Thread by @hahnscratch

Today is my freedomversary. 9 years ago, I came home from prison. Some reflections...

On February 8th 2012, I was in fire camp sitting on a park bench, watching the sun set. It was the last time the sun would set on my incarceration and I knew that, the next time I saw the sun, I’d be free.

People usually paroled mid-morning from fire camp. I requested and was granted permission to parole at the strike of midnight on my date. I’ll never forget watching the clock strike midnight and then seeing my parents’ headlights pulling into the parking lot.

I always imagined I would cry the moment I was set free. I used to cry thinking about the moment it would happen. But it didn’t. I walked out of the camp office more nervous than anything else. It was a confusing feeling.

I’d been a clerk for 3 years & had worked near the guards. The officer that night wished me well as I walked out the door. He shook my hand, thanked me for the work I’d done, & told me I’d changed a lot of his opinions. He even called me his friend, which was awkward.

It had been nearly twenty years since I’d last been in a car with both of my parents (because of divorce). But we all drove together, through the night, from Los Angeles to the Bay Area. It reminded me of my days as a child when we’d all drive to visit family in San Diego.

We stopped for food somewhere on I-5. It might’ve been a Denny’s. I know this is shocking to most people, but I don’t actually remember what I ate for my first meal after prison. It might’ve been a hamburger.

When we arrived home it was still early morning and dark, just as it is now. I hadn’t slept in more than 24 hours. I needed to rest but I also wanted to watch the sun rise.

I napped for an hour or two and then woke up. I had a coffee and stepped outside in order to watch the sun rise on my new life. And then I cried. Softly. To myself. Outside in the cold. The sun was red and magnificent.

That first day home, February 9th, 2012 was filled with a lot of busy work. Getting clothes. Opening a bank account. Setting up a place to sleep at my friends’ house. I didn’t want my parole address to me in my home town... because cops.

That night I met my AA sponsor and went to a men’s meeting. I was asked to speak. I was terrified and I don’t clearly remember what I said to that room of a hundred men. Whatever it was, they embraced me at the close of the meeting.

And now I’m crying as I write this.

A lot has happened since coming home from prison. I was accepted into UC Berkeley and graduated in 2013 with a 4.0. I met my wife just 60 days after paroling. I was discharged from parole after 16 months, despite being high control.

I’ve travelled around the US, to Mexico, to Costa Rica, to Hawai’i, to Nepal, to India, and to Myanamar. I joined a trade union and entered a 5 year apprenticeship, being certified as a journeyman last October.

I’ve stayed sober. Started recovery and meditation groups. Helped write the basic text for a new recovery program. I’ve taught meditation to men in jail and will continue to do so.

I’ve sat many, many silent meditation retreats and studied with Dharma teachers. I’m currently training to become a Dharma teacher myself, with ordination coming sometime next year.

Last year, my wife and I bought a home in San Jose - something I didn’t think would ever be possible given my history and how expensive it is to live in the Bay Area.

And those are all good things. Through all that, the suffering of life moves along. Friends and family have died. Suicide. Natural causes. Recklessness. 8 family members have passed away from Covid just in the last 10 months.

But I persist. I don’t think life would be as beautiful today if it weren’t experienced in contrast to the ugliness.

Today, I celebrate freedom. Not freedom in the the American sense, which means to “do what I want”. I no longer care to do what I want. Rather, I celebrate the freedom to do what is good despite what I want. Oftentimes what I want and what is good align, but not always.

And that’s all I have to say about that. It’s time to get to work. I appreciate you and all the people who have loved and supported me along the way.

One more thing: this anniversary seems to have more emotional gravity each year. I think this is because, with each year that passes, I have that much more in my life to be grateful for.