Meanwhile, I decided to explore the theme of shifting from victim to a more empowered role at the women’s prison here via “JourneyDance” -  a yoga-dance form that grew out of the Kripalu yoga tradition.  It was quite inspiring– especially because the women far exceeded my expectations in their willingness to be who they are, to play and to receive.  Here is my fairly detailed account of our victim/empowerment dance:

I started out talking about how I had been looking at/wrestling with my own victim stories that week and invited them to use our time together, if it was right for them, to explore these themes as well.  I also reminded them that this was not about judging or blaming our victims, but rather seeing them clearly so that we could choose more empowering options.  In the mellow stretching sequences I led a combination of messy chaotic, contracted movements with big long wide open stretches as a way of setting up the energetic distinction.  As we began to take up space in the room to some Cuban samba I invited them to drop in and out of a “victim” dance and right away one woman remarked at how different the victim’s dance felt and how easy it was to go there and feel it.  We then did a fun follow-the-leader dance to Michael Franti’s “Hello-Bonjour”: “I don’t need a passport to walk on this earth, Anywhere I go ’cause I was made of this earth, I’m born of this earth, I breathe of this earth, And even with the pain I believe in this earth…”

Then we moved into some shamanic drumming/chanting and I asked each of them to take turns making a sound and a movement associated with being a victim and the rest of us would mirror it– we had roars and whines and boo hoos and growls.  Then we went around again, starting with our original sound/movement but gradually transforming it into an empowered sound/movement — again with the rest of us mirroring.  Without me even cuing it the empowered movements were visually “above the line”– upright– and the sounds were courageous and bright.  I then noted that the victim dance/feelings were called “below the line” and the empowered dance was “above the line” and so we took the victim sounds/movement down towards the floor and as we rose up they became boisterous and strong and jubilant– we went back and forth and on our last time up– Aretha Franklin started in with R-E-S-P-E-C-T.  (Sometimes the music timing gods are really with me!)   As everyone sang along, I invited them to dance respect for ourselves and for each other.  After that was an Irish jig “Lord of the Dance” and I had each of us dance our strong jubilant dance in the center while the others mirrored and radiated love to the center dancer.  Next up was “Falling or Flying” by Grace Potter; they each chose a scarf to dance with as they explored this question– are we falling or flying?  “Are we falling or flying, Are we living or dying, Cause my friend this too shall pass, So play every show like it’s your last.”

Finally, we slowly transitioned to shavasana (relaxation pose) with some Tibetan music, belly breathing and a loving kindness meditation– sending kind wishes to ourselves, to loved ones, to other inmates, and to all beings.  We closed with a seated meditation, and I asked them to visualize holding their victim in their arms as a mother might, and to send her safety, happiness, health and ease as well…

The Yogi-Inmate Collaborative is a special project of the internationally recognized Prison Dharma Network.  To learn more, please visit the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative Website.  To sponsor a Yogi-Inmate, please go to the Prison Dharma Network’s secure donation form– at the bottom there is a checkbox for special projects– click “yogi-inmates!”  Donations to the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative are tax deductible.

We often say in Laughter Yoga that we are “laughing for no reason.”  This assertion is based on two fundamental principals of the practice: 1) that we don’t need a reason to laugh and 2) that the benefits of laughter depend upon the laughter itself, and not upon its impetus.  Obviously, however, when we practice this unconventional exercise, we are very much laughing for a reason– whether it be for our mental, emotional and physical health, our sense of connection to others, the simple enjoyment of child-like fun or our overall sense of joy and well being.  However, this past year as I’ve led the daily national laugh-line and worked with a range of clients as a Laughter Life Coach, I’ve watched with amazed delight as another reason comes into focus: the power of proactive laughter (play) as a tool for bringing essential yoga-dharma teachings to life.  When we greet the teachings in this way, our bodies gain a visceral understanding of their truth while our hearts are open, spacious and light.  An example: in the aforementioned prison meditation class, we are reading Pema Chodron’s classic book, “Start Where You Are.”   In Chapter 2, entitled “No Big Deal,” Pema Chodron discusses gentleness, and how we can imagine our thoughts as bubbles that we can then choose to pop with a feather.  Pema’s image offers a perfect opportunity to invite proactive laughter in– together, we imagine a thought bubble emerging– wow!  We might even chase it around for a few moments– weee!  Then we playfully tap the thought with a feather-like touch, it disappears into nothingness, –pop– and we laugh with great delight– ha ha ha ha!   Thus, hearts bright, we see and feel clearly what it means to upend, rather than reinforce, our habitual patterns of struggle that so often show up on the “cushion.”

Tomorrow I begin a new class at a medium security prison.  This class will be all new faces, many of whom have likely never been asked to notice a single breath, much less a series of them.  As we dive into the practice of mindfulness and meditation, I hope to explore using laughter, not only as a tool for stress release and connection, but also as a way of bringing conceptual yoga-dharma into the spacious, child-like knowing of the body at play.   In this way, we allow for deeper integration as we return to both traditional practice and to day to day life (whether inside prison walls or out).

With respect to the more traditional Laughter Yoga form, I’ve included below a youtube video of a talk I gave last December at a local Pecha Kucha.  A Pecha Kucha (pronounced peh-chak-cha) is a Japanese salon form in which each presenter gets 20 slides, 20 seconds per slide.  I gave a half hour version of this talk a month earlier during which I had lots of room to (literally) breathe and play.  Getting it down to the Pecha Kucha form– the requisite 6 minutes and 40 seconds– was a real challenge for me!  Some of what landed on the editing room floor included:

• A brief discussion of the Laughing Buddha (Budai in Chinese, Hotei in Japanese), who was not the historical Buddha Siddhartha Gautama but rather an itinerant monk known for his contentment, generosity and kindheartedness.
• A demonstration of “Cookie Jar Laughter,” which is an exercise that grew out of a discussion with inmates about their favorite childhood activities– baseball, basketball, swimming… and “stealing cookies out of a cookie jar”!
• A more thorough discussion of the distinctions between laughter as celebration and emotional release versus laughter as an intellectual response to humor…
• A round of “Mean Scary Convict” laughter– which is an exercise inspired by photographer Peter Cunningham who I met at a Prison Dharma Network function.  As I was offering my zealous account of laughing in prison, Peter mentioned how we all wear masks all the time– and in the inmates case, we often project a “mean scary convict” mask.   I turned this into a laughter exercise in a subsequent prison meditation class: step 1) acknowledge the “mean scary convict” mask by looking angry and serious, and then step 2) take the mask off, uncovering our true selves, smiling and laughing.  Repeat.

Anyway– here’s the video– would love your feedback.

The Yogi-Inmate Collaborative is a special project of the internationally recognized Prison Dharma Network.  To learn more, please visit the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative Website.  To sponsor a Yogi-Inmate, please go to the Prison Dharma Network’s secure donation form– at the bottom there is a checkbox for special projects– click “yogi-inmates!”  Donations to the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative are tax deductible.

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Part of my intention in creating the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative was to offer periodic reflections on how yoga, in its deepest sense of “union,” shows up within the prison context and what that might mean for us on the “outside.”  And so I offer this blog– my first!

An update:  This fall I have had the privilege of regularly visiting three different prisons (two of which I visit on a weekly basis):

• Along with my trusty colleague Stephen Young, I have explored yoga—asana, pranayama, laughter and meditation— with a group of 16 yogi-inmates at Donald Price Men’s Medium Security II Facility.
• I’ve offered a weekly JourneyDance class (a dance form that grew out of the Kripalu yoga tradition) to a group of women at Dorothea Dix Women’s Minimum Security Facility.  Class size ranges from 8 to 15.
• I have sat several evenings with the long-standing meditation class (now in its fifth year) at John J. Moran Medium I Men’s Facility.  This class averages 40 participants.

While working in the prison is synonymous with logistical hassles and unknowns, there is never a day that I am not moved by the inmates’ effort, candor and willingness to dive into unfamiliar territory.  At Price, whether it is sitting quietly with the breath, stretching in awkward configurations or laughing in unconventional ways, the men (most of whom are completely new to contemplative practice) have been remarkably willing to trust Stephen and I as their guides.  At Dix, the women simply blow me away as they connect with each other and themselves on the “dance floor” (even if that floor is cracking concrete –ouch!– in a dingy basement) and their bodies and hearts open up.  And at Moran, where I am always moved by the depth and stillness of their meditation practice, the men were willing to run around shaking hands and laughing like loons with each other, just because I asked.

The inmates’ trust is especially moving given that what I am offering reflects my own humble journey with my own versions of unworthiness, sorrow, bitterness and regret.  Practicing inside the walls with men and women for whom the “three poisons”– greed, hatred and delusion– have dealt real and obvious consequences inspires me to take a second look at how those same poisons show up in my own life.  It also offers a weekly reminder – as I step outside the last locked door– of the simple blessings of an un-incarcerated life.  How grateful I am to be miraculously free enough to touch the rough trunk of a tree, eat a carefully prepared beet salad, place my head on a soft pillow by my honey’s side…

What moves me most about offering yoga in prison is that each week, while I do my best to model and teach (in my own imperfect way) a kinder, more loving approach to living, I am asked to explore the limits of what the genuine practice of yoga (union) is suggesting: the possibility that wellbeing and authentic joy are not conditional on personal circumstances (in other words, not conditional on tree trunks and beets and soft pillows).

Can this be true?  Long ago I stumbled across a book by Thich Nhat Han called “Be Free Where You Are,” a transcription of a speech he gave at a Maximum Security Penitentiary in Pennsylvania.  At the time I was in the middle of some considerable personal suffering and the book brought me up straight: “If Thich Nhat Han is asking these men to find freedom in a limp institutional green bean, I damn well am responsible for finding it in the bright green fresh ones on my plate.”

A half decade later, my path has led me back to the institutionalized version of the proverbial green bean.  I know that the joy I regularly experience inside the walls, the joy of sharing the best of myself, is many realities apart from the day in and day out of echoing negativity that is the inmates’ experience.  That said, I recently asked the inmates to share some of their thoughts about this journey so far.  I think their responses offer a glimpse into what is possible:

On meditation at Donald Price:

“Meditation is a quieting of my mind—a centering.  I live in a dorm with 67 other people—it gets very loud.  I go outside and sit in the middle of the yard— I have gotten good at centering and quieting. I also use the breathing as I stretch and it makes it possible for me to stretch more.   This has been an awesome experience for me.”

“Meditation is peace, relaxation.  Slows my whole mind, body.  It brings me somewhere I’ve never been.  I lay on my bunk, close my eyes, everyday, at peace.  The most important thing I’ve learned is to just be more aware of my surroundings.”

“Meditation allows me to escape the madness that built up within me.  I meditate every night before going to sleep—it relaxes me.  The most important thing I’ve learned is that there is an alternative to stress.”

On JourneyDance at Dorothea Dix:

“The class exercises my body as well as my spirit.  I love connecting to a part of myself (and others) that is neglected in prison (maybe in the outside world too) — the pure joy we carry in our hearts.  I’ve learned how to express myself through dance—I’ve danced struggle and pain, dreams and love.  I have learned things I will take with me, but they are difficult to put in words.”

“This class allows me to exhibit my personality through dance.  It’s the most pleasant part of my week—relieves stress and more importantly, lifts spirits.   I’ve learned not to be afraid to reach into myself.  The encouragement I receive here makes me want to continue yoga when I leave.”

“The class is fun and liberating.  I like the exercise, the people and the freedom.  I’ve discovered I’m more flexible than I thought.  And I’m more relaxed.  At the end of class I feel really good and full of energy.”

On Laughter Yoga at John J. Moran and Donald Price:

“This place is so negative.  Thank you for bringing something so positive here.”

“I’ve learned I can laugh for no reason.”

“I’ve been in prison three years and I’ve never witnessed anything as crazy as this!” 

I close with this last quote because it has been a special privilege to bring laughter into both Price and Moran.  There is something about a room full of big “scary” men jumping up and down like children, chanting “Very good, very good, Yea!” that is just about enough to bring me to tears.

Thanks to all for your interest and love.  And a very special thanks to those of you who, as “Outside-Yogis,” have offered your support for this transformational exploration by sponsoring a “Yogi-Inmate.”  This support has indeed moved me to tears multiple times.

(If this work is new to you and/or you are interested in becoming an “Outside-Yogi,” please visit the Yogi-Inmate Collaborative page at The Center of Joy.)