Tag: transformation

Posted on

Thanks

Selfie inside-out by Luis Del Valle. To see more of Luis’s art and learn more about him visit: https://www.lovehopeart.com/

Midway through the walk from Allison Park to the George Washington Bridge there is a pair of benches that overlook the Hudson River, one facing South to the city, the other towards the Bronx. They are usually occupied, but on a recent Saturday during a gentle rain I found them free and decided to stop. That’s when I discovered that a graffiti artist had been there before me.

I’ve never cared for graffiti in nature. But on graffiti in general my thoughts have run the gamut over the years from detesting it to a desire to understand it to outright appreciation in some cases. Was that “Thanks” written on the lower right corner of the Bronx bench? No, on closer inspection it was an indecipherable word.

I continued my walk, the graffiti taking me on another walk in my mind. Years ago, I met a graffiti artist when he was painting a mural on a bridge in my neighborhood. At the time, I was writing a column called “Meet Your Neighbor” for DC North, a community paper in Washington, DC. I asked Luis if we could talk.

Luis’s family fled Nicaragua during the Contra war and eventually made their way to DC where, in the early-90s, a different sort of violence was taking place. Addicts, dealers, and gangs were prevalent in Luis’s neighborhood. When we met, he had resisted the pressure to join a gang and personally knew eight people who had been killed that year. At the same time, Luis was being pulled more deeply into art. A teacher recognized his talent and got him into the Corcoran School of Art. Less than a mile from where he lived, he told me he found a whole world he never knew existed. A mentor there encouraged him. Now a successful artist with his own family, he is active in his community and teaches young artists.

We each have so much power. With it comes opportunities to sow hope, foster growth, possibly change the trajectory of a life. Reflecting on Luis’s story, I remembered some of the people who altered my path, including the man who gave me the column that allowed me to interview Luis.

I thought about circling back to take a picture of the Bronx bench so I could decipher that word in the corner, but I decided it was better to remember my first impression. And when I got home, I took a lipstick that doesn’t get much play these days and scrawled my own graffiti across the bathroom mirror: “Thanks”.

Posted on

I See You

Many of John Kingham’s words give me pause. We live in vastly different worlds, he and I; John is an inmate locked up in Florida, while I am living freely in New Jersey, too often taking for granted the privileges that come with my freedom.

I was first introduced to John when he wrote to Sister Sheila about Living Peace, among other things. He is a subscriber to Living Peace through Sisters Janet and Rosalie, mentors and companions to him. I shared that first letter to Sister Sheila with the Living Peace editorial board, and we decided to invite John to write an article about his experience of starting a Zen sangha in prison.

When I sent him the proof copy of his article, he wrote back to tell me how excited he was to see his words in print. He was grateful for the opportunity to be heard, mentioning in a matter-of-fact, not complaining way, that life in prison reduced one to a dehumanizing anonymity where the inmate is not heard, seen or noted. “One of the more potent insults is I don’t see you.”

I received that letter just a few days after the eclipse. Someone I was watching with commented on how that event was so uplifting and unifying here in the States. Indeed, while nature is screaming her pain through hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, droughts and wildfires, her beauty and rhythms go on (so far) in spite of our abuse. Apart from being a spectacular natural event, the eclipse was a reminder that the most important things–the sun, the moon, the stars, our essence, our center, our strength–cannot be taken from us.

I doubt John or his fellow inmates were out in the yard viewing the eclipse with a pair of special glasses.  But  it took a lot of dark hours locked away for him to shed light on his spirit and then learn how to stay centered in unforgiving circumstances.

It’s easy to forget about the populations we cannot see, convenient to judge or dismiss them. There is no requirement that we believe in the ability to transform, but so much that is worthwhile and gratifying is born of an effort to change or to help others do so. A heart permanently eclipsed by an inability to see might just be a heart in need of some special glasses.

You can read John’s article, “A Field of Future Buddhas Waiting to Bloom” in the latest issue of Living Peace.