Standing outside the East Gate of San Quentin Prison at 9:22 a.m. on November 16, I was shivering and impatient for my tour to start. I was dressed in all black because I wasn’t allowed to wear denim, gray, blue, lime green, or orange. I couldn’t bring any electronics or wear jewelry, either.
Along with several other business leaders in a group called Young Presidents’ Organization (YPO), I was getting checked in when one of our guides shouted excitedly. “The man coming out right now is being released after twenty-seven years in prison!” She motioned to a woman standing about 50 yards from us. “That’s his wife and she has been here since 5 a.m. waiting for him to come out.” The guide had barely finished her sentence when a van pulled through the gate and an officer guided out a man in a baggy, light-gray sweat suit. The guard removed his handcuffs. The man in gray walked toward his wife as she leaped toward him in giant ecstatic bounds, hands waving back and forth over her head, hooting in celebration. They kissed and hugged.
Our group was silent. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about how it might feel to be on this side of the wall after twenty-seven years of being confined.
During part of the prison tour, I listened to the stories of about a dozen men who went through a program called the Victim Offender Education Group (VOEG). During those conversations I sat next to a convicted murderer, our elbows touching. As he shared the sadness and regret he feels for the woman whose life he took, he cried. He also shared about his own childhood traumas and spoke about his hopes for the future. As I listened to the men’s stories, two things struck me.
The process they went through in the program - meeting consistently, for years, with a trusted circle of peers to bravely do deep work on themselves - is remarkably similar to the small group work we do in YPO in small groups of C-Suite executives.
I could easily be the one who is behind bars. I like to think that I’m nothing like the person who committed a violent act while in a rage or the one who chose to drive drunk and kill someone. But I have lost control in anger and I have done foolish things like texting when I was driving. Those situations could have ended in a disaster if I was less fortunate. I am left with the feeling that there is a thin wall between the outside and the inside of a prison. I feel lucky that I’m on the outside. And I admire the brave people inside who choose to do the work daily to become better versions of themselves. Their accountability reassures me, and their hope inspires me.
Please don’t hear this as me wanting to minimize the horrific pain caused by the violent choices people make. We can each decide, in every moment, how we will act. There is no explaining away decisions that harm others. My realization is just that I believe hope and growth can happen anywhere. I want to be humble like the men I met in the prison so I can experience it.
Earlier this month the Advice Column team shared some ideas for practicing gratitude during the month of Thanksgiving. In my household, we decided to fill out a sticky note each day with something we’re grateful for. The night I came home from San Quentin, my sticky note had just one word, “Freedom.”
| I hope this email finds you reveling in your freedom.
With love, Lisa
Speaker 1:
Standing outside the East gate of San Quentin prison at about 922 am on November 16th 2023. I was shivering and impatient for the tour to start. I was dressed in all black because I wasn't allowed to wear denim gray, blue, lime, green, orange, or it seemed like a bunch of other colors and I couldn't bring any electronics, wear jewelry, have a cell phone, have a watch, anything. Along with several other of the business leaders in a group I met called Young Presidents Organization, or YPO, I was getting checked in and then one of the guides shouted really excitedly the man coming out right now is being released after 27 years in prison. She motioned to this woman that was standing probably 50 yards in front of us and she said that's his wife. She's been here since 5 am waiting for him to come out. The guide hadn't really even finished telling us that when this van pulled through the gate and an officer got out and guided this man in a baggy, light gray sweatsuit out of out of the car and he removed his handcuffs. That man in gray walked toward his wife and she just started leaping and bounding toward him in these ecstatic bounds and her hands were waving back and forth and she was just hooting and celebrating and they kissed and hugged and our whole group was silent. Tears welled up in my eyes and I thought about how it might feel to be on that side of the wall after 27 years of being confined.
Speaker 1:
During part of the prison tour that we did, I listened to the stories of about 12 people who had gone through a program that they call the Victor offender victim offender education group I think Vogue, voeg and in those conversations I was sitting next to in the circle a convicted murderer. Our elbows were actually touching because the circle was so tight and as he shared the sadness and regret he feels for the woman whose life he took, he started crying and he also shared about his own childhood traumas and talked about what his hopes are for the future. I was sitting there listening to him and a couple of things struck me. Number one the process that those men went through in the program sitting in a circle and and doing deep work on themselves is really similar to what I do in the YPO group, which is made up of small groups of C-suite executives. It was so similar, it was really striking. The other thing is I thought about how I could easily be the one behind bars.
Speaker 1:
I like to think that I'm nothing like the person who commits a violent act when in a rage, but people were in there for driving drunk and killing someone. I mean, I've texted when I'm driving. It's terrible, but I have. I've gotten really anger angry and felt like I just lost control. So those situations could have ended in a disaster if I was less fortunate. And I feel like there's a very thin line between where they are and where I am, and I feel lucky that I'm on the outside.
Speaker 1:
I admire the brave people inside who are choosing to do that really hard work, even in a rough environment, to better themselves. Their accountability was really reassuring and inspiring and their sense of hope that they're maintaining it was also really, really impressive. So I don't want to make it sound like I'm minimizing the horrific pain that the violent choices that those people made caused to the victims and their families at all. For sure, we each get to decide in every moment how we will act and what we'll do with the way we're feeling. There's no explaining away decisions that harm others, but my realization is just that I've now seen and I believe very deeply that hope and growth can happen anywhere, whether inside a prison cell, in a meeting of C-suite executives, anywhere, and I really want to be more humble, like the men I met in the prison, so that I can experience more growth and healing.
Speaker 1:
Earlier this month, the advice column team shared some ideas for practicing gratitude during the month of Thanksgiving and at our house. We decided to do something where we would each, every day, each one of us would put a sticky note on the fridge with something that we're thankful for, and we decided to do it on the fridge, so it was like a central repository where we could see all of them. I might attach a email to I mean a photo to the email we'll send out this month, because it was kind of fun to see it. But the night that I got back from San Quentin prison, my sticky note just had one word freedom. I feel so grateful for my freedom and that experience of seeing people living behind bars really made me appreciate it. I hope that, as you listen to this, that you are really reveling in your freedom. I'm sending you all my love. Bye for now.