and now I'm watching the white fluffy clouds floating behind the mountain silhouette, with bright New Mexico blue accentuating (or being accentuated by) them. I miss this, but I don't miss the boredom. The last two days were very snowy, and I wanted nothing to do with the roads. In fact, I made a break Thursday afternoon, in between blasts, when the pavement was dry. There were several inches of snow in Taos, and the University was closed Mon, Thu, and Fri last week. Interestingly enough, they don't tend to close the campus when the sun goes down and we night workers have to drive home in sleet and ice. But, if there is snow falling in the morning, they close up. The weather usually calms by noon, and the roads are fine by 1. That was the case on Thursday.
However, once I got to Cerrillos, the snow took over,
and there was nothing to do. I built a fire in the casita on Friday (and totally smoked the place out). We spent the afternoon doing crosswords and reading and basking by the fire, and we made dinner (pasta with olives and tomatoes and garlic, chicken pounded with chopped nuts and fried in garlic and olive oil, with capers and lemon juice added, salad made by E.) And by 8 pm I was long past ready for bed. Same thing on Saturday. I chopped kindling for the casita and C/M's pod, and that was about it. I was in bed by 7, and cancelled my 10 pm tutoring session. C called me, and talked, talked, talked, and I kept nodding off, and he kept saying "K? are you there? are you awake?" and I'd mumble, yeah.
What is it about this place that makes me want to sleep, sleep, sleep?
I guess that's why I didn't accomplish much during the 18 months I lived here. I focused on domestic activities, doing Tai Chi Chih, walking (with and without E), shopping, cooking. I read, took pix, practiced some music. But the pace was very slow, and I didn't really do much except heal. Now that I'm back in the swing of DOING things (even though it's still not much), I'm aware of how little happens here. No wonder E feels like her life has halted. No wonder she wants to return to the more active lifestyle she used to have.
I think about my friend SC, who is in prison for the next 8 years. She calls me regularly (since I can't call her and we can't e-mail), and her life is boredom personified. She's read 20 books in the 3 months that she's been in. She has several books of her own in process, but she has to pay for paper and pen and can't use a computer, so that's a slow process. In fact, the whole system is set up to actively discourage any productive or creative activity, and to destroy any connections with the outside world. It seems counter-productive to me, although I guess the idea is to make it so unpleasant no one will want to come back. But, recidivism is rampant, and I think it's because the system slaps down the impulse to improve one's life. So, it's difficult for anyone to acquire the skills that will take her someplace positive when she leaves the system.
In fact, since it's a for-profit agency, the prisoners are exploited. They have to buy the necessities, and many of those necessities are "out of stock." For example, my friend still has no washcloth: she uses her underwear. We can't send her paper or stamps or warm sweaters. We can put money in her account, and get charged an extra $7 per transaction for the privilege. If we want her to call us, she has to queue up for the phone, and we have to put money in that account, too. Often, when we are talking, the call is interrupted: a random lockdown on the holiday, a call for her to meet with someone, and one bizarre time when the monitor thought I had initiated a third party call. (I hadn't.) Even when things go well, the calls are restricted to 20 minutes, and if we want to continue talking, she has to call again. There are TV's but no sound: she has to buy a radio and earplugs to get that, and guess what? it's out of stock.
She is feeling a little more productive now, because she finally got a job sewing, which is a step up from sweeping the "pod." She gets 20 cents an hour, with the chance of increasing to $1.20. This would be outrageous in any other society, but I guess she should be glad she doesn't have to pay for her room and board as well as her necessities and communication needs. And, there's the possibility of another job that will give her access to a computer. Woo hoo!
So, I think about her situation, and I wonder how she is managing to keep her spirit, her sense of humor, and her creativity. Even setting aside the reason she is there and the legal fight for which she is gearing up, she has plenty of cause for depression in the institutional boredom. I look at her and marvel. Could I do the same? I don't have any reason to fall prey to boredom in my situation: I am free to walk outside, to take pictures, to write, to work at a good job, to see my friends. I can surround myself with beauty. I can make music. I can cook a healthy meal. She has none of this, but she continues to take her meager possessions and make the most of them. The other day, she concocted a foot scrub out of food bits (I can't recall the details.) In other words, she is not just surviving, she is thriving. I wish I could say the same for myself. But even now that I'm off the mountain, working a 40-hour week and building community, I don't seem to have the drive to create. I am so tired.
Have I created a prison?
No comments:
Post a Comment