For a reason only fully known by God, I have several close friends who are male convicts–and not your average seven-fifteen years in medium security breed of convict, but the kind who are in maximum security for life. What I’ve learned about prison from these friends is that it is a microcosm for the world at large in which almost every human issue is magnified. Through this magnifying glass, what works for all of us comes into focus. Through this magnifying glass, the stunning power of forgiveness, particularly self-forgiveness, is crystal clear.

One of my convict friends, whom I’ll call J, is a brilliantly creative man with a brain that fires a hundred times a minute. He has an ever-present playful wit, a free-flowing poetic way of communicating and an exuberant childlike quality (he is in his sixties) that makes him instantly endearing. Although I’ve never gotten the chance, I imagine he is very fun to be around. He’s also a gifted artist and a motivated entrepreneur and through the two has created a nice little in-prison venture through which he supports himself.  J’s most recent arrest was his “third strike,” which under the Three Strikes Law means that he is serving a mandatory sentence of at least twenty-five years to life.

J’s wife of twenty-two years was understandably very distraught when J was arrested. Knowing that he was hurting his wife broke J’s heart. To make matters much worse, the same week he was arrested, she was diagnosed with cancer. The following week she took her own life and J’s response was to more or less give up his. He took responsibility for her misery and suicide and sentenced himself accordingly. J is in maximum security prison serving a life sentence and he’s also serving a self-imposed sentence above and beyond the harsh punishment that “The System” has deemed adequate. It turns out that J isn’t as fun to be around as I had assumed, because part of J’s punishment is self-enforced isolation. He spends most of his time keeping to himself. Even when he’s out hawking his wares, he is all about businesses, not about connection. He has cut himself off from the joy and human-connection the world has to offer and which he feels he doesn’t deserve. In doing so, he has cut the world off from the internal gifts that he has to offer. According to J, I am the only one with whom he shares his bright beautiful inner-landscape and I am the only one with whom he has allowed himself connection. J’s light is bright and it has illuminated my life with “light-heartedness.”  It is years since J’s wife died and he is only now allowing himself even this slightest respite from “solitary.”

Until we forgive ourselves, we wrap ourselves in a dark blanket of self-loathing instead of sharing our light with the world. Absolutely no one is the better off. The world needs our light. Our light is the gift we came here to deliver. Our light is the answer to someone else’s prayer –that’s just the way Spirit has it designed –so in denying our light’s expression, we are denying someone (and possibly many) their answered prayer. J’s situation is an extreme example that hits home the big and little ways that all of us impede the delivery of our gifts through self-punishment. Prison is full of men and women punishing themselves, but so is our world at large.

My friend Mickey started his career in corrections in 1966, at the age of eleven, for possession of marijuana. In 1967 his crime was Petty Theft, then Burglary in 1968, 1969 it was Grand Theft Auto, then Attempted Burglary in 1971, next was Armed Robbery in 1973, then in 1975 it was Escape from a State Penitentiary, in 1977 was his most severe crime; Murder Second Degree (a gruesome crime in which he lost his mind and thought he’d lost his soul), then Attempted Robbery in 1991 and in 2004 his crimes included both Assault with a Deadly Weapon and Criminal Threats. He’s also got “Assault on an Officer” and “Disorderly Conduct” thrown into the mix somewhere. He spent his youth in three juvenile corrections facilities, then spent eighteen years in prison in Oklahoma, then ten years in North Dakota and now he is in San Diego and is ten years into his current sentence of forty-one years to life. When he sent me his rap sheet he said, “So there you have it, a lifetime of crime and institutions.”  It is easy to see how Mickey might view himself as unworthy of any goodness, how he might see himself as parasite instead of a gift. It’s easy to understand how others might take the same view of him.

Here’s some of what I know about Mickey: I was introduced to him via the manuscript for his memoir; Life Sentence, Life Purpose, in which he tells his story in an eloquent voice and from a primarily spiritual perspective. I loved his memoir so much that I agreed to edit it and in the process we not only became coauthors, but the best of friends.

Mickey is of gifted intelligence and often uses that intelligence as a “jailhouse lawyer,” helping fellow inmates with myriad legal issues and filings, some of them difficult even for real attorneys from real law schools. He also reads and writes letters for the illiterate when asked.  Mickey’s friends and family describe him, almost unanimously, as an amazing teacher. They say that he finds ways to teach difficult concepts and has the patience to stick with a lesson until the person understands. His sister says that, had his path been different, he probably would’ve been a university professor teaching World Religions.

Mickey has an extraordinary memory. He can –and does –quote everything from the Bible, to Course In Miracles, to Buddhist parables. Each morning he gets up at 5:30am and meditates, following each breath in and out for an hour. And he is a poet. Mickey has written volumes of poetry, most of it heartfelt and filled with lovely visuals:

Bhakti

In every rose
And sunset
Does love appear
In tangled moss
And cobwebs
It does adhere…
In morning’s light
Her smile’s a song
Spirit of faith
To her belongs
Unfettered dreams
And love that sings
Of life and things
                                Mickey 2006

(In Hinduism, “Bhakti” is the expression of love and adoration centered upon the Supreme Person.)

But what really sets Mickey apart from most of us is that he sees good, value and purpose in just about everyone and everything. Granted he has his moments of self-pity and sometimes anger, but for the most part, for most moments, he peacefully accepts what has been and what is now. He believes that what happens to him doesn’t just happen to him, it happens for him. He believes there is a loving lesson in every circumstance. He believes every person –even those with him at the bottom of the bottom of society’s pile–is valuable, loveable and has an important role in the cosmic play. Mickey sees beauty, meaning and life where most of us would not see it. And he is grateful. Sitting in his small steel cell almost all day every day, he is able to count his blessings and feel gratitude. Mickey is able to watch a sparrow land on the ground outside his tiny window and smile in wonder at how much God is packed into that little creature.

His deep peace and spiritual connection are attributable to one major element; forgiveness. It is forgiveness that truly separates him from the masses and forgiveness that has taken him from criminal to role model –because everyone who knows Mickey or has read his memoir thinks, “If he can do it, I have no excuse.” The most common feedback on Life Sentence, Life Purpose is; “Mickey’s story changed me.” In transforming his perception of his life and of himself, Mickey has become a role model and a catalyst for the transformation of others.

Mickey was dealt just about every bad card in the deck.: teenage drug addicted parents, poverty, epilepsy, a father in prison most of his life who introduced him to IV drugs at fourteen and talked him into robbing pharmacies, abusive foster parents, a mother who struggled with paranoid schizophrenia and who twice (the first time when Mickey was seven) came at him with a knife threatening to kill him –and his own addiction and mental illness. One would think he’d hold a major grudge with his parents and God over these facts, especially sitting in his little cell for life, but he does not. He loves his parents and he loves God. Even more miraculously, he has learned to love himself. Mickey’s guilt and self-loathing dragged him to the depths of hell and several suicide attempts, but in the end he performed the miracle of forgiving himself. He says, “If a man forgives himself, he can forgive anyone. It is not a condoning of what has been done. It is a letting go of the past and embracing the present. There is no point in repeatedly scratching an old wound until it bleeds.”

Mickey is a living parable to the resilience of the human spirit and the heart’s desire to keep on loving. His life is testimony to the loving gift of forgiveness, not just to the self, but through an ever-outward ripple effect, absolutely everyone.

A string of serendipity led Mickey to become pen pals with a man named Azim Khamisa. I am certain that the pairing of these two men, who share an almost Christ-like ability to forgive, is no coincidence. I am certain that they are setting miracles into motion as they combine their energies. Azim’s story is a superhuman account of forgiveness. It is Divine:

In 1995 Azim’s only son, Tariq – a 20-year-old student – was shot and killed while delivering pizzas in San Diego. His killer, Tony Hicks, became the first 14-year-old to stand trial as an adult in the state of California and received a 25-year prison sentence. Azim says, “When I got the phone call saying that Tariq was dead I kind of left my body, because the pain was too much to bear. There was no solace to be found in my mind and so, as a Sufi Muslim, I turned to my faith. For the next few weeks I survived through prayer and was quickly given the blessing of forgiveness, reaching the conclusion that there were victims at both ends of the gun.

In my faith, on the fortieth day after a death you are encouraged to channel your grief into good compassionate deeds: deeds which provide high octane fuel for the soul’s forward journey. Forty days is not a long time to grieve for a child, but one of my motivations for starting the Tariq Khamisa Foundation, an organization that teaches forgiveness and whose goal is to prevent children from killing children, was to create spiritual currency for my son, as well as to give myself a sense of purpose.

Simultaneously, I reached out to Ples Felix, the grandfather and guardian of Tony Hicks. The first time I met Ples I told him that I felt no animosity towards his grandson. Ples was quick to take the offered hand of forgiveness. We’re very different: I wear a pin-striped suit, and he has hair down to his waist. But from the moment we met we have been like brothers. We share a common purpose. We believe that in every crime there is an opportunity to improve society by learning how to prevent that crime from happening again. Tariq was a victim of Tony, but Tony was a victim of American society – and society is a mirror image of each and every one of us.

Five years after the tragedy I met Tony. It was a very healing time. I found him very likeable – well mannered and remorseful. I told him that when he got out of prison there would be a job waiting for him at the Tariq Khamisa Foundation. Tony’s grandfather says, “When the three of us met in prison it was probably hardest for Azim. At the end, after Azim had left, Tony said, “That is a very special man. I shot and killed his one and only son and yet he can sit with me, encourage me, and then offer me a job”.

Azim says, “You do forgiveness for yourself, because it moves you on. The fact that it can also heal the perpetrator is the icing on the cake. Tony turned thirty-three this year and when he was twenty-two he earned a score of 94% on the GED –completely self-taught. He is twelve units away from his first degree in Child Psychology. He reads five books a month and about ten months ago started to write poetry. We have 2.5 hours of video of him when he was twenty-six years old and he comes across as monk-like in his peacefulness and loving world-view. We show this video to children and his words and bearing are an inspiration to them. I believe my forgiveness had a lot to do with his transformation. Prior to my meeting he would say to Ples “Daddy – I am not going to make it in prison – I am going to die in here.” Tony is not only making it, but inspiring thousands of others to forgive. (excerpt from theforgivenessproject.com, 2010)

Azim’s forgiveness launched Tony into the journey of self-forgiveness and as was the case with Mickey, self-forgiveness transformed Tony from criminal into contributing adult, a role model who inspires thousands of others to forgive. For all concerned, forgiveness continues to ripple outward in beautifully expanding and love-filled circles.

Kim Whiting is a long-time member of the Science of Mind community and is coauthor of Life Sentence, Life Purpose, available on Amazon.com

Visit amazon.com to order Life Sentence Life Purpose.