Peacock Dreams

We rose at 4:30 yesterday morning, driving out over Altamont Pass as the sun rose. We drove past cows and fields, truck stops and a whole lotta nothing for almost three hours. We were driving to Chowchilla, to the Valley State Women's Prison.

We had a date with Patrick McCollum, a champion of civil rights and dedicated prison chaplain, to do a Samhain ritual for around 50 incarcerated women. He'd been down there for two days already, doing services at two other area prisons.

The women were very excited to see him, grinning and greeting him like a long lost friend. He is their long lost friend. These women have to struggle to get to religious services. They struggle against guards who won't let them out "for the good of their souls" or against other prisoners who beat them for their beliefs. These women show up anyway. They teach each other what they know. They try to practice and read what they can get their hands on. And they wait for the days Patrick shows up and they can gather together.

I taught the women four-fold breathing and soul alignment. Some took to the exercises quickly, closing their eyes and centering, while others kept eyes open and watchful. All of them, however, sat up straight in their chairs when I told them it was time to breathe and all of them did the breathing and alignment. All of them were there to participate. They weren't just attending for a break in routine. I taught them about the parts of their soul, and about bringing all of our parts into conversation and relationship as they nodded in understanding.

The women created our sacred circle and called the elements and Patrick played his fiddle while the women did a raucous spiral dance. The prison wouldn't let me take my drums in - not on the list - so I improvised with a plastic container. Then came the central portion - the naming of the dead. Each woman stepped forward with a leaf to represent her dead. They named sons and daughters, grandparents and parents, wives and husbands, most of whom died without the women being present. They placed each leaf in a cauldron as we said with them, "We remember." One woman stepped forward and held out her leaf: "For those killed in war and for C____, the victim of my crime." Again we said, "We remember." There were tears and there was shyness. Some women wept alone, while others were held by their friends.

Then it was time for the feast. Women piled food from their own plates onto the plates for the ancestors. They also made sure their guests were fed. We talked and talked, as I spent time at almost every table. They all were interested. We talked about world religions and cultures. We talked about practice. We talked together about taking responsibility for our lives and actions. These women had a quick understanding of that concept, more so than some I've met. They wanted more information and most said they intended to try practicing the breathing every day.

And we sang together.

This visit struck me. I've taught people all over the world, and I've worked with the homeless and drug addicts for years, and put forth efforts to try to change society. The thought I had yesterday was this: if we can help a few people in prison to shift something inside of themselves, we are contributing to changing culture from the inside out. Our culture is broken in many ways, and in California it is glaringly obvious: the increase in prisons and the decrease in school funding shows what is important to us. We have reified alienation. We are breeding disconnection.

We all need to practice, to learn, and to share. But it seems to me that helping those in prison to come into greater alignment with themselves and each other, is one chance we have as a culture to come into broader alignment as a whole, healing something closer to the core of our society, rather than continuing to deepen the rifts that keep us acting out of anger and dis-ease. We are all in prison, and we just keep building more walls.

I will continue to do work with those who are raising families, working jobs, tending gardens and trying to come to wholeness in the midst of ordinary life. But I also want to help Patrick do this work that most of us won't do: tending to the forgotten, the hated, the maligned. I want to be able to say to these women, "We remember you" because to not remember puts our own lives in peril. As long as our society wants to shove these people aside as "not us" we will continue to do that to our own wounded parts, and we will never become whole.

Patrick does all of this, along with fighting court cases for the rights of prisoners with minority religions, without pay and often at great expense to himself. I'm going to ask you now to help him. If you feel so moved, and have a few dollars in these troubled times, please send him money as a service to us all.

Checks may be sent to:
Patrick McCollum
1480 Moraga Road Suite 1, #237
Moraga CA. 94556

with a subject line: for prison ministry

You may also make donations via paypal if you scroll down his website: Courting the Lady. He promises me that the button to order his book will sprout an additional one for prison donations by tomorrow.

Blessed be.