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http://www.spoonjackson.com/monthly/index.php?entry=entry110723-181100 My students hearts, souls and spirits long to speak, to have a voice and a quiet place, a chance to express their often unexpressed and unknown selves in poetry and prose. Sometimes, my fellow prisoners are not aware of this fact, until they are sitting in class writing. This is what happened to me decades ago at San Quentin when I trusted my gut and signed up for a poetry class.

I open my class with silent writing. This silent writing is a form of free expression on any subject. The silent period can last 20 to 50 minutes, depending on the flow of the pens on paper. Amazing prose and poetry can come from this process. Such a space to create as a group and as individuals is a rare and appreciated thing in prison.

Being a poet, a teaching artist in prison, I know the importance of this space and place to stay human, and for my students to share their own realness with their own voice. This writing offers the students a safe and cool place to bring down their masks and be human and real, and allow that what connects them to all human beings anywhere, to come out in an art form.
People not in prison would be shocked at how open, human and real these souls, hearts and spirits become to the arts when suffering or flowing through a prison existence. The arts can save you and sustain you through decades of hardness and inhumanity.
The writing helps to cope with and even prevent many tragedies, and can often create a reservoir of peace, hope and forgiveness. The power of the arts can open some up to feeling and caring again - to being human again. Perhaps, a state lost since childhood. The endless depths of that childlike love, creativity and realness.

© Spoon Jackson
First published at the Advocate www.sjral.com

Geese Greetings
I saw and fed the family of geese this morning. I had to call them down from building 5 to in front of building 8. The Mama and Papa goose saw me tossing bread in the sky for them and they took big jumps towards the food. They just could not get up and fly in one jump because the babies would have been left behind. I spread the bread and an apple out. Pigeons came down and I watched the most aggressive young gooslings chase a pigeon away. They are a little smaller than a soft ball and so full of curious life.
Family of Geese
The geese, my geese family greeted me this morning from atop of the cell block as I walked to the artroom. I called to them, the geese looked around long before they flew down to meet me and do their head and tounge dance. I bob my head with them and stick my neck out. The geese made sure there were no birdhaters on the yard. I shared some bread with them and of course the pigeons helped themselves. I took some crumbs to the morning sparrows and their young. I then watched as others fed a pair of Mallard ducks that come to eat daily most of the spring. I then threw chunks of food out for the crows in the distance. I could not see the crows, but I knew they were there watching. The bird haters came out and all the birds scattered even some pigeons. One of the birdhaters picks up the bread I laid out for the crows and throws it in the trash. When the hater leaves, I take the bread out of the trash and place it out for the crows again. I did not cuss the bird hater out or abuse him in any way. I’ll let karma do what she needs to do to balance the love and hate, the darkness and light
In Peace and Realness
Spoon.
]]> http://www.spoonjackson.com/monthly/index.php?entry=entry110723-181100 Spoon Jackson Sat, 23 Jul 2011 16:11:00 GMT
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http://www.spoonjackson.com/monthly/index.php?entry=entry110626-173623 Today middle of May, winter is back full of thunder and lightening. Heavy storms in the mountains. Heavy rain and wind here in New Folsom, Mt. Represa, California, even some funnel cloud sightings.
I sit in front of the art room and ponder how can I be nicer and not so agitated in my dealings with folks, especially the teaching of my writing groups. I hope I don't become too jaded, too impatient to stay open and to learn and grow because we are all students and teachers... seekers and creators wanting to do better

Bird stuff
May 2011

The geese love it, the wet grass, and the dark sky this morning. I watch geese ponder on wet grass and gaze at the sky. Eight geese sit there, looking towards Mecca, or perhaps Folsom lake. They don't seem to want anything right now - just to be. Hello Morning! Peace G Love!

Chain linked fence
Now there is thunder and lightening, and looking out of the chain linked fence on the left side of the Art room, I see the geese hater kicking at the pigeons I fed, and chasing the pipe nesting pigeons – keeping them away from their nest and one egg. It's cold out. I thought he was just a geese hater. I suppose he hates all birds. The winds are blowing. It seemed to have rained all night.

Sweet Mother Earth
I prefer silence and a long hug and kiss by Mother Earth or perhaps one of her many goddesses.
Right now the pigeons are eating the bread, and I am awaiting food from the streets. A food sale, about the only time we get real and good food. I think there is a poem or two waiting to come out. Not that I live to eat, but it is a treat to get some real tasty food sometimes, instead of the fake stuff they feed us. Sometimes I think I live from food sale to food sale

Foolish dreamer

Today I finished the Libretto I am writing for my Swedish brother Stefan. We are creating a musical based on my chapters in my memoir ”By Heart” that I wrote with Judith Tannenbaum, and based on the lyrics and music from the two CD's ”Freedom for the prisoners” and ”Words of realness”. Of course Stefan and our director will create other music and flows for the piece. Stefan projects it will take up to three years for the musical to come to stage in Sweden.
My dream, my hope is that I can attend that opening! Oh, I am just a foolish dreamer. I have dreamed I could fly. I have dreamed I could talk to animals. I have dreamed that plants and flowers whisper songs and poems to me. Sometimes I have brought them back through the doors of dreams. I have dreamed I was on stage sharing my work and wonderful things were thrown at me. I have dreamed I live beyond any kind of prisons, beyond hate and revenge. I may be just a foolish dreamer, but I'll keep dreaming beyond walls. I'll love some of you who will never love or forgive me for my past wrong – something that happened decades ago. An event you still chose to see and color your perception of my life. Forgive for your own good, your own balance, your own love and light. Perhaps, when you can forgive yourself, you will forgive me. The foolish dreamer, that will keep on dreaming beyond walls. A dreamer that believes in love as swans do.

Stay real,
© Spoon
]]> http://www.spoonjackson.com/monthly/index.php?entry=entry110626-173623 Spoon Jackson Sun, 26 Jun 2011 15:36:23 GMT