#6 Pork Fried Rice and Shrimp

I spent the day with Abby and Stella (not their real names), two of the women I spent my "time" with at Coffee Creek. I drove to Salem to meet them for lunch. We all piled into Ruby and made our way to the Chinese restaurant (one of Stella's favorites) across from the Rite Aid in downtown Salem. Conversation about the details and events of our lives spilled out across the table holding fried rice, steamed vegetables, fried shrimp, teriyaki chicken and chop suey. Three women, three different paths, the same pursuit -- liberation from limitations and re-connecting with the fullness of life, love and wisdom that is overflowing inside of each of them.

We talked about recovery, treatment, sweat lodges, silent retreats, trips to Montana and parenting teenagers. Abby grew up on the reservation in Montana. She lost her parents at age 13 and raised her brother and sister on her own. She looked for solace in drugs and crime and then the dam broke and she found herself in prison. She is a mischievous delight with the driest sense of Native humor I've ever encountered. "Anakha," she says, with a sparkle in her eye, "what is it you are doing now, what's this book you are writing about anyway?" She invites me to come to her talking circle in a couple of weeks to help the women begin their healing journey. "It's hard to start your healing, Anakha," she says quietly. Yes Abby, I know, I remember how you began.

Stella is quiet today not as exuberant as usual, humbled I sense, by surrendering to her life as it is right now and walking in moment to moment awareness as she moves forward towards the fullness and promise of her future. Her vivaciousness and charisma shine through with a gentleness I haven't witnessed in her before. We wander through the isles at Rite Aid laughing and talking together, in search of chocolate for Anakha. Where are those Hershey kisses...they have to be here somewhere. We end up at the counter with a bag of Laffy Taffy, a liter of Pepsi, two bottles of Dasani water, one pair of size M leopard-print slippers for Abby and a bag of Hershey's kisses. We pile back into the car and head for Bush's Park. We sprawl out on the grass in the sunshine with our party supplies and continue to share and enjoy just being together again -- unencumbered by prison rules and the watchful eyes of the officers.

They tell me that their time in class with me was the best recovery they have ever had. They tell me about not going deep enough in their recovery programs on the "outside" and how they now know that you have to touch the wound, open it and expose it to the Light for true healing to begin. They know the dive, they know the submersion and they know how to surface again.

I love these women. They are my teachers. They are my soul sisters. They connect me to what is real. They strip me of my self-importance and connect me to humility and to gratitude. They connect me to the universality of the human experience and how we are all really the same, just different packaging. They remind me of the extraordinary in the ordinary. My heart is full, supple and open and I have been deeply nourished by our connection today. I hope that in some way my belief in them and my love for them nourished them too.

I stop at the mailbox on my way up the hill and find a letter from Anahata, another one of "my girls" who is still at Coffee Creek. After 7 1/2 years in prison, she will be releasing on October 11th at the age of 26. We took her measurements last week for an outfit for her to parole in. She is excited and anxious. In just a 2 weeks she will be entering a whole new world, a brand new chapter -- a radical departure from the life she has lived within the prison walls. She has used her time well and has a full Buddhist mediation practice, yoga practice and has completed treatment among many other things. She is one of the most amazing and loving and powerful women I know on the planet today. She sends me this Rumi poem written on the outside of the envelope:

If the beloved is everywhere
the lover is a veil,
but when living itself
becomes the friend,
lovers disappear.

These women, their stories, their courage and their perseverance are a guiding light, a flaming torch in my life. I am forever in awe of their grace and their grit and their ability to live and to thrive amidst challenge. Words cannot express my gratitude for their presence in my life.

Their story is my story. Their salvation is my salvation. We are woven into one another's souls. And for this blessing, I bow down and kiss the ground of the One who directs and orders these holy assignments to free ourselves by freeing another.

I love you Abby, Stella, Anahata and all of you (and yes, this includes you too, "the one who found her voice and uses it.") who remind me by your living and your thriving that my life has been worth living.

Forever humbled in love,
Anakha