In A Holding Cel

DON'T MISS SHIT
U don't have to miss
because U R doing
something that feeds that
which takes away UR power.
birds of a feather flock together (right?),
so, B the bird U want to B
and those who are 2
will B there right
there with you.
maybe,
not
?

I was reminded by John Carlos about, "just showing up" as being the most important thing you can ever do.  If you are there, you are given the opportunity to be a part of the experience.  Even if you are not "there" be where you are, and the opportunity to experience the life you are creating has a chance.  Do everything you can to be where you think you want to be -- where you think you need to be -- and then let it go.  And just experience what is.

I was sitting in a holding cel in the North Las Vegas Detention Center on 13 September 2008.  I missed the 2008 September Strip Peace Walk memorializing the moment on 11 September our whole world reached critical mass for the change that we now see as clear as day.  It was, for me, a very important walk because it brought together all the sides for one common reason, re-member-ing. 

And, from each group we outreached to be a part of the Walk -- from the Support The Troops (the "flag wavers") and Veterans groups to the 9-11 Truth Out to everyone in between -- they were going to each lead a part of the walk from the Statue of Liberty to our Federal Building, showing solidarity that no matter where we are in our beliefs concerning 11 September, we remember together and we will go forward from there -- having come together for that time in a unifying singular purpose.

September 13 was about building a "more perfect union" based on a deep impacting event that hit our nation -- our world.  While I sat in the cel, pacing as I did that day, I tried so hard to understand what was going on -- why I was there -- in that holding cel rather than experiencing that walk.  There was, that day, no real answer or explanation in my head.

But, today, the answer to that changes every day because there is no one reason why anything happens.

Any given experience of the individual is the result of the interaction between the choices of the individual and everyone else on the planet in that moment.  When we experience a homeless person and feel whatever it is we feel, that is the same connection.  Whether you are strangers or intimates, your choices have the same connection to the continuum of life that is experienced by everyone, every day.  The impact of your choices vary, obviously, on those most closely to you with those half-a-world away, but the connection is always the same.

Everything we create and experience creates our world, together.  And, we do what we do, ultimately for one reason:  the survival our species.  Sure, we can go to the ego and say all our personal reasons for doing any one thing, but underneath all that it is about our collective survival -- our children.

Protect our children -- all of them.  Plan for the future -- for all of them.  Be with them -- all of them.  They are never not our children, our future, our only hope, our survival.  Love them without prejudice.

discriminate = hate = violence = death.

love = love.

K.I.S.S., for us blondes!

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'

Most People In Jail Belong There,

present company included, because of some stupid mistake they made.

OR DO THEY?  DO I?  I spent many an afternoon, evening, morning, middle of the night, laying down staring at a white wall or white ceiling, wondering why we jail people for making mistakes?

Think about the last mistake you made and what if your entire life was turned upside down because now you had to take a 4 month hiatus from your life in the next instant.

Because, that's how fast if could happen.

Think about it for a bit.

Everything and

Everyone

Gone.

It makes you definitely think about all that you do in this moment a bit more critically, doesn't it.  And, I did a lot of that in jail -- criticizing that is.  I have notebooks full of papers with lots of words about everything that happened to me and criticizing everyone for why i was in jail.  But, the truth was, i was in jail and no one but me controlled that -- well, i'm sure that [insert Enemy X here] would like to think they had a part in it --  but, i was the one sitting there, and i knew it was, ultimately, my choice to be there. 

The reflection on those thoughts are very different  today than it was during week 3 or even 14.  I could have walked away from it all.  I was given several opportunities to do just that.  But if you walk away from every opportunity for experience because of fear of the consequences, well, you walk away.  Life can be found while walking away, but I think I discovered I'm a "just walk into it" kinda girl!

" Determination (or persistence) --
doing the same thing over and over again
expecting things to change.  B) "

As, always, there is the possibility that i have it backwards.

There are days that can never happen again.

Know that today is one of them.

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'

WARNING: a bad curse word below . . . B)

" Determination (or persistence) --
doing the same thing over and over again
expecting things to change.  B) "

in jail, my first room (or cel), had a great view of the plaza hotel and casino.  everyday i could sit on my bunk and i was almost able to watch the sun set behind the mountains through the dirt frosted window.  but every evening, right at that place where the sun is about to hit the top of the mountains, the view was cut off by a parking garage.

instead, my sensory highlight of the evening was watching the plaza's brilliant lights flash on every night at a time that never seemed the same, but in reality, probably was.  the second 'a' on the hotel tower's marquee was out.  that, of course, changed the "plaza" into the "plaz" . . . which allowed me to think about Plas Johnson, the saxophone player who blew out the classic theme song to The Pink Panther.  which thought, of course, led me to think about how i even know who Plas Johnson is, and that reminded me of my husband.  and, of course, in the next nanosecond, my daughter joins him there in my head.

'fuck!'
(yes, mom, cover your ears/eyes if you have to at this point in our lives)
• • •
'why am i here?'

i like to think that i'm a reasonably smart idealist.  i mean, i know not to mix chlorine and ammonia and that oil and water do not mix unless you add a whole lot of chemicals to them, and then its probably best to not consume that.  i'm at least as smart as the average bear, so why am i sitting here, looking at the plaza hotel's sign light up and finding songs in my head that match the rhythm of the casino's fountaining lights?

and the plaza is there in all its glory, so famed now thanks to Stephen King, which thought naturally leads me to one of the best things about my jail experience:  the books.  novels, even!  one afternoon i contemplated on when i stopped reading for the sheer pleasure of it.  it just kind of happened and i decided that at some point i must have switched to tv, probably thinking (or not!), it IS sitting right there AND the remote control is in my hand.  control, nice.

i watched my first episode of 'American Idol' one evening in jail -- that was high rent free time.  that's  the night i learned the myth of true value of snickers and red hot cheetos is to be believed, AND how to make a jailhouse tamale with top ramen noodles, those red hot cheetos and/or doritos, a little nacho "cheese" sauce if you have it, and a little water (hold the 'slim jim' for us vegetarians, please).

which brings me back to my point, why was i in jail?  i know, for today, why i was in jail:  to understand freedom, and to allow my mind the freedom to float like this whenever it wanted, and get used to that feeling again.  you remember that, don't you, back when you actually allowed yourself to feel anything, and everything if u were curious enough.

"allowing my thoughts to flow,

they may just carry me

down the river i've

always wanted

to explore."

a snipet of a poem that encapsulates well, how i often feel about this whole experience.  i think i cried every night for the first 4 days.  after that, i only cried during the day.  i observed one of those unwritten rules, if you cried at night, you usually ended up either in the psych ward or in "the hole."

but, where i left off above really, was that of my family.  the thought that knocked the air out of me, and sent me reeling on tangents to avoid those feelings because sometimes those feelings just still hurt so much.  BUT, it is true, isn't it, that if you follow it, a string of thoughts will always remind you of what is THE most important thing in this world to you.  and, as it is with every living thing, it is always:  our children.

once you become a parent, it can never be anything different.

like all living things in nature, we, who will survive, will die for our babies to live, 4 months in jail ... this is part of my grand adventure called life.  this is what moms have done since the beginning of time to protect this species to continue to exist, thrive, grow and bloom, wither and die, to re-surrect once again in our posterity.  this is, really, nothing new at all.  (well, except that its happening to me!)

i didn't want pictures in jail . . . pictures remind me too much of what i am missing.  our little family is very blessed to have patterns of relationships that have always allowed separation in time and space, only usually its daddy off traveling for months.  this time, mom is gone.  our times of separation are times when we grow the most, this one has been no exception.  i knew what i needed to survive 4 months in jail with my spirit in tact, i had to keep myself busy and not dwell on my daughter with every breath of my being (unless i could do so without crying).

of course, my husband listens to me BUT my parents send me all kinds of pictures!

including this one of me and my sister.  by the way, she, in the floral print, IS the 'jan brady' in our family!

maybe i do have it all backwards or these are just "blahndwords" in a plastic patterned world.

there are days that are amazing.

know that today is one of them.

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'

Ooops, And I Call That "Persistence"!

today is day one of the conclusory third (or final 4 months) of a very strange year.

i wonder where lisa luzaich went to law schools some days.  she's a smart attorney, her ethics are, in my opinion, completely questionable . . . at least as far as I understand the ethics required and oaths taken when one becomes a lawyer.  it is definitely clear to me that she has a completely different understanding of the meanings of, at least, the oath of her "office" as an attorney and member of the bar and court.  if this is how she's allowed to act by her fellow attorneys, the state bar and the courts, there's no reason to not do what she did -- why not go with what you know, were taught, didn't question -- it makes life easy for you.

as i look in that mirror that everyone is reflecting back at me, i see a whole lot of myself in lisa luzaich.  maybe it was the schools we went to or something where our paths started taking tangential routes, who knows.  maybe her bar is closer to the truth than mine, i'm willing to entertain that notion as well.  maybe she is just a reflection of who i could have been and chose not to be, and so i can accept her despite her choices.

after all, that's what i want the world to do for me, right?

accept me as i am because of, despite of, or in spite of, my choices.

121 days.  how much is one day in YOUR life worth?  did you ever think about that?  quantify it in terms of value, which quantification we do so well -- we are so fast at quantifying and costing out collateral damage whether its one or 250,000 human lives. 

so, now, a reflection from jail.

" Determination (or persistence) --
doing the same thing over and over again
expecting things to change.  B) "

i was tired of being told that i was 'crazy' or 'insane' for making the choices that i made in the moment.  

i do not know the definition of 'cruel and unusual punishment,' but this is about the third week in a row that i have woken up depressed.  Ever since they took "Armstrong" away.  I never met her.  I only heard her.  She was in a cel on the lower tier.  She was often funny, playing with the officers to the amusement and enjoyment for everyone, including herself.  But the precarious edge where the genius in all of us resides, has a bit more of an edge in some, Armstrong's edge was very ragged.

i wonder still if she was truly psychologically that helpless or whether, she understood everything and was playing the game she found herself in, and was finding the only way of making it interesting for herself.  Too bad she likely wasn't given too many options or ideas -- or, most likely, those options and ideas were quickly quashed in her by those who 'knew better' -- when she was a child.

if i ever hear about Armstrong again, and its not good news, i have my notes from my time in jail with her, and they are none to supportive of the way she was treated in jail.  but, i already filled out a form and turned it in to the lieutenant on my next to my last day -- that 120th day -- its on someone else to pick-up that ball if its going to be.  did i tell you i had to spend an extra day in jail? 

yep, how much is that day worth you reckon?  if its like one of those days, its worth a whole lot.  if it was a day like it should have been, just another day, it wouldn't be worth as much.

or perhaps i have that backwards.

there are days that are priceless.

know that today is one of them.

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'

lingering asAHlts

Today is day 120.  Murphy's law is in full effect.  I was supposed to be released by now, yet here I sit.  Some unknown error with the court's order and some uncertainty that it really says and means, "release this woman after she has been here 120 days!"  The CCDC mantra rears its head, "For it to be right, it requires thinking ... this is what it is, and all it can be."

So, here I sit because someone is afraid to believe that is written, that I am, indeed to be released now.  That they are supposed to do what is written on the computer (they never lie do they?).  They do that, you know, release people who are not supposed to be released.  I saw it happen twice in my four month stay.  One was a working girl; she was back with us by the following weekend.  The other was in on a domestic violence charge, so she'll likely not cause you any problems unless you know her ... and then, likely, you know all about it.

Sometimes I scratch my head and just glaze over at the wonder of this whole thing, as I have experienced a little slice of life that most people only either glorify or vilify, each to immobilizing degrees.  An experience I never in my grandest imagination thought I would experience -- putting people in them, maybe.  Standing vigil protesting the death penalty, perhaps.  And, I learned the truth that we all already know:  Jail is exactly how people think it is -- as all reality is.

Jail is "a waiting place" that immobilizes the mind more than it could ever imprison a body.  Living a life in the cycle based on the glamour of the thug life -- and there is a glamour about it, a whole society and social standing, with the only glass ceiling being one that is injected by a needle or strapped to a buzzing chair -- the form of structure of which is initiated in our public schools with their methods of inmate or, rather, student "control," their jargon and the like.  If there are lines painted on the floors in the hallways of your child's school, and one can hear words like 'lock down,' your's is a school built on the structure of a jail. (josb!)

But, for most of us, the paralysis is completely self-inflicted.  And the fear of doing ANYTHING that could possibly result in jail, living a life so scared of the consequences of making a decision -- as some decisions, regardless of intent, can invariable and inexplicably be found to be defined as criminal in some statute on the books -- or not.  But, the truth is, if you're in jail, they can keep you here just because we have abdicated our authority, rights and freedoms and now our governmental system allows incarceration at their discretion ... and, if it can be, it will be sorted out later -- months or even years later.  (josb!)

I have no doubt, when the court opens in the morning, someone will use a brain cell, make a decision and release me, and I promise I won't even press charges against them for doing so!

* * *

It is now, officially, my 121st day in Clark County Detention Center.  Ahhh, the moment lingers.

* * *

But, as the truth be told, it was I who was lingering.  Be VERY VERY careful what you say to the universe.

I had several writing deadlines I set for myself -- all extraordinarily ambitious because, of course, I'm going to have all this "free" time to just write (LOL!) ... anyway, there was my "mom, talk me a story" stories that I had to finish -- at least that little short story for my daughter the next time she asked me to 'talk her a story,' I could give it to her, and say, "here, go read it for yourself!"  jk, s!  That was the one I knew I could finish, should finish ... "or don't bother calling yourself a writer!"

YIKES!  My lips, my words, out loud to no one one but me, myself and I after I moved into my cel in protective custody.  Surely with all this solitude, aloneness, no distractions, I can and will write!

Of course, I kept putting it off, and putting it off.  And, it wasn't like I didn't know what I was going to write.  I had crafted the ending in my mind and knew what I had to write.  When packing everything up, I put it in there, thinking to myself, "I'll wait and type it at home, its so much faster than writing with these pencils."

I even read another entire Sue Grafton book as I lay on my cot, unable to sleep as the sun came up, then breakfast, then comes "free time" with the girls.  I'm in the day room, watching and listening to all the same things, I had to leave ... now!  After all I am not supposed to be here!

So, I tell everyone good-bye, sneak in one hug, and went back up to my room, voluntarily locking myself in my room, unable to get out again if I changed my mind to accept the freedom that was being offered to me.  I sat down, wrote my little blurb on the Grafton airplane book, then I unpacked my other writing projects, pulled out the story and wrote it out -- long hand.

I penciled "The End" and there was a knock on my door, it was opened ... "I thought u were ready to go!  Roll it up Clermont already.  Do you not want to go home?"  She laughed with me, this one did, as I repacked everything and told her, "Thank you, officer, for waiting for me.  But I could leave it all for someone else to clean up if I need to!"  And, she said the sweetest thing to me, "they're worse things they could do!"

She was one of three officers who shook my hand in four months.

peace & harmony,
elaine
'freedom must be exercised to stay in shape!'