Do you remember last year, when a Brilliance Inside circle member gave the graduation speech for the inaugural class of UC Irvine’s “south campus” inside Donovan?  Well, on June 18th, Cohort 2 graduated — and we celebrated TWO of our circle members: one who’s been with us for over 2.5 years, and another who was part of our very first TEDx Core Team and even emceed our first TEDx event. (If you were there, you know exactly who I’m talking about!)

Alongside the gifts of celebrating their hard work and meeting their families, one thing struck me the most:

Of the 15 graduates, seven earned magna or summa cum laude honors. That means nearly 50% of the cohort graduated among the top 6% of UC Irvine’s entire 2025 class. Our circle member's achievement was so notable that he wore four honor cords — and his name is now engraved on a plaque on the UCI campus.

It’s easy to dismiss this stunning result with a quick, “Well, maybe the professors go easy on these ‘poor,’ ‘disadvantaged’ folks.” But here’s the truth:

1. UC Irvine uses the same admission criteria for Donovan students as for any other third-year transfer student

2. The professors confirm — with a knowing chuckle — that they do not make it easier

3. Those of us who go inside regularly know that something deeper is at work here

So, what creates results like this?

When they applied, these graduates understood the unique and valuable opportunity they were being granted.  For many of us, college at 18 is just the next step on a track someone else laid out. We may appreciate the experience, but we don’t always treasure it as wildly rare or priceless.

The Donovan folks do.

Mostly as a consequence of their own choices, they didn’t have access to this kind of education in their teens.  For example, our circle member put it simply: “Seventh grade marked my first incarceration and the end of my formal education.”  Now, in their late 20s, 30s, 40s and even 50s and 60s, the Donovan students fully grasp the value of this mind-expansion and self-discovery.  And they will not let what once slipped through their fingers slip away again.

Knowing this value creates determination and motivation that are inspirational.  The students dive in with all that they are and their results at graduation are simply the natural consequence of that focus and fortitude.

I see this same dynamic in our circles too. Some come to our spaces because it feels good — while others come because they see it as a vehicle for radical transformation. 

These two groups experience our circle differently and, therefore, they are transformed differently. The first feels better. The second discovers far more than comfort – they discover themselves.  They find true freedom.

You have a choice:  Where, in your life, are you going through the motions?  What gifts are you undervaluing and overlooking – your health, your spouse, your kids, your work?  You can keep coasting and miss out on what’s hidden right in front of you.  Or…. You can embrace everyday life for the “unique and valuable opportunity” it really is.  Trust that even the most mundane moments can hide priceless gifts — if you bring your whole self to them.  You might just find yourself wearing your own version of four honor cords.

Here are a few press articles and podcasts about this graduation you may enjoy:

• UC Irvine’s press release: “94 percent of UC Irvine in-prison bachelor’s program graduates earn honors”

• UC Irvine’s Flickr account with more photos

• NBC UC Irvine’s “Against All Odds” 9-minute podcast - “How UCI Professors Help Inmates Find Hope Through Education”

• San Diego channel 7 news: “Serving Time, Earning Degrees”

• Fox News San Diego: “Rewriting Futures: Incarcerated students graduate from UC Irvine program”

All photos pulled from UC Irvine press release and taken by Steve Zylius

Not long ago, a friend found this note in her mailbox:

Hi Neighbor!

Your down-the-street neighbor Stella (age 5 ½) will be out in our driveway at [street address] Avenue on Wednesday [date] at about 5:30pm selling her artwork for 25 cents apiece.  You’re getting this $1 bill and accompanying quarter, because we’d love for you to come by and support her and her efforts.  Please keep the $1 as my attempt to bribe you into coming by, and use the quarter to pay for one of her creations.  While the quality of the artwork is perfect for a 5-6 year old (better, really…but…you’ll see :-) ), Stella’s drive and passion surpass my own.  And that’s saying something.

So please, come spend some (our) money, support our [neighborhood] community and meet the budding artist behind the work.  Hope to see you there!

Stella’s dad

At the sidewalk “gallery opening,” my friend joined several other neighbors in admiring Stella’s artwork and showering her with praise for her commitment to show up and follow through.

Just imagine how 5 ½-year-old Stella must have felt.

I suspect she felt truly seen – not just for what she made but for who she is.  She received the confidence that comes from being loved in the act of expressing herself.  She experienced worthiness, from her parents and the neighbors.

These moments — of being affirmed in our essence, not just our output — are foundational. They allow us to build trust in ourselves, to grow and to stand in our brilliance. Experiences like these teach us something essential:

• Our greatest value isn’t in what we do, but in who we are

• And it’s the power of who we are that fuels the quality and strength of what we do — not the other way around

Similarly, this weekend, another friend posted a request for help to create an experience for her 11-year-old daughter and friend to learn a powerful lesson about investing and trading into their own futures.

As we come off Father’s Day weekend, I give a huge “hats off” to these parents – and to all of you – who truly see their kids (and the other important people in your lives) for whom they are created to be and support them in experiencing this value and power for themselves.

You have a choice: You can tell someone they are valuable.  Or you can create an experience in which they feel it firsthand.  The second is always more powerful…and more lasting.  Choose to uplift someone – young or not-so-young – into the truth of who they already are. Support them in an experience that allows them to feel, deep in their being, the light and power they bring to the world.  And then, watch them grow in confidence, self-worth and innate power.

Last week, we shared the extraordinary story of one Donovan resident making a 57.5-foot cake with the desire to feel every single person on the prison yard. He wishes to feel you too! So, he shares with you the recipe below. If you make it, please let us know how experience so we can transmit it to Carter.

Enjoy!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Swiss Roll No-bake Cake

By Donovan prison’s chef extraordinaire “Carter”

In [brackets] are some options for those of us who are not limited to a prison pantry. Enjoy!

Serves 8-12

1 package (14-17 oz.) Duplex cookies [or other cream-filled cookies, like Oreos]

1 oz. margarine [or butter]

2 oz. milk or water

4 chocolate chip crème pies [or other similar product: Twinkies, brownies, etc.], cut in half

1/3 batch peanut butter caramel, see below

1/3 batch peanut butter cream frosting, see below

1-1.5 oz. shaved chocolate

1. Separate cookies.  Scrape cream filling from 6 cookies into a bowl to be used in the Peanut Butter Cream Frosting recipe below.  Scrape cream filling from remaining cookies into a bowl & set aside until step 6

2. In a cereal bag [or thick freezer bag], crush cookies into fine crumbs.  Some larger crumbs are OK.  If you want to cheat, use a food processor

3. In a mixing bowl, melt margarine and combine cookie crumbs.  Add milk or water and knead – preferably with your hand – until it forms a cohesive and not sticky ball.  Cover and let sit for at least 2 hours to allow the crumbs to hydrate (overnight is best)

4. Knead dough again until completely smooth and it has a playdough-like texture.  Depending on the cookies used, a small amount (1/2 tsp or so) of milk/water is usually necessary

5. Roll the dough out between 2 sheets of plastic into an approximately 9”x12” rectangle

6. Place the scraped cream filling onto the dough in a 10”x3” rectangle, starting from 2” from the (long-sided) bottom and leaving 1” in either side.  Cover cream filling with plastic and roll to smooth out

7. Spread the peanut butter caramel evenly over the cream filling, going slightly over towards the middle of the dough

8. Place 4 of the crème pie halves in a line at the end of the filling, 2” from the edge of the dough.  Fold the 2” edge of the dough over the crème pies.  Place the remaining crème pies halves over the dough covering the first line of crème pies

9. Fold the sides of the dough to seal the sides of the roll.  Roll the cake, finishing with the seam on the bottom.  Using your hands, gently shape and flatten the roll into a 10” shape

10. Top the roll with the peanut butter cream frosting.  Top with the shaved chocolate

Peanut butter caramel

4 oz. peanut butter (2 packets)

2 oz. jelly (2 packets)

2 oz. milk

2 Tbs. hot cocoa mix

7 sweetener packets

1. Place peanut butter and jelly in small bowl.  Microwave for 30-45 seconds until jelly bubbles.  Stir well to combine and microwave another 30 seconds until mixture starts to slightly bubble

2. Add milk, cocoa mix and sweetener.  Stir continuously for 1-3 minutes until mixture starts to thicken and pull away from the sides of the bowl

You can use right away as a topping or dip; or let it cool to use as a filling.

Peanut butter cream frosting

6 oz. peanut butter (3 packets), divided

Cream filling from 6 Duplex [or other] cookies, from first recipe above

3 oz. milk

4 oz. plain, non-dairy creamer

3 Tbs. hot cocoa mix

4-7 sweetener packets

1. In bowl containing cream filling from the 6 cookies, add 4 oz. of peanut butter.  Microwave for about 45-60 seconds and stir until the cream is dissolved

2. Add milk and stir until mixture is softened and smooth.  Add cocoa mix and stir until well combined.  Add the creamer and stir until fully incorporated.  Microwave for 45-60 seconds, until some bubbling occurs

3. Add remaining peanut butter and stir until completely combined.  Add sweetener packets and stir well.  User fewer packets for less sweet frosting and all seven for a sweeter one

Frosting can be used warm as a topping or allow to cool for a firmer texture for frosting cakes or other desserts.

A couple of Tuesdays ago, I stepped onto the Donovan yard and made my way to the gym instead of our usual meeting space. That day, everyone on the yard was in for a treat.

Inside the gym, a team of residents had lined up ten folding tables end-to-end. On those tables sat a single, continuous 57.5-foot cake.

Yes — one cake. Not a line of cakes arranged together. One, cohesive, hand-rolled cake stretching nearly the length of a semi-truck trailer. Made by our one and only Carter(unfortunately, not his real name, like all incarcerated folks I mention).

Carter is our chef extraordinaire.  Without access to fresh vegetables, fruit, herbs, meats — or even knives, ovens, stoves, beaters or basic appliances — he creates gourmet-level dishes out of prison’s highly processed, shelf-stable ingredients. While he can whip up a delicious Thai peanut chicken, he's most famous for his cakes, which fellow prison residents regularly buy for birthdays, graduations and other celebrations.

When Carter brings cake into our circles, one of my greatest joys is to watch team members savor his beautifully crafted flavors — eyes twinkling as they’re transported back to childhood memories or pre-prison moments. After I return from a trip, Carter and I often gush over the experienced flavors, spices and various culinary experiences while the rest of the team smiles and indulges us.

This time, Carter wanted to do something extraordinary. Something unprecedented.

He held a vision — carried in his heart for over a year — to feed every person on the 750-person yard a slice of cake. A luxurious, homemade gift, crafted with care and offered freely to everyone.

He recruited a team and got to work. They spent hours separating Duplex cookies, scraping out the cream, and grinding the cookies into fine powder — all without a blender, mixer or even a proper countertop. Just ingenuity, persistence and heart.

After upgrading and reassembling the ingredients – with lots of chocolate, of course – and finding the way to roll – with 15 pairs of hands – the 57.5 feet of cake, Carter and the team served a slice to every person on the yard.

Pause for a moment: a prison resident led a team to handmake a 127-pound cake and serve it to every one of his 750 fellow residents. Not for attention. Not to impress the Parole Board. Not to earn favors.  He wanted to share his passion with others; he wanted to give a unique and precious gift to many who don’t have access to something as simple as a homemade piece of cake.  He wanted to share in a moment of delight and humanity with others.

These kinds of quiet, radical acts of generosity of spirit move me most deeply. They stretch me.

I admit, I see it often inside those Donovan walls: people doing things that cost them – sometimes dearly – for the benefit of others.

Each time, I’m invited to examine the expression of my own generosity: how deep, wide, unconditionally it goes.  And thanks to these selfless expressions from the prison residents, I get stretched into deeper, wider, increasingly unconditional expressions of my own.

You have a choice:  How might you show up in service to someone today?  Can you stretch yourself by giving to someone you don’t know, or giving anonymously, or giving more than what feels comfortable?  While it may cost you, discover something unexpected — something that far outweighs the cost.

P.S. For the fellow numbers nerds (like Carter and me), here are a few cake stats:

• 57.5 feet long

• 127.7 lbs

• 235,950 calories total

• 800 slices

• 2,178 Duplex cookies

P.P.S. It wasn’t until later that I realized this was the first time, in my 9+ years inside Donovan, that I’ve had the privilege of eating food made by a resident. And yes, Carter’s cake more than lived up to the twinkle I so often see in our team’s eyes. As did the sugar rush. ;-)

Last Tuesday, prison resident Adam brought to our Donovan circle difficulties he’s having with his teenage son who hates school and ditches regularly.  There have been parent-teacher conferences (attended by Adam’s mom) and interventions and school contracts signed by Adam’s son…  

On Sunday, a friend Bruce shared that, on Easter Sunday a couple decades ago, he walked his grandmother out of the hospital, hours after her husband of 57 years drew his last breath.  In the parking lot, his grandmother said, “I have no reason left to live.”

How do we respond in these situations?

Adam has tried to motivate his son with “Look where ditching school got me,” “You gave your word to improve your attendance when you signed the contract,” “You love interior design; do you see how math is needed for interior design?”

Bruce could have said “It’s going to be OK,” “You still have your kids and us, your grandkids,” “It’s resurrection day; let’s celebrate that.”

And yet, when we take a step back and place ourselves in the shoes of Adam’s son or Bruce’s grandmother: What do we most need to hear when we’re down, hurt, frustrated, angry, etc.?

It’s not to be told that we’re wrong, that we don’t understand, that we didn’t do the right thing, that we’re a failure.  We already tell ourselves these things!  It’s also not to be told how to fix the situation, which only disempowers us.

If you’re like our Donovan team, you need to hear that:

1. You are loved

2. You are cared for

3. You are supported

(And let’s also acknowledge that, sometimes, we most need to not hear anything; we need to receive a hug, to feel a tight squeeze, to know that we were heard.  Which, yes, say the above three things with action.)

If that’s what you most need, it’s likely similar to what Adam’s son, Bruce’s grandmother and your spouse/child/colleague needs too.  So, instead of criticizing, blaming, shaming or fixing, try responding with an “I love you.  I care.  You are supported.”  See what that opens up.

We don’t need fixing!  We need a reminder that we’re loved, cared for and supported.

This reconnects us to our inherent, inner brilliance.  And that reopens the access point to our highest wisdom, truth, determination, creativity and energy.  From there, we find the answers to our own challenges.  While still low, Adam’s attendance is improving.  Bruce’s grandmother lived another two decades to over 100 years old.

You have a choice:  Next time, resist the urge to fix.  Put all of the criticism that’s wanting to burst out on the backburner.  Start with a literal or figurative hug and by telling the person that they are loved, cared for and supported.  You’ll see: that will open them up, instead of shutting them down.

PS:  As you practice saying this – “You are loved, cared for and deeply supported” – you’ll likely realize, like we did, that it helps the teller, as well as the receiver.  During covid, we were shut out of Donovan for almost 24 months.  Our slow, monthly correspondence with our team members inside Donovan felt puny and powerless compared to their incredibly challenging circumstances and constant changes.  And yet, reminding them that, despite their circumstances, they remained deeply loved, cared for and supported, was the most potent antidote.  We were infusing each letter with hugs and support.  This filled us up.  (Yes, we later heard – as recently as a couple weeks ago – how much it also carried them through that dark season.)

... Ha! Today's home project was to reorganize the closet and move the Covid Letters, which I just happen to mention above, to the garage. In the process, I found this! Read the "PPS added on Jan 4th" ;-)

Shortly after Justin (yes! that's his actual name!) joined our Circle in October 2019, he started sharing his deepest heart’s desire with us:  to go home to his parents in Oklahoma to serve them as they age.

In many ways, it's a simple desire.  Most of us dream much grander dreams for our lives.  In its simplicity, it’s a dream many prison residents hold in their heart of hearts.

Like many fellow residents, Justin’s greatest fear was to be released “too late.”  In other words, when one – or gosh forbid, both – of his parents had passed away.

For years, Justin held faithfully and uncompromisingly to his heart’s desire: go home to his parents. We’d hear about it repeatedly as he would step into his fantasy and share a small glimpse into it (which usually involved animals).

That his external circumstances didn’t support this dream did not tarnish Justin’s fervency in the dream. Arguably, it invited him to hold onto it even more powerfully.

Then, a law changed that opened the door to a possible resentencing.  Suddenly, there could be movement.  Again, Justin stood in his heart’s desire with all his might: get home to his parents.

Justin’s journey resembled so many of our journeys to our greatest treasure.

There’d be a faint light at the end of the narrow tunnel; it would be a freight train.

There’d be an opening; it was into a bottomless abyss.

There’d be a step up; it led straight into a brick wall.

Opening, wall.  Opening, wall.  Opening, wall.

Justin continued to hold true to his heart’s desire, unwavered.

No matter if we were celebrating a new opening or comforting him in a new setback, Justin never lost sight of his dream:  to be home with his parents.

On October 28, 2024, Justin was released from prison.  Four years early.  What a gift and blessing.

Justin was out, but he was not home.  He was thrown back into his old neighborhood, even driving down the street where he’d had his fateful accident.  (The palm tree he took out 15 years earlier had not been replaced.)  During his time in prison, his parents had moved to Oklahoma.  Justin was out of prison, but not yet home.

The rollercoaster continued.  Opening, wall.  Opening, wall.  At one point, it looked like Justin would be required to stay in California through his multi-year parole.  Again, his heart remained strong: getting home to his parents.

Well, to get to the punch line, last Wednesday, Justin fulfilled that dream. He flew (for the first time) to Oklahoma.  He’s now home with his parents (and their animals).

As a privileged observer of this journey, I will assert that, several times in the past years, Justin and his family reached the end of the Road of Options.  Even in these times, Justin would continue to hold in his heart his desire to be home with his parents.

If it feels like the man was a broken record, it’s because he was.  Justin never wavered. And thanks to his faith and determination, he’s now living out his greatest heart’s desire.

You have a choice: Take a page out of Justin’s book and stand for your dream unwaveringly, with all of your heart.  Regardless of the circumstances looking “great” or “grim,” stay committed.  Release your belief about your dream's proper timeline.  Or how it’s meant to look.  You too will, in all likelihood, see it come to fruition right before your very eyes.

 PS: Don't miss the super special, private 35-second video message below. To my ears and heart, it's the sound of awe, gratitude and true freedom of person and spirit.

Justin’s Day 1 of his Dream Life

Last Wednesday, having arrived home in Oklahoma, Justin sent a few of us a video message. It was a spontaneous and private recording. He accepted it be shared with you.

This is what Day 1 of living your dream sounds like. :-)

Flying back to San Diego on a Monday evening (to be inside Donovan the following day, of course ;-) ), I find my row.  In the aisle seat is a young mom with a 20-month-old little girl on her lap.  As soon as I settle into my middle seat, Mom says “This is her first flight.  I don’t know how she’s going to act.  I apologize in advance.”  I reassure this young mom – who doesn’t seem to be a seasoned flyer either – that it’s all good.

I quickly gather that Henley – as I later learn her name to be – is an active, hyper curious, chattery little one.  She wants to discover all the new toys of this new setting she’s constrained to remain in.  She quickly finds how to open the tray table.  And that starts a game that will be picked up countless times throughout the flight of Henley opening the tray table and Mom closing it with a “Baby Girl, that can’t be open right now.”

After some taxiing, we are cleared for take-off.  The instant – and I do mean, the instant – the engines start spooling, Henley freezes her incessant activity, perks upright on her mother’s lap, puckers her lips into this small “O” and attunes all her senses to the myriad new experiences of this moment.

It’s evident that she’s listening to the roaring of the engines in full thrust, not too far away from our seats.  She’s sensing every vibration rattling her body.  She’s registering the compression into her mom’s chest from the acceleration.  She’s looking straight ahead into the tray table, tapped into all the new experiences moving through her small body.  I’d argue she is also smelling and tasting the experience (only to discover that it doesn’t have a particular taste or smell).

There is no emotion or judgment in her, only curiosity for the deluge of new information pouring into her.

It is magical to watch a little human experience something new for the very first time.  There’s a level of presence, of attention that is unique.  They become so deeply absorbed in the moment – with its torrent of new sensations and bits of data – that everything else disappears.  And, in this way, they learn.

Watching Henley was such a reminder to recapture these basics.

While we benefit from our brain’s incredible capacity to sort through the billions of bits of data that come as us every minute and to focus on what it deems “important,” “valuable” or “relevant,” it actually disconnects us from our actual lived experience of this present moment.  Our experience of the moment becomes a reflection of our recollection of similar past experiences, NOT the actual present moment.  Our brain has decided how we’ll experience the moment, its value and the outcome before we even experience it.

For 20 to 30 seconds, Henley sits there, frozen in her wild presence.  She seems to experience the take-off more authentically than anyone else on the plane.

I spend the full five hours of flight being tutored by this 20-month-old back into that deeper awareness, that stronger presence, that joy of discovery.  Yes, even as she opens the tray table for the 100th time, there continues to be this joy of discovery.

You have a choice:  As you walk through your day today, are you willing to experience its moments as if you’re experiencing them for the very first time?  Allow yourself to receive every itsy-bitsy bit of data of the moment, as inconsequential as it may seem.  Place any judgment or emotion to the side; it’s not relevant right now.  Feel the awe that this presence so often creates, even in the most mundane moments.  Practice this with the mundane so you will feel it more completely and authentically in the extraordinary.

Henley and I configured for landing in San Diego, with her ever-present Santa nearby

Cover photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash; Henley photo by Mom