In the summer of 2002 Nancy Coker from Headquarters contacted us. She had been corresponding with a prison program director at a minimum security facility here in Michigan. A box of theosophical materials sent had sparked interest in a group of inmates, some of who were familiar with theosophy and in fact had been subscribers to SUNRISE Magazine some years before. They wondered if perhaps someone associated with the Society could come give a talk. Though the prison is some three hours drive from our home, John volunteered to make the trek. So, after some discussion back and forth, and the necessary background check and paperwork processed, on September 17, 2002, the first Theosophical Prison Discussion Group was held in southern Michigan.

That first meeting consisted of 18 or so inmates, John and the program director, and was primarily a general talk on Theosophy and its application to our world today, followed by a question and answer period. The men were enthusiastic and eager to ask questions and make comment. In all, the session ran a little over two hours, and was pronounced a great success. It was decided a follow-up meeting was desired, and one was set up for the beginning of November. 14 inmates showed, plus the director and her immediate boss. We apparently passed muster with the boss, our theosophical approach being accepted as non-inflammatory and, above all, conducive of self-improvement and in the spirit of brotherhood. A third gathering was approved. John’s feeling at this point, however, was that two general talks by him were enough, and that for the third meeting, he would carry in copies of Grace Knoche’s TO LIGHT A THOUSAND LAMPS (Theosophical University Press 2001) and focus a discussion around those.

Before this happened, we had a visit at our Mecosta bookshop from the program director and her husband. On a short vacation North, they decided to drop in so John and I could meet him, and they both could meet me. I’d been wondering if it would be appropriate or helpful for me to accompany John into the all-male facility. Would I be a good complement to John’s discussion or more of a distraction? They both assured me that my presence would be welcomed, and so it was set that for the third discussion, I would also go. And, of course, three flats of plants! In my talking with the director, I’d found out that the prison has a greenhouse, where they cultivate plants from seed and cuttings to fill both their gardens and gift baskets prepared twice a year for individuals and volunteers who’ve helped in the prison. I’d dug up from my garden various perennials to be divided and potted: primroses, columbine, vincas, etc. They did have a large greenhouse stuffed full with mostly houseplants already divided and potted together in artful arrangements, including many colorful cacti baskets. And big flower gardens, mostly dormant at the time, but still obviously full of a variety of perennials. But I’m getting ahead of myself!

That third meeting, my first, was very special. When we arrived at the prison, we first checked in at the front desk. All materials, books and papers were carefully searched, counted and recorded. These same materials would be searched and counted when we left to be sure that nothing had been left behind and that we were taking nothing out that might have been given us by a prisoner. Then we passed through the first electronically-keyed door into a “hallway” where we walked through a metal detector, then were patted down, our pockets turned out, our shoes searched, and the underneath of our tongues checked. We signed in, leaving behind our driver’s licenses and keys (later, after we gained “volunteer” status, we would have prison IDs made that would be handed to us at this time.) We were also given pocket alarms that when activated, would sound a signal at the guard station in case of emergency. (John managed to trip his accidentally that first day and had a roomful of guards in seconds flat! The prisoners all found this amusing. I don’t know about the guards.)

Next we passed through the second electronic door into a corridor leading to various offices and to a third locked door, which preceded a second guard station before a fourth door to the prison yard. The third door can’t be opened till the second door closes. Going in that first time sort of reminded me of the old GET SMART! TV show with the multiple slamming doors. Plus the whole place is surrounded by double fencing with really scary-looking loops of razor wire all along the top. Once through that fourth door, we were actually outside in open air, there being a vast open “courtyard” surrounded by buildings which house the cellblocks, workshops, schoolrooms, etc. And everywhere – flowerbeds, dormant then, as I said, but still I could recognize iris, daylilies, columbine and many other perennials and remnants of annuals not yet cleared. (Later, I would get to see them in their full glory – a marvelous display of color in carefully thought-out pattern and juxtaposition.)

Our destination was the schoolroom. I was a little nervous, not  knowing what to expect. The courtyard that first time was full of possibly hundreds of prisoners enjoying the air – in between whatever scheduled events they might have had that day. There has never been a time that we’ve gone and not seen prisoners in the yard, whatever the weather.

The schoolroom looked just like any other – a big blackboard at one end, tables with chairs to seat a few dozen or so, bulletin boards all over with newspaper clippings, flyers, posters and other info tacked up – any and every subject covered from English grammar to geometry to articles detailing cases of illegal search and seizure.

The prisoners trickled in one or two at a time, carrying their passes which had to be applied for in advance. These were turned in to a guard stationed near the front door. The atmosphere here was relaxed, though disciplined – rather like a well-monitored high school. The inmates seemed to be coming and going in the hall without restraint – an easy camaraderie with each other and with the guards. There was around a dozen of us, I think – a mix of black and white. They were, all of them, then and since, kind and courteous to me. No one has ever done or said anything to make me feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. We read some from TO LIGHT A THOUSAND LAMPS, but mostly the time was spent in discussing different ideas that ranged from reincarnation to the Kabbalah, Farrakhan to Jesus and the Bhagavad-Gita. These guys had much to say. More than a few of them had read a lot of philosophy and religion, and at least one was very knowledgeable about theosophy, personally owning books by Purucker and Blavatsky. It was intense, but stimulating. Everyone participated. When the meeting was over, most of the men filed by to thank us and shake our hands. One older man told me quietly that he hadn’t intended to come, but was glad he had. We wouldn’t be seeing him next time, though, and he wanted us to know that it was because he was going home. I wished him well.

Since then we have tried to go every month. We did miss a couple of months during the change of our status from “visitors” to “volunteers”, and recently we missed a month due to car troubles. Three more inmates have been released (replaced by others) since we began, and we wish them the best. This has been an enriching experience for both of us. We always come away feeling inspired and reenergized. Our latest gathering was no exception. One of the highlights for me was a point when both John and I were simply sitting - silent witnesses to the interaction between the men. One of the fellows had turned to another and said, “The other day when you passed me in the yard, you put your hand on my shoulder. You didn’t say anything, but I felt accepted as your brother. I just wanted you to know I appreciated it.”

We can’t and don’t claim that our being there is the cause of this display of brotherhood. But I think, perhaps, we can say that our presence provides a forum for the acknowledgment of it. Hopefully, we’ll be able to continue for some time to come.