A volunteer at Ma’asiyahu Prison shares:

One of the important topics I emphasize is the ability to remain with discomfort, unpleasantness.

At first, inmates don’t understand why they should remain with what is unpleasant to them. After practice I hear them, time and again, speak about how situations that in the past caused them great suffering during their stay in prison, don’t cause them suffering any more, but only cause them a little discomfort or unpleasantness.

Yesterday the prison session on the topic of stopping was very powerful. It is a relatively new group, and a new inmate who joined was impressed by having time to sit quietly without the prison commotion around. He said something really beautiful, about how even the refrigerator’s engine has a break every now and then, and how people who invented the refrigerator don’t understand that they have to stop every now and then, too. I was moved by how in one experience he connected with his need to stop.

A volunteer at Ha’sharon Prison shares:

“Meeting the inmates is very significant for me, and I think it is for them, too. The fact that I come from the outside and don’t belong to the Israel Prison Service already means a lot to them. Their feeling is that they are important to someone, that they are worthy, that I care for them. This human meeting, with no expectations, prejudice and judgment, heals – me and them. A few moments of peace in a meditation practice are a rare gift for them, in their situation of external noise in prison and insistent worrisome thoughts. They crave this peace and wait for it all week. It is a privilege for me to enable them this contact with peace.”

A volunteer at Shita Prison shares:

“I went to prison following a teaching of a text that spoke of a “diamond” found in every person, a spark of goodness, radiant and indestructible. I had the urge to see this diamond in the eyes of those imprisoned there.

My feeling is that in prison Bodhicitta shines brighter than anywhere else, perhaps because the energies get so strong. I am at awe of the group participants and education staff’s ability to maintain their humanity, mutual respect and friendship despite the difficult circumstances. I learn there much more than I teach.”

A volunteer at Ma’asiyahu Prison shares:

“I have been volunteering at Ma’asiyahu prison for five years, and before that I volunteered at a hostel for released female prisoners. I came to study the Dharma out of a personal crisis that also led me to study Psychology and want to help and influence.

Coming to Ma’asiyahu every week, sitting with people who have gone through mental and physical hardships, is not just walking the path. It is being the path.

I am a member of a Sangha for many years. Receiving, absorbing, learning, progressing, and passing it forward to additional people who need the path. Receiving and giving – that is the motion, and that is Dharma for me.

The participants at Ma’asiyahu move me anew at every moment. Seeing the change, even the slightest, evokes wonder and joy. A participant who shares that he no longer struggles with himself during meditation, that he has learned not to judge himself when he’s not ‘concentrated enough’, when his attention wanders. Another participant, who was only busy with bodily aches and complaining about the
conditions, starts to hear birds and talks about inner peace, which can also be clearly seen externally. Another participant who says that he noticed when writing to his daughter, that he is asking her to not judge or criticize, a quality he is practicing in the group.

The greatest satisfaction and excitement is to hear some of the participants who support other inmates with mental problems, talking about how they practice meditation with them, hearing them use the words they hear and internalize during our shared meetings. They pass forward the mood of the group.

And that is Dharma, being of benefit to the world. I have had the privilege of being part of this project and passing the Dharma forward.”

A volunteer at Shita Prison shares:

“One of the inmates in the group was told that he could not participate in the morning classes because he is driving the teachers mad. When I arrived at prison that afternoon he was irritated and didn’t want to join the meditation. It took time, but eventually he agreed to join the group. I knew he liked singing, so I asked him to sing, and asked another inmate to suggest a song for him to sing.

He sang a beautiful, long song in Arabic. When he finished, he thanked the man who suggested the song, walked over and embraced him. I asked for a translation. The song was about a prisoner who wants to be free. It is a song of longing for the village, longing for liberty. The participants talked about how music and sitting together takes them away from worrisome thoughts that preoccupy the head and leads them to the space of the heart. These moments were moving and full of sadness. Sadness because of the great sadness expressed in the song, and moving because of the embrace, and because it let us feel the power of togetherness.”

A volunteer at Shita Prison shares:

“I was sitting in the New York subway after a year away, during which I started leading meditation in prison. At one point one of those people who stand in the middle of the subway car and give a fiery speech boarded the train. My old response would have been to try and ignore him and maybe be a little afraid. This time I found myself listening to him, waiting to hear crumbs of truth and wisdom, sentences that will illuminate me.

When I realized I was listening to this person, whose life had led him to give speeches on the subway, I thought: wow, how prison work has changed me. Suddenly I listen to these people, marginalized by society and marginalized by my mind. Suddenly I realize that they have much to teach us – specifically because of the pain they live in.”

A volunteer at Carmel Prison shares:

Recently, the project with which I volunteer in the prison has grown and the group of inmates grew too – from 10 to 20. It has been a while now that I come to the meetings with the feeling that the transition to a large group is so difficult that I cannot really get to know and hear them all and that something isn’t working properly. Many inmates fall asleep and many do not participate. In discussions in which the team of education officers also participated, questions arose as to how to proceed. The most active members of the group also expressed frustration at the size of the group and were angry at other inmates who were asleep and did not respect the group.

With all this in my mind, I came to the last meeting and decided to share my feelings and doubts about how to continue. The meeting was really good and meaningful. We opened the subject to discussion. I shared with them my feeling that it is not easy to have a meeting with such a large group, when one cannot hear them all, and that it is more difficult to feel safe and share one’s feelings frankly and openly. I asked them what rules they thought could support us, so that we could have a meeting that would be significant even in such a large group.

There was an interesting conversation about taking responsibility. We talked about rules that are imposed from the outside versus the possibility of paying attention and choosing our own supportive rules. We talked again about the essence of this practice and its value for us. We talked about practicing attention not only when we sit with our eyes closed, but actually at every moment, even while talking and listening and in our daily activities.

I learned something about my presence, which is needed to hold the group and the space and the common practice. It is a presence full of love and unconditional acceptance, but at the same time, it is strong and dominant, present in every step, all the time, not letting the energy disperse. I feel that something has honed my understanding of the need for this second part. The part of the loving presence has always been there, and after this encounter I also realize their need for a strong presence and for clear rules. I now understand the clear rules as an act of love and support rather than an act of domination or coercion.

Thus, the structure of the encounter was very clear with very brief exercises of a minute or two (attention to sounds, to breathing, to emotion) followed by a return to the shared presence in the group and highly focused collaboration: What have I noticed? What surprised me? What did I find that is new?

The sharing was done in the form of a listening circle: with a speaking object and a reminder of rules about how to share – listening with the heart and without judgment, speaking from the heart. The object signals to us who speaks and who listens and helps us be attentive.

I see that whenever something is not working with the group, in fact it’s an opportunity to deepen my learning as the facilitator, as well as for the inmates to learn. The possibility of listening to what does not work opens the door to learning and changing that is attuned and in touch with reality.

Of course, the inmates also benefited from a number of things: the ability to learn from mistakes, to draw attention to what doesn’t work – out of curiosity and without judgment, learning through partnership and at eye level and a leadership that is not aggressive and controlling, but respectful and loving.

A volunteer at Be’er Sheva Prison shares:

“Today, when I arrived at the prison, the educational officer who came to pick me up to take me to the cell block was excited to tell me: “A. was released this morning, earlier than expected”. I admit I don’t know everyone by their first name so it took me a minute to realize who A. was and the rest was even more surprising. A. arrived at the courthouse next to the jail last Thursday. He faced the judge who scanned the list of courses and workshops he attended. When she recognized the word “meditation” she asked A. what the meaning of the word was. A. explained the meaning, he talked about everyday life benefits for us and for those around us and even led her (in the course of the trial) to shut her eyes, focus on her breathing and just be present in the moment. According to the prison guards who were there, the judge was mesmerized.”

A volunteer at Be’er Sheva Prison shares:

I wanted to share a touching event that happened in the inmates’ meditation group a few weeks ago, when one of the inmates was guiding the meditation.
D. was part of the meditation group from its very first days. At first he was very quiet, and shared nothing. But he faithfully arrived to all the meditation sessions, and with time he opened up a little to the rest of us. After a while he suddenly stopped arriving to the sessions. Before going into the meditation hall I would stroll around the department and say hello to everybody, and when I saw D. I would encourage him to join the session, and he would refuse. A while later he did come to one session, and when it ended, said that he had forgotten how good meditation was for him, and that now he saw that the times when one doesn’t feel like practicing and joining the group are actually the times when practicing is most important. After that, he began arriving regularly, sharing more and more often, and practicing with zeal.

Throughout my time of volunteering in that jail, I made sure to watch the inmates with an eye that keeps it in mind that each and every one of them might, one day, become my own teacher. I wanted to give the inmates a space not only for practicing but also for holding the group, instructing the meditation themselves. Being in an empowered place, a place of giving.

I wrote down meditation instructions, printed them and handed them out to the inmates, so that they could also practice when I wasn’t there. On each of my visits, I encouraged a different group member to give one guided meditation during the meeting. Most of the time they didn’t even use the printed instructions. With the group’s permission, and in response to a wish they had expressed, I reached an agreement with the head of the department that they would have, twice a week, a time slot on the daily schedule for practicing on their own, without my presence.

After six months I left the place because I had moved to another town, and the volunteer who took my place told me how the story unfolded: “D. is now one of the regular and dominant members of the group, and it was touching for me to read about the process he went through with the difficulties he had had when he began to practice.
“During my welcome meeting with the group, in which the former volunteer was also present, the group told me that the inmates used to guide some of the meditations during the meetings. In the following meetings I repeatedly invited group members to guide the meditation, but it was clear that they didn’t feel comfortable enough with me as yet, and so I didn’t push it.
“Once we had come to know each other better, there was a meeting when D. said he would like to guide a meditation next week. He arrived at the following session with the printed instructions, and guided it in a professional and confident manner. D. was given very good feedback by other group members and by me, and it was evident that the experience was meaningful and empowering for him.”

A volunteer at Ma’asiyahu Prison shares:

When I entered the club some of the inmates were already waiting there. One of them was red with fury: “I’m going to bust them, how can this be, this shitty air- conditioner isn’t working. It’s so hot in here you could die, I’m going to go out of the meeting and call my lawyer, they haven’t heard the last of me!”
I sat down quietly and waited for the other prisoners to enter the room where we practice.

During the meeting we talked about pain and suffering and the difference between them. We talked about how we concern ourselves with wanting to change what is, instead of being present with what is.
Towards the end of the meeting we sat again for a short mediation. Afterwards I asked how everybody was doing and what they had noticed during the meditation. That same prisoner said quietly: “I noticed the breeze from the air conditioner.” I smiled at him. He smiled back and said: “There is a chance that this is going to change my life.”