good way and you can achieve anything you want. You don’t have to follow the negative role models you idolize. Blaze your own way. Create and shape your own destiny and image. You will experience a few crippling, life shattering and agonizing pains in your life. Don’t let them destroy you. Make something positive from them. And when you have your kids, make something different than what you got in your life. Your kids are your arrows. Most importantly, Geoff, I love you and I am proud of you. | GS

Now, that you are of age to know between right and wrong. Your internal voice speaks to you through your spirit to make a conscious, righteous choice. As a young person, it’s your decision as to which life direction you decide to pursue.

In twelve short years, we have incorporated discipline and values and establish your daily routine. I pray these qualities continue to influence your creativity and imagination, and help mold your outgoing, vibrant personality — leaving you no limit to the calling that has been placed by God upon your life.

I want you to always remember to believe in yourself. A vision without action is merely a dream. Stand firm on honestly, hard work, and integrity. Follow your ambitions and exercise your talents and gifts through your passions. Anything you whole heartedly desire, you shall acquire!

Don’t lose courage when faced with trials of all sorts. These trials will try to taint and detour your mind, altering your initial judgement and understanding of how success in life cannot be measured by materialistic items or worldly financial possessions. Throughout life establish everlasting bonds and friendships. Allow your higher power to use you in any way possible to help create hope and a more optimistic, realistic goal-oriented community. Walk and talk humbly and represent unity.

Never forget: You set the pace on your journey in life and its far more rewarding to give, than it is to receive. For you to live up to your fullest potential and destiny is creating a true legacy. It’s your choice what direction you take in the fork in the road. Take heed! Please make sure you honestly consider and understand the depth of the positive or negative impact you will have on the next generation. (YOUR CHILDREN)

Understand that your lessons in life are your true blessings. Perception is the key to overcome and conquer your hardships, disappointments, and the storms of life you shall encounter.

Waste no time hesitating before taking initiative to pick up books and expand your knowledge. This will help you embrace and help you eventually develop an acquired taste in your adventure of striving to elevate yourself in all categories of education.

I’m proud of you and the young man you have the potential to become when you make a mistake in life. A real man steps up to the plate; he takes responsibility and has humility. This means being committed to take the proper steps to make amends. Don’t allow your pride to hinder you from apologizing sincerely. To fall into this from the advisory, will cause a void within you. And that void within you will deprive you from your initial purpose in life and will prevent you from keeping your clarity.

Everything is summed up in life with the gist of the power of choice! Let the faith I have in you be expressed through my writing, actions, and voice.

Sincerely your best friend-4-life,
Your Older Self

Like many people, I mark certain days in my life by memorable events both national and personal. I can tell you where I was when John F. Kennedy was shot and when Neil Armstrong put his first steps on the moon. Not all my memories are tied to outside events. Some are mile markers in my life—like marriages, divorces, and family occasions.

Shortly after my divorce, when I was doing my usual Friday night thing of watching
television—alone. Granted I was more of a party animal forty years ago than I am now, but even then, I did not maintain a lifestyle that anyone in their right mind would envy.

As I shifted positions to sprawl on the couch, I noticed a pain in my left breast and upon inspection, discovered a sizable lump. Large enough that I has no excuse to ponder the question, “Is this a problem, or not?” I needed to deal with it. At a time like that, so many things run through your mind. My maternal grandmother had two radical mastectomies. I wasn’t married, and my imagination took a dark turn as I visualized lopping off one breast which would either qualify me for spinsterhood or becoming an Amazon warrior. For the only time in my life, I regretted not choosing archery for my PE requirements.

After a restless night, I called my friend, Paulette, head of the American Cancer League. Paulette is petite, vivacious and energetic. I imagined her reaction to be quite different than reality. Two minutes into the conversation, I dropped my news. She became hysterical and had to hang up the phone, leaving me wondering why I had to brave it for both of us. But we were friends for a reason, and Paulette was nothing if not resilient. She called back with advice.

“Don’t bother going to your gynecologist. Go straight to your surgeon.”

My response was one of shock, “I’m thirty-four. I don’t have a surgeon.” A silence followed in which I had to question if everybody had a surgeon on speed dial. I certainly didn’t.

“I’ll help you find one. How do you feel about Elizabeth?” she asked.

Now one might assume that if I knew the names of surgeons, I could find one on my own. It was, after all, a fairly small town. While I knew that Elizabeth had become a doctor, I had no idea she was a surgeon. Nonetheless, I answered truthfully. “I didn’t like Elizabeth in the third grade. I don’t see myself becoming her patient now.”

Paulette is a much nicer woman that I am. She accepted my weak-assed answer without judgement. “Okay. Don’t give up. I’ll find you someone.”

Monday morning, she called back. “You don’t have an appointment but the office agreed to work you in between their other appointments. Show up at one.”

I’d never heard of the doctor, but I knew where the office was located. I was incredibly grateful I hadn’t had to make the call myself. It sounds so much better when someone pleads for you than when you are required to appear pathetic all on your own.

My mother and sister invited me to lunch. As a side note, let me say that my sister and I later developed an adversarial relationship, but at the time of this incident, things were still cordial between us. However, you might want to take into account that her reaction to this problem was a contributing factor as to why the bonds of sisterhood became strained.

The family joke (not particularly funny) is that I’m the family outlaw because everyone else is in law. However, with my ending up in prison, it took on an ominous quality of being an omen rather than humorous. Family events, including meals, were predominantly times used to discuss cases and pending litigation. Lunch was no exception. Most of the time, I don’t care. I learned to be self-entertaining at a young age.

At lunch, my sister announced that she wanted our mother to come to court with her that afternoon to help try a case, to which my mother said, “No, it’s overkill. You don’t need me.”

An argument ensued, which went on for several minutes while I moved food from one side of the plate to the other, too tense to eat. Finally, my sister asked, “What is so important that you can’t join me?”

As the noodles inched their way to a new location, my mother said, “I’m going to Hannah’s doctor’s appointment with her.” A profound sense of relief washed over me which lasted until my sister asked, “Why? It’s not like she’s going under the knife or anything?”

And with those words a sharp pain sliced my breast with an imaginary blade. My mother didn’t back down. Together, we went to the doctor’s office, which was a large square room filled with rooms that backed against all four walls. The only vacancies were two adjacent chairs with a corner table separating them. The room was unbelievably quiet. Of course, in my mind I was hearing the death knoll over my breasts scream into my eardrums.

My mother took her seat, picked up a magazine, and said in what I’m sure was a normal voice but sounded to me like she said, “HANNAH, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS?” as she held up a picture. The last time I’d felt this conspicuous was in middle school, when I believed my goal in life had been to never be noticed as I faded into the wallpaper.

I got called almost immediately and was convinced that the reason involved the receptionist believing it was the only method she could employ to silence my mother.

I waited in the windowless room, wearing nothing above my waist but the usual paper gown. The door opened, I turned to see Doogie Howser, the youngest doctor I’ve ever see in my life, entering the room. I don’t remember my exact thoughts, but I might have taken Paulette’s name in vain.

Dr. Doogie examined the breast and said, “Sure enough, that’s a lump.” At no time was I feeling reassured, complicated by the syringe in his hand with a four-foot-long needle that he plunged into the offending mass, all the time giving me the lecture on preventative care such as regular breast exams and mammograms.

Liquid, the color of tea, filled the syringe. “It’s a cyst,” he announced. The words had barely left his lips, when tears rolled down my cheeks. He looked confused. “This is the good news.”

“I know,” unable to stop crying.

I left the room. Paid the bill, which they’d calculated to be a standard doctor visit, not a procedure, and found my mother in the waiting room. In my absence she’d managed to get the entire room talking. I cheered her ability to loosen a room.

My relief was so palpable that I felt like Tiny Tim on Christmas Day and longed to scream to the heavens. “God bless us, everyone.” | HB

You’re on your own now.

A whole new world you know absolutely nothing about.

Chest out eyes dry.

Placeless without footing but, you stand firm in your belief that you’re a good man. A good man in a bad place.

A world where fear and destruction is on the menu and violence is bartered as currency.

You do become a product of your environment once you establish an ego and make pride your purpose. You’ll find your tribe but must still stand alone. Faces come and go some don’t make the cut but all promise to not forget how the silence slices the soul while in solitude. They pinky swear to not leave you in other places.

Out of sight, out of mind.

A strange world when you can’t hold on to nothing precious because your hands are required to remain clenched — tight fisted.

It’s better to want for naught and go without than to thirst for life in the midst of drought.

A world where all is illusion a game of charades bragging boasts of backwards thinking and doing deeds that damn our souls. We trip ourselves and set our snares then cry victim, woe is me, no one cares. This is a world of honor and place of pride with mountains of respect and loyalty flowing like rivers into oceans of sacrifice. Invisible lines drawn in the dunes to establish rules and expectations we set for each other. These are the rules that shape our lives and unfortunately take others.

This is a world where the strong survives and most dreams go to die. Designed to crush a spirit and force feed you conformity. But you will adapt and overcome. You will find the treasures hid in dark places and become more than they had planned for you. The struggle and strife gives you the fire to test your mettle against. The cold hard unyielding world that this is. Welcome to prison mind body and soul. | TA

You stood sunburnt and freckled on a rock that jutted out of the Chetco River, steadying your small feet and squeezing your wrinkled toes to gain purchase. You would swim across the river to an outcropping of rocks, if dog paddling and inhaling only swallowing amounts of water is swimming.

Standing just a few feet above the surface, what had seemed like a small hop when viewed from the other side of the river, now felt like a death jump. Your father treaded water below, waiting and encouraging.

You are not the type of person that jumps off a rock into a body of water. When you enter the river, in fact, it is done by dipping in a toe, then testing an ankle, and then, perhaps experimenting with a knee. Each step requires its moment of acclimation, sometimes followed by a retreat and reassessment.

Yet on this day, the death grip of anxiety that so often suffocates your mind has dampened. There would be no retreat.

You jumped.

The heart-grasping shock of water. Your father’s sure hands. Coughing like a chain smoker as water burned your lungs. The exhilaration of having taken the leap these are memories that will never leave you.

But for most of your life, you won’t jump. You will be inconspicuously polite. You will speak only after layers of thought, after rehearsing what you’ll say, and after planning responses to potential questions. The politeness of small talk will elude you. Your pleasantries will be stiff.

You will compensate for this anxiety by hyper-focusing on independence. In other words, you never ask for help.

The months before you turn 18, you will move a four-hour drive away from your hometown. You will get an apartment, find a job — two actually— and enroll in community college.

But what you think of as eagerness for independence and maturity, this desire you have to leave your childhood behind, is actually impatience, which is one of your most childish qualities. It will be years before you realize this.

The classroom is always an easy place for you, so college seemed like the natural next step in your life. When other students wavered, you never hesitated. School was breeze that barely brushed you on your way by.

In college, however, you will struggle for the first time. The classes require more. And the truth is that you don’t know how to study. You have never had to develop study habits.

Doing well in school part of your identity and the idea of failing is overwhelming. You quit rather than try, while dodging the numerous tutors and study groups that are available. The risk of failure is too great to bear, and the only thing worse than failure, in your mind, is ask for help.

When you are in your twenties, you will love someone and she will never know. You will meet at work. You will quickly come to treasure her radiant smiles in the smoldering fire that is tangles of her red hair. You will love how graciously she makes conversations include you, in a way that eases your anxiety social situations. She is the type of gregarious person that has gravity — if you come too close, she will pull you into her world to live as an extrovert until she lets you go.

Once after a day, when the sun was low and shadows were long, you will find yourself watching her work. She was cleaning a countertop and had not noticed you yet. The light made gold rivets in her red tangles.

You could feel your courage growing as you rehearsed the conversation you hope to have.

Then you realize she saw your shadow on the floor when you approached. sShe knows you are standing there.

Maybe it was regret of being seen too early, your lack of courage being known, or the unwillingness to risk and perhaps fail, but a tightly knit cage of anxiety clung around your heart and you retreated to awkward small talk that not even the gravity of her spirit could ease.

The moment passed. Later as you played this failure in your mind, you realized that she wanted you to love her and would mistake your hesitance for lack of interest.

You will work at the same job for the next three years, because that is where she works and you hope to manufacture another moment like the one you fumbled. You will fit snugly together as friends, sharing parts of your lives, yet never the whole. Your other friends will prod you, though you deny your feelings when they ask. To admit them would make your failures known, and worse, they might try to help.

But there will never be another moment.

For most of your life you will ruminate on the moments you have missed.

People you know and love will pass away, and you will feel the burden of things unsaid and time misspent.

People will treat you unfairly, and you will carry the weight of injustice as if it makes you stronger, rather than speaking up and letting go.

You will treat people unfairly, but you will rationalize rather than recognize. Apologies make you self-conscious, and it is easier to place blame than to accept it. You will regret the moments when you did not apologize but should have.

It goes without saying there are moments in your life I would change, first among them is the decision that sent you to prison. But I’m not sure it would work that way, that I could pick a single moment and remove it and somehow prevent that event from occurring in the future.

So instead I offer a small pebbles tossed into the pond in which we swim, in hopes that they might ripple through the waters of time, influencing your life at the right moments.

The first Pebble: just jump. You will be happier for it.

And the second: if you find you cannot jump, remember that one of the reasons your feet left the rock was that your father was treading water below. It’s OK to have help. | PL

Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

ABOUT LIFE LINES: SOLITARY JOURNAL PROJECT
Bridgeworks Oregon has collected prompts and responses from the PonyXpress workshops sessions run weekly at OSP on the activities floor. You will start your day by responding to each prompt. If you are regular writer, think of this journal as a warm-up for your day of writing. If you don’t consider yourself a writer, give this a chance and see what you discover about yourself.

Shu

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To love your fate is to recognize that your life is an indivisible whole, a tightly woven tapestry in which no thread can be removed without distorting the entire pattern. If you reject a single event, a single relationship, a single failure, symbolically refuse the life that has been shaped through them.
Ali Mattar, Fate

In Fate, Ali Mattar passionately argues a case for Amor fati, the love of one’s fate. This perspective requires recognition that all life experiences come together to make the whole. While we might wish to set aside parts of our past (the pain, the mistakes, the failures), this denial only weakens the whole life. But let’s face it, when you are in the drink, it’s pretty damn hard to cling to the amor.

I distinctly remember the first time I saw a Kintsugi pot — the delicate threading of gold lacquer securely bonding a once-broken Japanese tea bowl. I felt a deep relief at the thought that repair could be transformative, so exquisitely beautiful — scars exalted. In a world of flawless skin and straight A’s, my younger self was hungry for the grace found in skinned knees and spilled milk. In addition to the kintsugi artists’ aptitude and skill, they possess a vision for seeing the whole anew. How do we gain this sight — cultivate the ability to fit pieces together to make (not the old vessel) but the reformed container that holds a new purpose?

In this collection of letters to the younger self, our writers site the spiritual and religious anchors that have guided them when they have felt like shards of a human. They argue for prayer, study, and faith. And they reenforce the ever-present need for community, acknowledging that they come to the circle imperfectly formed.

Albert Wright writes: As you travel along your path, you will become lost. You will find yourself in dark places — places that you never knew existed or thought you’d be in. It’s okay, though. These moments will become defining; they will reshape the core of you. And that is what must happen. Unfortunately, there is no other way for you to learn the lessons you must in order for you to understand your purpose and to figure out your vision. And, when you do you will experience a deeper sense of self than you ever had before. You will start to awaken from your nightmare and see the new path that lays ahead. Take it with determination. Take it intentionally. For there you will find genuine authenticity, humility, and integrity — three core values, I hold dear.

Thomas Derr writes: One thing I can say to you is learn to read. Learn to read well. Learn to read of heaven; safely tread through hell. Read of lofty flight, of worlds that might have been. For these are our creations; worlds that you, too, can create. Read of our fragmented selves in the book “No Bad Parts” – could it be true? A guide to befriending those isolated, detached self-identities back into a whole. A whole internal family of a loving, playful soul. And read of how traumas bury themselves to the bone in the book “The Body Keeps the Score”. Read of heavens sought for in silence through the sages of Contemplative Prayer – Father Thomas Merton, St. John of the Cross, Father Thomas Keating’s Intimacy with God”. Read them and many more.

Elijah Williams sits himself down for a talkin’ to: Remember, the only person/persons who will never turn on you is God who needs to be #1 and #2 yourself. Once you get that down, you’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.

And from our constant gardner Jai: I also know that your current sense of loneliness hurts worse than a broken leg, or an abscessed tooth. You are tribal in nature and purpose and I know the huge heart you have for the people, that you’re geared toward connection and community. That nagging sense of being lost and these feelings of hopelessness, currently finding no belonging are actually the fingerprints of God in your life. As strange as that sounds now, one day you will come to know that these are the instincts and passions that drive you to build and create community wherever you go throughout your life.

As I read about Jai’s tribal nature, I imagine the souls in his circle fitting together to make a larger whole. Brains fire in such unique ways that carving a path between words and understanding feels nothing short of a miracle. In this vision, the connective mortar between these beings may be a shared vision or values. Stepping the metaphor a bit closer, I think of a great collaborator as a person who complements my tendencies, my skills. For example, I have been known to fuss over an email (or these posts!) — writing and rewriting to hone my message. Whereas Danny might just pick up the phone and start the conversation. From time to time, this fit feels imperfect (uhm, we could use a little extra lacquer to fill the cracks), but the differences between our impulses allows us to grow our work and our selves a little further every day. | TDS

Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

PONYXPRESS SKILLS: TWO ESSAYS
This worksheet describes two different strategies for writing an essay.

Edovo

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Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

ABOUT CARRY IT FORWARD: BEST OF ISSUE 2
The editors at Oregon State Penitentiary selected the best work from the second issue of the PonyXpress and collected it into a printed version to be distributed to the contributors, and this PDF version published inside on Edovo.

Edovo

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Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

ABOUT EMBERS & BARK
Bridgeworks Oregon’s writing program at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility in Wilsonville, Oregon produced the collaborative chapbook with the women taking the lead to select themes and produce work that they refined over the time and finally, performed for their peers in the prison’s chapel. You can purchase a copy of the book through the link above or download it for free below.

Edovo

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Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

PONYXPRESS SKILLS: MAPPING WRITING

This worksheet presents ideas to plan your writing.

Edovo

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Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

ON LOVE: BEST OF ISSUE 3 | 2024
The editors at Oregon State Penitentiary selected the best work from the third issue of the PonyXpress and collected it into a printed version to be distributed to the contributors, and this PDF version published inside on Edovo. | TDS

Edovo

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Bridgeworks Oregon is working with Edovo.org (the free platform on prison tablets) to design and publish resources and self-guided study courses for folks inside and their family and friends. We believe crossover activities in the humanities provide much needed shared experiences for everyone — and we feel that is critical to cultivate creative expression for people in prison.

ABOUT THREE SONGS BY DANNY WILSON
This course starts with reading lyrics and then, watching a performance of each song by Bridgework’s own Danny Wilson. Download the videos and the 7-page PDF which corresponds with the course on the Edovo tablets under the heading Bridgeworks Oregon courses. The course and the music are free on Edovo for folks inside. Try a few activities and share the resulting writing with a friend or family member.

Three Songs

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