The prison staff, particularly the Warden and the “Chief Counselor” sought to make life miserable for us. They wanted to “break us”, destroy our will to live. It was a psychological game for them.
In 1980, I was locked down for “attempted escape” (an outright fabrication) and the guards tried to ‘cell’ us next to the most obnoxious prisoners possible. Among many other nasty things some staff enjoyed, Staff liked to stage ‘gladiatorial combat’ between prisoners. They laughed when prisoners were hurt; especially ones they didn’t like.
The long-term stress of dealing with all the inhumanities would make a sane man crazy. But I was strong and trusted God that I could deal with whatever “The Man” could throw at me. The only thing they could do to hurt “me” was to hurt my friend. They kept harassing us, and especially him. He was beat numerous times and we were separated over and over, which really hurt me. Once again, they rushed our cell and separated us. I became so angry, lonely and hurt by their ’psycho-torture’, I started threatening guards.
The Lieutenant and guards came to my cell and moved me to another cell. I walked into the other cell before I realized it was the cell of a psychotic prisoner who had urinated all over the cell. There was one dry spot in the cell and I was standing in it. I turned around to exit the cell and they slammed the door in my face. The guards all left but the Lieutenant stayed, laughing at me. His big alcoholic, purple vein-filled nose was changing to pink as he laughed. I told him gravely, “you have a choice. You can either get me out of the cell now, or wait a couple of years until I finally have the opportunity to bury a piece of steel in your chest.” He quit laughing, looked mean, then looked a little concerned....
They moved me out of the pissy cell into the “Segregation of Segregations”. The cell had three doors on it. It was the oldest cell in the joint. The inner & outer doors were ‘regular’ cell doors with bars, but the door sandwiched between them was a thick metal slab. The call was far removed from everybody and everything. No sound, no light, nothing. After awhile, I lost track of time and became dismal and disoriented. I didn’t know if it was day or night. To the world, I was less that dead. I didn’t even exist.
It was at this time I lost my will to live. Mind you, I didn’t want to die. I was not suicidal. It never occurred to me that I wanted to die, because I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t want to be here...losing the will to live is far different than wanting to die.
I paced back and forth in that cell, lonelier than I had ever, lonely far beyond tears or words (I literally felt like my friend had been hit and killed by a truck and I lost him forever). I lay down on the cement slab they called a bed, crossed my hands over my chest, closed my eyes…and it was then that my heart stopped beating. Yes, it stopped beating. Yes, my grief was so deep and intense, my will to live was erased and I started to die. Then I felt my spirit start to leave my body.
I was totally shocked when I realized what was happening! The words, “I ain’t letting these bastards beat me like this” went through my mind. I felt my spirit snap back into my body and my heart started beating again (in that order) and I jumped to my feet with new resolve to NEVER quit.
From this experience, several conclusion/lessons have come to me:
A) Material things no longer matter. Whatever they do to my belongings means nothing (the guards urinated on a Valentines’ Day card once), they could burn down my house and destroy every scrap of paper I own. It simply didn’t matter anymore.
B] It gave me insight into the part of the Bible where Christ is purported to have said, )He bowed his head and cried out), "God, into your hands I commend my spirit." Which brings me to,
C) the reason for this essay: I do not have to kill myself to die. I am here out of a daily choice. A razor blade isn’t needed, nor is a gun. I am totally free to live or die by virtue of WILL. This tells me I am ultimately responsible for my decisions of the will, and therefore for what leads up to my making good or bad decisions, that “decisions determine destiny”. Indeed, I am totally free to choose my destiny. Will I follow or cave to the evil one, or surrender my slavery to God?
God is love. I choose love daily. Total freedom to be all I can be. I turned my life and my will over to God, yet and free to take it back at any time (and do, sometimes). That’s the condemnation, the irreversible truth, that nothing prevents our freedom. Nothing ever has, nothing ever will. You can kill the body, but you can’t destroy my soul without my consent. I am done telling God how big my mountains are and tell my mountains how big God is. Intentionality links all subjects and objects into undiluted freedom, even to the point of participating in our own creation on a daily basis. LOVE...that’s the gift and the curse.
Hence, we are condemned to freedom.
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Interesting take on the
Jen
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