PRISON

"It was cramped and stank of urine, faeces, cigarette smoke and filthy, diseased human bodies. There was only enough room to move a few steps in either direction or to squat with your knees pulled to your chest, else you'd constitute a nuisance. When we laid down to sleep, we had to lie in a neat file so that most of us would fit in, head to foot, foot to head, so we didn't have to inhale one another's stinky breaths. The rest had to stand, and these were usually the weaklings or the JJCs who didn't have a prison rep.
It was awful."

Arthur Judah Angel, in his book "I REFUSED TO DIE", tells of his harrowing 18-year experience on death row in a correctional facility in Eastern Nigeria.
I read his book a couple of years ago, and as he vividly described his experience and I envisaged it, seeing what he saw and living through every day of his incarceration with him, I realised...Prison was scary as hell.

At one point in the book, he narrates his ordeal when he got into trouble with the warden of the prison and was thrown into solitary confinement for one miserable week.
Take note, "solitary confinement" is a very nice euphemism for... for lack of a better word....HELLHOLE.
It was a dark, small room with a lonely metal bucket on one side, which was  your urinal, your latrine, and your only friend.
You can't stand erect. You can't lie straight down.
The only semblance of relaxation one could get would be from sitting down (though your legs aren't gonna stretch out) with your back against the wall.
There was no window.
Only a crack in the steel door through which you'd get only enough nutrition to keep you hanging on to a thread for dear life.

See, this book freaked me out. And meeting Arthur Judah Angel in person didn't help matters. His face, his voice, it all helped to further ingrain the images I formed through his words deeper into my consciousness.
I decided to bury it. All of it. Far into the darkest recesses of my mind, I locked those images in a box and abandoned them.

Today, five years after I read the book, I remembered Mr Angel and his life in prison (He's cool, by the way. And he's one hell of an artist).
I realised I'm not so disturbed by the images anymore.
Anyway, a thought occurred to me, "Arthur Judah lived 18 years of his life in prison, on death row, never knowing on which day he'd eat his last meal and take that damned walk to the hangman's rope. But some of us, though we've never been incarcerated, have lived 5, 10, 15, 18 years... in prisons of our own."

You see, every man is limited by the confines of his mind...imprisoned by the constraints of his thoughts.
The Jailers? Fear, Doubt, Procrastination, Carelessness, Insecurity, Over dependence, bad habits, Pornography....the list goes on and on.
You'd be astounded by how long it gets...different strokes for different folks I guess.

On this quest of mine in finding myself, I've realised that all the while, I've had the keys to my prison doors!
We all do.
But...I'm not so keen on leaving.
It might be dangerous out there.
You see, it's comfortable in here. This prison isn't a hell hole... far from it. I look around my cell and hey, there's a flat screen TV in here, a high-end Sony home theater system, a nice Persian rug under my stocking feet, cool books on a small stool with a glass of Italian white wine.
It's comfortable in here.
Not all prisons are scary and awful.

But Hey, it's still a PRISON!
And hey Precious... YOU. HAVE. THE. KEYS.
It's time to unlock these doors and move out!
JAILBREAK time, people.
Petty comforts are done.
Easy street is over.
It's time to explore.
It's time to pursue.
It's time to DOMINATE.

Live. Love. Matter.