6,000,000 Minutes

 6,000,000 minutes. Today, Creator, has permitted, has allowed, for me to be incarcerated for 6,000,000 minutes......6,000,000 minutes....

I just found out that my recent commutation application was denied and I am absolutely numb. I am in shock. I am disillusioned. I am sad. Sad in a way that approaches grief.....is grief.... And yet I cling on to hope, and faith, and trust in an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent superior unseen and hidden creator......and I am not certain why.....is that sane? Is that insane? Are the core tenants of my spiritual relationship with a "heavenly bound" "father" mere traditions and legends that I have adopted because so many kinfolk for so many generations did/do the same? Do I really believe in the existence of a supernatural being capable of speaking other lower lifeforms **poof** into existence....a being whom then just allows another type of rebellious alien life form he spoke **poof** into existence prior to run rough shod over the lesser? Do I really believe? Or am I complacently just flowing along with the paradigms passed down to me? I am absolutely numb. I am in shock. I am disillusioned. I am sad. Sad in a way that approaches grief.....is grief....is the death of what I have envisioned as the optimal window of time for my release, recovery, reconciliation, and reconstruction. Hope is reshrouded. Another dream is reentombed. I may need to reevaluate my current situation, circumstances, core values, and lifestyle. If Father continues to refuse to do what His Word says, His Word PROMISES: exposing lies and liars and revealing the truth, I might very well need, want, to spend these next 2,936,160 minutes living in a very different way. Rather than living #FOMO I need to start living #JOMO and begin planning for a life that is going to be absolutely foreign and 180° different than my preincarceral life. I am 55. I may be 60 when I emerge from this incarceral life. I will very probably have no family or friends binding me to Tulsa. Between deaths, retirements, and the blood I have written off, I need to make an archetypal shift and begin to think of my future, of my happiness, and of my finale in ways that I have not considered before. Where is this God I believe spoke so directly, so pointedly, so loudly to me (read Day #400) when I was having an existential crisis of faith inside of DLMoss on October 5, 2012? Have I just been falsely convincing myself for 11+ years that He spoke those words of affirmation and reassurance to keep me from harming myself? Was the Holy Spirit really there comforting me or not? Was the promise I heard, that He would reveal the truth in such a way that everyone would know I was innocent, truly a promise from Him, or was it a fertile conjecture that I prestiged out of the necessity to mentally/emotionally/spiritually survive? 6,000,000 minutes.... a rejected commutation.... I am absolutely numb. I am in shock. I am disillusioned. I am sad. Sad in a way that approaches grief.....is grief....and I don't know what to do next..... I guess I will just cling to my church of Christ traditions and legends, keep a stiff upper lip, tell myself that it is all "God's will", and "Keep Calm and Carry On". I want to continue to live in a way that makes my grandparents, parents, my grandkids, and Jesus proud....but the drive, the motivations, to do that is waning...... 6,000,000 incarcerated minutes .......how many more?

Sweat

 I decided on my birthday last month to bookend the year with a series of sweats. I was going to focus my prayers for the Pardon and Parole Board to have revelations of truth and to see through the lies and liars (Brandon). I was also praying for my own peace and acceptance of whatever decision the Lord allows to move forward (and I do/will hold him solely responsible for whatever decision is reached about stage one next week). I wanted to go into the Christmas weekend and New Year with a cleared and focused mind. It was my first sweat since the pandemic and I had missed this special prayer time.

On Thursday, 12/22/23, the day before the sweat, I began with a fast and time of prayer inviting the Holy Spirit to prepare my mind for the time in the sweat lodge. On the Friday morning of the prayer event it was overcast and foggy. The unlit pyre stood almost five foot tall as the logs were piled high on top of the 200 or so rocks (which on this yard were actually traditional three holed red construction brick). As the fire was lit and grew it was extremely peaceful and relaxing just to stand around the "campfire" and stare into the flames. The heavy smoke would billow, fall back down to the ground, swirl around the base, and finally find the updraft it needed to rise high. As the flames abated and the wood began to turn to fluorescent embers I stared deeply into the red orange glow and was lost in so memories of camp outs, summer camp campfires, church retreats, and times just sitting around a fire pit with the family. After disrobing and standing within the ring of heat in only my shorts, my skin just seemed to come alive as it soaked in the warmth, the light, and some other unquantifiable and indefinable qualities that seem to mysteriously accompany fire and flame: as if it is purifying you in some way, somehow pushing out the cold and darkness in your soul and replacing it with renewal and purity. If all I had accomplished that morning was to set in front of the fire and talk with God, that would have been enough. I have missed the calming and centering sense of peace that fire gazing brings. I can easily imagine how rapt Moses must have felt as he peered into that plasma engulfed bush, or the protection the fleeing Israelites must have found reassuring as they slept under God's column of fire or hiked under His clouds of smoke. When the wooden skeleton was tightly wrapped and the rocks were molten it was time to enter into the sweat lodge. The structure of the lodge is built in such a way that you are forced to bow low to the ground to enter. Much like the allusion of the camel in Mark 18:25, you must, by choice, be humbled before the Lord to enter into his grounds. The sweat leader did a great job of linking scripture to the sweat traditions. The actual sweat it self was quite simply five rounds of prayer. With each round more of the scorching hot rocks were brought into the lodge and medicinal herbs and water were sprinkled over them. There was nothing unscriptural, unholy, or pagan that happened in the symbolic womb of the earth.

The temperatures climbed well into the +150s, each round of prayer becoming more intensely hot. Having prepared my mind ahead of time and expecting to hear from the Holy Spirit I relaxed my mind and my body preparing to receive whatever He had to offer. As the medicinal sage, sweet grass, cedar, and tobacco were added all five primary senses were stimulated. During the round of healing prayer I felt the joint and muscle pain abate. During the heart round I left behind the loneliness, depression, and longing that so often accompanies the holiday season for incarcerated persons. The sweat ended with praise and worship to God offered up through our Lord Jesus Christ. It is always good to pray with other Christian men who just want to humble themselves before the Lord and seek His leading. Worship does not always have to take place inside of brick and mortar. It can happen in tents, and under stars, and inside of hide covered domes. I am thankful to be on a yard where the Native community is welcoming of fringe affiliations. I felt ready to go into the holidays, as well as transition to a new year with a peace filled and tranquil heart. Coming into the new year the first sweat of 2024 was set for January 5th. The recent snows still covered the ground, the soil was frozen, and it was barely above freezing. The regular rituals were observed and the fire and rocks prepared. By this time I had confirmed that my Commutation packet was on the January 10th docket, finally, 20 months after I first submitted it. I went into the prayer time with the sole focus that these weaponized false allegations be exposed (Isaiah 54:17b) and/or that the Holy Spirit help me accept whatever the Lord was going to allow to happen. The sweat itself, while still emotionally intense, was diminished in strength/heat by the continual loss of heat between rounds as the new rocks were brought in. In fact, every time the door opened a woosh of cold air swept into the lodge turning the humidity into a foggy steam that was then sucked out of the womb. I left the sweat grounds hopeful, but still very anxious, about my Commutation hearing. On January 18th I found out that my Commutation application was denied. I wrote about that in my January 25th Day #4166 reflection posting about the numbness and grief I was in. Despite my prayers for peace and acceptance of His will, I was not doing well at all. I considered all kinds of spiraling behaviors that I had never before considered before to cope with my disillusionment. On February 2nd I returned to the sweat lodge to hear from the Lord, find some peace, and get back on my path. It was a beautiful morning. As usual, the flicker of flames licked at my bare skin as I stood around the campfire waiting for the rocks to absorb as much purifying heat as they could. The undulating glow emitting from the depths of the pyre mesmerised me. I could feel myself becoming more centered. This time, the experience inside the lodge was quite emotional. As soon as the door was closed and the darkness enveloped me I began to cry. I was able to have the kind of cathartic release that leaves you exhausted and ready to begin again. I released all the tears that I had been holding on to since the denial of my Commutation. I wept for myself, my parents, and my children. My parents now believe they may not live to see me freed, much less exonerated. I cried for my children whom have now lived almost as much of their life without me as we lived together. I wept because prison can be so emotionally, spiritually, and physically taxing.

Because the outside temperature was so moderate, the temperatures inside the prayer closet reached almost into the +170s when the water was first introduced to the rocks. During the final round, the Warrior Round, I swear it must have reached +200 as the heat took away my breath and shoved me down to the ground for relief. This was a sweat worthy of its name as every pore of my skin released a torrent of fluidity, toxins, and impurities - physical, emotional, and spiritual. I left the hallowed grounds feeling lighter, relieved, and with a renewed sense of knowing that I just must have trust and faith that the God whom has carried me safely and successfully through life so far, especially during my incarceration, will continue to do so. But living out a faith that exhibits trust is not always as easy to do as it is to write about.....