Katie LaRoche

Where Does Energy Come From Anyway?

14 Oct 2011 2 Comments

by Katie LaRoche in Uncategorized

Throughout our stay in Belize taxis and buses took us across the country to talk shows, news stations, primary and secondary schools, junior colleges, the University of Belize, and to programs designed for at-risk girls.  We had the opportunity to meet the prime minister’s wife, ride with the U.S. Ambassador to an event at the U.S. Embassy recognizing the organizations leading the fight against HIV/AIDS, and to meet with a women working for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to discuss the legislative initiative that the country is taking to combat human trafficking.  Of all of the experiences within this country there is one that is lingering in my mind with a bit more noise than the rest…  It may have been the presentation in the prison that struck the deepest chord.  There is only one prison/jail in Belize, it is the place for minor offences as well as those requiring maximum security, and it houses the juveniles, the women, and the men.

 

October 4^th, 2011 ( A recap of the day at the prison)

 

It is a hot and humid Belizean day and walking into the prison I, as usual, have little idea of what to expect.  A brief introduction to the deputy chief of security is given and the tour begins.  ‘Thank you for coming to visit us” the deputy says with sincerity as we pass security who is shifting through boxes of cereal to be sure the care packages sent to the prisoners do not contain any special ‘extras.’ “I am going to take you over to the area where we keep our juveniles, our young men.  Some of them have committed double murder.” There is a certain weight that comes with that kind of knowledge.   “Double murder,” he repeats looking back to make sure that we get it.  “We will have you say a few words of encouragement to them. Come this way.”   This is when my internal dialogue begins, “What do I know about what it is like to be a young boy locked in a prison? These Kids have killed… have are facing a life that I do not know or understand.”

 

As I stand in front of the room the voice begins to shift.  “They are just kids, they are human, you are human and that you have in common.  Nothing more is needed.”  I can hear the thoughts of the boys swirling around in my head “She is from the United States of America.  She has everything.  We have nothing.  Why is she here?”  To that I begin to speak.  “There are many misconceptions of what it is like to be from the U.S.  Some have this idea that life in the States is easy, almost perfect, and it is not.”  An elaboration begins on the parallels of the difficulties in their country and mine, of personal experiences and hardships, of choice, learning from the past, violence against women, shifting perspective… They have faced so much in their young life.  It isn’t hard to feel the pain in the room.

 

The presentation is over and leaving the room I begin to recognize that exhaustion had crept in without my knowing.   My body takes in a deep breath as Emerson happily states, “That was wonderful! Now we will take you to say something nice and encouraging to the women.  Yes, something nice and encouraging for them as well.”  Digesting his words I find myself visiting that “empty tank” space that is not so unfamiliar.  “This is too much,” my head says. “I have nothing left to give in this moment,” and through the doors we walk. The introductions are made and once again the words begin, with uncertainty of what is about to come out.  The topic quickly shifts to Pratipakha Bhavanam, a phrase I have come to understand as taking sorrow and turning it into joy, the idea of shifting a seemingly negative experience and using it as a tool to create good.  We talk about experiences serving as a source of power and the reality of the fact that they, as individuals, are powerful because of what they had been through in their lifetime.  Many shake their heads in agreement and a few begin to cry while nodding, The youngest in the room catches my eye many times and as I smile at her, she sweetly smiles back, a genuine smile of strength.  Our two worlds connect.   One woman asks “Why are you doing this work?  Why are you here?”  An explanation comes out, “In the lens through which my eyes see this life, you are my sisters.” This is the truth.  As the words are said I feel them open and soften just a bit more… just enough.

 

It is my belief that black, white, purple, man, woman, the list goes one… are just words to define something that is not real and actually insignificant when placed in comparison to the importance of understanding that for us to continue to co-exist on this planet we must learn to care for each other.  It is my hope that some day we will all understand the light which lies within us all and our ability to use that light stop what hurts and destroys, even on the most subtle of levels.  Until that day that this seed of understanding grows into something real the weapons of mass destruction will continue to strengthen, globalization will ensue and this thing we have come to name “evil” will hold its unnecessary role on our planet.

 

In the end I was sad to leave that room of women and walked away with no sense of fatigue.  There was plenty of energy left from the start; it just had to be found.  There is a pattern that my heart has recognized in that it can often be at the point of exhaustion where we find great clarity and our best work finally has an opportunity to surface.

 

Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.~Albert Einstein