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

Late last summer, Eric went “man down,” meaning he was wheeled out of his cell on a stretcher, into an ambulance and off to the hospital.  We had no news regarding his condition or whereabouts for three months when he magically reappeared in our Circle.

Eric is a 70+ year old Vietnam vet who has witnessed his body degrade and shut down for years now due to Agent Orange-induced Parkinson’s.  He sometimes shakes like a leaf and can be quite unsteady on his legs, when he is able to stand up.  Every time he speaks, we notice the effort he places on articulation.

This past Tuesday, he told us a story from that 3-month absence.  At the hospital, once he had been stabilized, the doctors had said that Eric would likely not walk again due to the progression of the Parkinson’s.  Eric responded “To heck with that!  I’ll be walking in a few weeks.”  And sure enough, a few weeks later, he was back on his wobbly legs, getting out of bed on his own.  And a few weeks after that, he made his reappearance into our Circle.

As a team, we probed into what allowed Eric to beat the doctor’s prognosis in a few short weeks.  And the answer is the same as in the popular Lord of the Rings clip featuring Gandalf’s “You shall not pass,” which we view every time we speak about the second of the 7 ingredients of brilliance: Commit.

Most of us may say we’re committed… but our actions reveal that this commitment is only skin- or words-deep.  When push comes to shove, we buckle and cave to the resistance.  This is the equivalent of Gandalf turning to face the Balrog, claiming “you cannot pass” (as he does first), to then be overwhelmed by fear and concede with “Ok, ok. Go ahead.”

And yet, Gandalf, shortly after this first “You cannot pass,” declares with all of his power and might “You! Shall not! Pass!”  What happened in the few seconds between these two statements?  What made the second statement so powerful that it shattered the bridge?

Gandalf claims and stands in his identity.  “I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow!”  He knows that he knows that he knows who he is in his highest brilliance.  THIS is the source of the power Gandalf exudes as he declares that the Balrog shall not pass.

Eric demonstrated this exact same power to us on Tuesday.  “No, this Parkinson’s does not define who I am and what I do.  I am a child of God, living in his power and in his abundance.”  Eric believes this so strongly that no other truth receives the light of day in his heart.

 We witness this determination when Eric speaks with poised articulation and wisdom, when he stands up for every one of our closing circles, when he tames his hands that have decided to tremble more than the task allows, etc.  Nothing about Eric is defined by the Parkinson’s that is eating away at his body.

It is not Gandalf’s “You shall not pass” or Eric’s “I will walk again” that bring these two assertions into reality.  It is the strength and power that flow from their crystal clear understanding of who they are.

You have a choice:  Do you stand in this same power and influence?  If so, bravo for knowing in every fiber of your being who you are in your highest brilliance.  If not, the answer doesn’t come from trying really hard – pushing, shoving and striving – until you see the desired outcome (which usually gets undone as soon as you release the pressure).  Get to know who you are.  Journey to identify your brilliance.  The answer always lies there first. 

PS: While Eric may, at first glance, look frail, mumbly, trembly and wobbly, you now know why we regularly declare him to be our Circle's greatest Bad Ass.

After two stunning first Tuesdays in our Donovan circles, a recent volunteer asked, “How can I help?”  The residents answered:  “You already have.”

Like so many guests before her, she had a puzzled look that betrayed a “But I haven’t done anything” thought.

I suspect she was expecting responses like “Tell others what you’ve learned” (which she will do anyway), “Lobby politicians for greater rehabilitative change,” “Protest excessive sentencing,” “Write a book that gets into Oprah’s book club,” etc.  So many of us believe that the greatest help comes from action.  And that those actions have to be “big” and “influential.”

The Donovan folks’ actual response (paraphrased): “You already have.  You came here with open curiosity, interested in meeting us.  You have allowed yourself to see us for the human beings that we are.  You’ve had the courage to recognize and verbalize your unconscious, preconceived beliefs and then to release them.”

Think about the last time you were grieving the loss of a precious loved one.  What helped the most?  For most of us, it was the kind hug more than any words.  It was people sitting by our side, squeezing our hand, allowing us to cry on their shoulder, holding space while we travelled our rollercoaster of grief.  If we asked for any action, it often was help with the mundane: cooking, cleaning, getting flowers, returning phone calls, etc.

This importance of these actions we label as small is why, instead of celebrating our family Christmas on Christmas Eve like I’ve done since a child, I’ll be at Donovan next Tuesday (which is Christmas Eve).  And yes, I’ll also be there New Year’s Eve, the following Tuesday.

We’ll be sharing the most important gifts of all – presence, time, attention, care, belonging, togetherness.  With my presence on this important day, I’ll be saying “you matter.”

The greatest impact is usually in the “small.”

Remember this during this holiday season.

You have a choice:  As most of us get quite busy with actions of gift buying, tree decorating, holiday planning, house cleaning, family hosting, dinner preparing, etc., remember that, to all those you wish to bless, the greatest gift is your presence and your heart.  Take a deep breath.  Infuse all your actions of this priceless gift.

These newsletters usually contain monthly celebrations and insights about the folks inside Donovan (and clients outside).  This month, with Thanksgiving exactly one week shy of my 9-year anniversary of my first time inside Donovan, I share some of my own reflections and celebrations.

Nine years.  It’s starting to add up.  I’ve spent over 4000 hours inside those walls.  Enough to experience quite a bit of dynamics, culture, life experiences, etc. inside while still having an external perspective and the privilege to sleeping in my own bed at night (though for years the folks have joked that I must have a bunk there).

I’m neither an insider nor an outsider.  And at the same time, I’m both. This in-between place is my favorite place to be: capturing an intimate understanding that comes from being deeply invested, while keeping an emotional distance and relative impartiality.

While I’ve learned innumerable lessons on this 9-year journey, each feeling more precious than the next, I highlight three.

First, follow the nudges.  These nudges are your brilliance calling you into alignment with whom you were always meant to be.  For those of you who remember, this journey started for me because, during the summer of 2015, I heard the words “go to prison.”  Prison was not on my strategic plan; prison was not on my bucket list; heck, prison wasn’t even on my radar.  Yet, the nudge was there, gentle and persistent.  I chose to release all my rational stops, follow it and it opened up a new and amazing life; it’s even at Donovan that I met fellow volunteer Pete who became my husband six years later.

Second, I believe that every one of us – at our deepest core – craves to be and express our brilliance, meaning our essence, our highest self, whom we were always meant to be.  We won’t all use those words but, if we dig underneath the motivations that drive us at our core, it’s a desire for significance, for impact, to align with our deepest, most profound heart’s desires.  One of my greatest privileges is to create spaces – now both inside and outside – in which we uncover and cultivate this unique brilliance in each of us.

Third, the only divisions that exist are the ones we’ve created.  Fundamentally, nothing separates me from the Donovan folks - or any other human being, for this matter.  Though you could find a ton of ways that we’re different (me growing up between multiple countries and them in places like south central LA, or me graduating from some top schools and them often not graduating high school, to name a couple obvious ones), dig more deeply underneath the different circumstances and you’ll find the same craving, same emotional woundings and same fundamental motivations.

Our spaces – both inside Donovan and out – are where we reunite what’s been separated by creating bridges between these created divisions and disconnected worlds.  We reweave together the pieces that have been disconnected, hurt, wounded and cut off so we can find our desired wholeness again. First, within ourselves, then within our community, then across groups.

Learning these insights and applying them to my life has opened me up to greater harmony, peace, love, wellbeing, wholeness, connection, community and, like I said, a life I would have never imagined possible just a few years ago. I'm deeply grateful for these gifts and look forward to the continued growth.

You have a choice: This season invites us into gratitude. What gifts have you received in the past year? What wells up your heart in gratitude? Go dig deeper than the "obvious" such as family, vacations, new jobs or opportunities, etc. I'd love to hear them. Please do feel free to reply with your own list of yumminess and learnings.