Showing posts with label self esteem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self esteem. Show all posts

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Restringing Guitars and Young Men


            Fridays are my day at the local youth correctional facility.  In the morning, I work in their garden, helping young gardeners tend to their chickens, vegetable plots and herb gardens. 

            We plant, weed, water, and harvest, and then preserve and dry the results.  Most every week, we cook, enjoying the bounty of our work, and treating the young men to fresh, nutritious produce and the concept of healthy nutrition and living.

            The real gardening comes in our conversations, the camaraderie of young and older gardeners, working and learning together, truly being in community.   

            They are learning where food really comes from, and how to be invested in that process, being self sufficient and healthy.  The metaphor of the garden is not lost on them, as they work to become strong, healthy, productive farmers of their lives. 

            I also work with some of the young men individually, being the “surrogate parent” and being the visitor they need and wouldn’t have otherwise.  I’m the “family” who shows up with some baked goods or candy, and just visits for an hour.  Sometimes, we play games, but mainly, I just listen, offering the compassionate ear of the uncle or dad who is missing in their lives.

            I’m tender and kind to them, being the encouraging voice, the cheerleader, the supportive dad they wouldn’t otherwise have. 

            Today, one of my young men and I restrung one of the guitars there.  It is a “state” guitar, which means it’s the guitar that gets played by those who don’t have their own instrument.  The guitar is played a lot, and replacing the strings has become a regular task for me. 

The guitar gets loved to death, played hard by lonely, frustrated fingers pouring out the emotions of the neglected and abandoned, the incarcerated, the young men who have no other way of expressing themselves.  I’m like that guitar, a place where the emotions of these young men can have their voice, a willing ear, an appreciative audience for what they need to say. 

            My guy has had a rough year.  He’s one of the lucky ones, not serving a mandatory sentence, a guy who can walk out the door if he’s done all his treatment, completed high school and shown he can be a responsible young man.   

            He literally has the keys to the front gate, but the old voices keep telling him he’s worthless, and should be abandoned and left out for the trash man. 

            Like so many of the young men here, being responsible and healthy is a new experience, and the fear of going back into the world, and being around the family and friends who were a big part of the bad times that brought him here, is one huge scary nightmare of parole. 

            The thought of being successful in life is a new idea.  For most of their life, they’ve been told they are worthless, failures.  My job is to be a spark of encouragement, the mirror of their successes and self worth, to be the dad who believes in them and is proud of who they are becoming. 

            My job and the job of the guitar are a lot alike.

            My buddy has derailed himself a number of times here, despite all his good work. The old ways, the old voices still show up, beating him down with the whips of shame  and guilt, the indifference to the beauty of their young souls. 

            Today, though, he moved ahead.  He took the initiative and restrung the guitar, without much help from me.  With confidence, he completed the task, grinning as the new strings sang out their song in his confident fingers.  His eyes twinkled with pride as he showed others the work he had done. 

            We did more than restring an old, well-used guitar.  We restrung a young man and gave voice to the new, self-confident man now playing his songs, happy with what he’s done and who he’s becoming. 


--Neal Lemery, 12/9/2016

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Becoming Worthy of Himself: Reflections on the Master Gardeners’ Class at OYA.





            “Tim” is fully engaged. His hand flies up; he’s ready with the answer.  This newest Master Gardener apprentice shares his observations, his conclusions, and where we should go next with our work. He’s read and re-read the text, and answered the homework questions with confidence. 

            Today’s topic in our Master Gardeners’ class is soils. Our teacher gets into it quickly, leading us through the various dimensions, the biology, the chemistry, the geology, and the mystery of it all. And Tim is in the middle of it, soaking it up, loving the complexity, and engaging in the thinking our teacher is calling us to do.  His mental wheels are turning fast.

            I’m Tim’s mentor, and today, a tutor, a teacher’s aide.  My work is easy, a few words of encouragement, an occasional observation.  I sit back and just enjoy him for who he has become. 

            A few years ago, he was lost.  He’d done his required work in the youth prison, even finishing high school and then helping others.  But, nothing fired up his passion, and life here was becoming just a matter of serving out the rest of his sentence.

            Then, he discovered the garden, and the mystery of cultivating that is the joy and the passion of gardening.  Wonderful things happened here, and he could be a part of that.  He could be the magician and the scientist, the expert on various bugs and herbs, growing into a nurturer and a teacher.  Tim was becoming the plant, sending out roots, spreading his leaves, and thriving in this newly discovered soil in his life. 

            Knowledge and the ability to be a part of the wonders of nurturing life, and exploring the unlimited world of plants and bugs touched his heart.  He belonged in this work, and it fed his soul.

            Now, the Master Gardeners class is his focus, and he has embraced it with everything in his being.  He is in the midst of this class of questioners, deep thinkers in the ever expanding world of common, every day dirt. 

            I help him work through the math formulas and problems for the fertilizer questions. I watch him realize that the dull, abstract work in his math classes is nothing like the excitement of learning how best to fertilize his garden, and make his plants grow. 

            “This is fun,” he says.

            He laughs then, shaking his head.

            “I never thought I’d say that math problems are fun.”

            We look at the slides of plants with various deficiencies from their soil, and talk about how to correct that, improving the plants by improving the soil and the nutrients, applying our newly found knowledge and thinking.  He is becoming the botanist, the chemist, the scientist, the better lover of life itself. 

            He smiles, he scribbles notes, he’s totally absorbed in what we are doing, and where this class is taking him. 

            Tomorrow, he’ll be out in the garden, working his magic, growing his roots, growing into a healthy, complete man. 

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” –E E Cummings.


--Neal Lemery 4/19/2016

Monday, March 21, 2016

Getting An Education


Letter to a Young Man Who Is Wondering If He Should Pursue His Education


            Ah, grad school.  Of course, the answer is YES. 

            Education is one of the few things in life that is truly yours, that stays with you throughout your life.  No one gets to steal it from you or tell you that you can’t have it, use it, and treasure it. 

            Developing your mind is one of the great opportunities a person has to truly grow and become what you potentially can be in life. 

            It is a lifelong journey, this education of one’s self.  I’m a lifelong learner, and have a burning curiosity about the world and everything that is in it.  And, part of that is learning about me, how I learn, how I think, how I see myself in this world.  And, who I am, who I have been, how I have been conditioned and trained to live.

            Sometimes, what I learn about myself isn’t all chocolate and roses, either.  I am flawed, imperfect, not who I think I am capable of being.  Well, good to know, so now I am challenged to improve myself, to change, and to become better, more of the person I can be.  More importantly, I can become the person I should be. 

            So, you haven’t done this before.  This challenge is new and different, and you have your doubts, your uncertainties. 

            Good, because that has also been true for you (and for me and for other thinking people) for every stage in our lives.  And, it will continue.  That doubting, uncertainty, is part of the growing process, part of the fuel that gets us out of bed in the morning, and ready to keep learning and growing. 

            Yesterday, C*** was talking about the chicks that are starting to hatch.  Hatching is an enormous struggle.  They have to do it on their own.  If they get help, then they likely die.  They have to turn themselves in the egg, positioning themselves in one end of the egg, by tucking their heads under their right wing, and making the move.  Then, they have to peck a hole in the shell, to take their first breath of air.  Slowly, they peck around a circle, so they have an opening to push themselves out of the shell and into the world. 

            It is hard work.  They are exhausted. But, now they can grow and achieve their destiny.

            We are like chicks.  We have to struggle, and the struggle often takes a long time.  We develop, we breathe, and we gain our strength.  Much of the work is done on our own. 

            In that work, we find that we really do have the stamina, the resiliency, the determination to accomplish something.  We own it.  It is ours, this work, this moving ahead in our lives. 

            Others think that you can do this work, that you are worthy of it.  You need to hear their voices and to realize that you are being supported and encouraged.  We all need that. 

            So much of this world is about relationship.  Yesterday, several of us in the garden had the opportunity to have a lesson on “please and thank you”.  One youth didn’t think it was important, that he could just ask for something, and he’d get that, without those “unnecessary words”.  Yet, those words are part of the relationship, the social contract we need to have in society to get things done and to interrelate with other people. 

            Grad school and the whole college experience is part of that process.  Working together, and finding the role for you that helps get things done, that brings out your own unique strengths and tools, which also need to fit with others’ strengths and tools.  The collective effort, the collective process.

            “College” means a collaboration, a collective process. 

            You can have all the brains in the world, but if you can’t work with others, and communicate and interrelate, and collectively move forward with shared ideas and direction, then you are lost, and not very effective in life. 

            I think it’s important to have those college experiences where you interact and interrelate, where you collaborate.  So much of life is based on those skills and those experiences. 

            Your guitar lessons are more than music theory and getting better at a particular song or chord pattern or strumming pattern.  It is interaction, listening, responding, contributing, and collaborating. 

            One of the primary functions I serve when I come to OYA (the youth prison where I mentor youth) is to be a teacher of social skills. It is how to have coffee with someone, how to play cards, or talk.  It is how to repot a plant together, or analyze a plant pest.  Something more than the outwardly mundane task is going on. 

            I’m working as a judge again, part time, for a few months.  So much of that work is about diagnosing and healing relationships, and getting people to interact with each other in an efficient, healthy way.  The law is a tool for that, but the real work is the human interaction, where people can communicate in a productive, positive way.  In many ways, judging is trying to heal society and social interactions. 

            And, so is the work of the educated person, working in relationship, and being effective in that work.  Bringing people and ideas together, and developing solutions that are effective and meaningful.  There’s a lot of education going on.

            When I finished law school and the bar exam, I thought, well, my education is over with.  Ha!  That work had only just begun.  I continue to teach myself, to have others teach me, and for me to teach others. 

            Grad school is about honing those skills, sharpening your mind so that you are even a better teacher. 

            I don’t want you to finish grad school when you are still at OYA.  There’s the whole collaborative, collegial interaction process that you need to experience.  I want you to explore the swamp with your fellow students, and muck around together, collaborating, interacting, and learning about each other. 

            Yeah, you are great at learning theory and the technical stuff on line and in books.  But, I also want you to roll up your sleeves and interact with people like yourself, and really get to know each other, and have to work together, to collaborate.  Yes, to be “collegial”. 

            You worry about what you would do if you don’t get into grad school while you are at OYA, and “have a year and a half with nothing to do”. 

            Grad school can wait.  You are young.  If you don’t find the “perfect fit” for you now, then there are reasons for that, and there are more opportunities in the future.  And, your education isn’t miraculously done when you turn 25 either.  It is a lifelong journey. 

            In that year and a half, you can create other options, other opportunities.  You have a unique perspective, and you can teach others what you have learned, you can create new experiences for youth, and you can become a better researcher and writer. 

            You are also not limited in how many degrees you can get in your life, or skills that you develop and improve. 

            I took a year and a half off between college and law school.  That time gave me great experiences, and I became a better, more purposeful person.  That time made me a better lawyer, father and husband.  It was not “wasted” time.  I had a great job, which taught me so much about the world, and about myself.

            We all have choices.  We all have barriers.  We can all sabotage our own efforts and our own opportunities, because we think we are “not good enough”.  Yet, we have choices.  We can choose to see life as a barrier, or as an opportunity. 

            My brief time with your Aunt *** allowed me to hear her very clearly impart to you some great wisdom, including looking at this time in your life as a great opportunity, a time to really see your own potential and your own skills, and do something with all that. 

            You heard her say that, from her heart, and you took that message deep into your own heart.  Choose that message as your family legacy, and build something with it. 

            You are not wasting your time.  You are, in fact, doing great things to improve yourself and to expand your potential.  I hope you see that, and treasure all that for what it is—an enormous personal asset. 

            You know how to learn.  You know how to move ahead. You know many of your skills and talents, and you know how to gain more skills and talents.  Most people don’t know that, and the challenge of teaching others is to light that candle of passion and self curiosity, so that people can really see what potential they have.

            So many of your peers haven’t lit that bonfire for themselves.  They see the water glass of their lives as half empty, maybe even dry, rather than half full and having the potential of being a great flowing spring of water that will abundantly nourish their lives. 

            You’ve told me that one of your dreams is to make or raise a lot of money, so that others in prison can fully realize their dreams.  You are learning how to do that for yourself right now, so you really are researching how to implement your dream.  That is good work.  Be proud of that work, and that dream. 

            This is a good time in life for you, and you are in a good process and experience.  Enjoy it.   Enjoy the doubts, the barriers, the struggles.  There is no “bad outcome” in all of this.  It is part of the journey.

Respectfully,



Neal Lemery

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

On the Path of Life

                                    On the Path of Life   

It was an ordinary path: pavers on top of coarse sand, a nice basket weave pattern, edged by other, longer stones. The gray stones mirrored the sky, on this cold day, hardly noticeable to most everyone using it on the breaks between classes. 

            He’d wanted to do something special, and bring some beauty into this utilitarian place, adding his own special touch.

            We found some thyme plants in an herb bed.  They’d done well this past year, and the little rooted new plants in that tangle of pungent leaves and stems came out of the dirt easily.  Today, his idea was happening; it was time to start.

            He told me what he wanted, a little plant in each sandy triangle, where the pavers came to the edge of the path.

            “Don’t we need more dirt?” he asked.

            I didn’t think so.  Thyme grew well in harsh conditions, and the roots still had soil attached, the sand along the path wasn’t’ very deep, and was laid on top of the dirt of the old lawn, before it became a path. 

            “It’s tough stuff, grown from hardy plants which can survive summer heat, drought, and getting stepped on,” I said.  “Just like you.”

            He grinned and nodded. 

            We had talked about his life, the chaos before he came here, how he endured fists and drunken rages, his soul battered by neglect and abuse, how he learned to hurt others, and ended up here. 

            “I’m doing great here,” he told me.  “Best place I’ve ever been.”

            This is prison, I thought.  There’s a tall fence, with barbed wire, not a hundred feet away.  Guards roam and surveillance cameras look down on our path, where we’re setting in our little thyme plants, giving them and the young men here a fresh start in what looks like a tough place to grow. 

            He nodded at me, looking deep into my eyes.

            “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Me saying prison is the best place I’ve lived.”

            “But, you know, this is the first place I’ve felt safe, where I’ve been able to go to school every day, and get some good help on growing up, becoming a man,” he said. 

            There had been a neighbor, and a kind teacher in his life, people who’d taken an interest in him, feeding him dinner and giving him a couch to spend the night on when things at home got crazier than usual. 

            “They gave me hope,” he said. “A sense of feeling that I was worth something, that I could change my life, if I wanted to.”

            He’d never forgotten them, and the idea that he was, deep down, a good guy, someone who could move ahead and be someone who was decent and kind.

            We kept planting the little plants, each of us taking an edge of the path, working our way down to the other end, side by side.  

            The late winter sun took the chill out of the air, and we paused to take off our sweatshirts.  A few drops of sweat ran down our faces, and we laughed about working up a sweat on this February day. 

            “It feels good to laugh,” he said. 

            I agreed, telling him I was admiring his project, that we were making the pathway a refuge from the daily routine.

            “The rest of the guys, they’ll enjoy the path more,” I said.  “They’ll notice the plants and smell the thyme, and they’ll have a moment of beauty in their lives as they walk along here.”

            “Yeah,” he said.  “I’d thought about that, when I came up with this idea, and ran it by the garden teacher. She thought it was a great idea.”

            “Even if the guys don’t say something about the path, it will still be part of their lives, part of their experience here,” he said.

            This path, and the beauty he’s creating here, will also be part of his life, I told him.  He was making a difference, changing lives, and teaching people about love. 

            We’d come to the end of the path, and paused, letting our muscles stretch and the sweat on our faces dry.  We stood up, looking back, taking in all the new plants, and how the path looked different now, with its new design of green among the pavers, the faint smell of thyme fresh in my nose. 

            “You are a creator, making this corner of the world just a little better place to live and grow in,” I said.

            “Thanks for doing this, for being an artist and brightening up this path for everyone,” I said. 

            “Thanks for helping out,” he said. “And for being a friend.”

            He got quiet, looking down at the path, and the work we’d done this morning. 

            “It’s everything I’d hoped for,” he said. 



---Neal Lemery 2/23/2016