Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate to learn from men who have not only walked this path but are still here to share their wisdom.
“I learn from others’ mistakes because you will not live long enough to make them all on your own.” These words, written in Vietnamese on a poster that hung in the office of my favorite childhood psychologist, have become a guiding principle in my life. Since becoming incarcerated, I’ve held tightly to this creed. Prison was a world I had never known—a place with rules, opportunities, and lessons I was unaware of. Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate to learn from men who have not only walked this path but are still here to share their wisdom. These men have been mentors, friends, and spiritual guides, and I am deeply grateful for their presence. In particular, I think of my first cellmates, Dahr and Brian. Dahr, a 65-year-old mountain man from Tennessee, had a heart as big as the landscapes he loved and never hesitated to look out for those he cared about. Brian, an Army veteran in his 50s, challenged me in ways I needed most—calling me out on my nonsense and helping me focus on what truly matters: body, mind, and spirit. Tonight, I write this on the sacred evening of Yule, the winter solstice and the final night of the year:
A line of a perfect dream, carving forever the soul of the mountain,
Rising higher, stretching only toward the sky.
Like my hopes and ambitions, freedom is what they mean to me.
The cliff she climbed, step by step, atop a view of the world.
A soul she opened at the edge, an aura of peace around the mountain
That only a few can see.
Be on a real trip, to see what life offers and feel its love.
Honestly, I’m just happy to be alive—free enough in spirit to reflect, dream, and grow.
To everyone, Happy New Year and Blessed Be!
