Rifle Correctional Facility: A Volunteer's Testimony of Transformation

As we approach the entrance to Rifle Correctional Center, I can’t help but think, “This is the most beautiful prison I’ve ever seen”.

Of course, I’ve never actually seen a prison in real life before.

The whole situation – my being about to participate in a two-day Authentic Relating workshop with 20 inmates – is a definite first for me. And despite the stunning scenery and unexpectedly friendly staff, I can feel myself gently shaking from the inside out. It’s a familiar anxiety for me, of something in my body trying to shield me from potential attack – but the attack I’m worried about isn’t physical, and doesn’t have anything to do with being afraid of the inmates themselves.

What I’m really worried about is not being good enough for them. I’m shielding myself against the threat of my own stories that, “Maybe they’ll see me as having nothing to offer,” or even worse, as having questionable intentions. I try to focus on my breathing and simply observe the thoughts, reminding myself of my intention for the day (and the first practice of Authentic Relating): Welcome Everything.

To my surprise, my anxiety begins quickly fading as soon as the procession of 20 men in green scrubs enters the room, almost every one stopping to say hello, smile, and shake our hands before making their way to the circle of chairs at the center of the room. We all settle in, and I start making small talk with the inmate next to me: a man with a shy, boyish demeanor, red cheeks, a big smile, and tattoos around his eyes.

I’m suddenly amused at the obviousness of my realization that I’m not the only one who is having a new (and potentially nerve-wracking) experience. (In fact, one inmate would later confirm that the fear I had was mutual: He had apparently been worried that we would come in seeing them all as “pieces of shit” – a judgment he was apparently quite used to receiving.)

Opening circle soon starts, and as everyone introduces themselves, I am blown away by the presence of these men: Part of me had been expecting, at best, skepticism or resistance (at worst, mockery or hostility); yet what I was sensing was openness, gentleness, vulnerability… and even a sense of genuine gratitude for our being there. By the end of introductions, the energy in the room feels electric.

It’s hard to find words for how powerful and rewarding the next two days were. Authentic Relating has been a central part of my life for the past nearly three years now, and back home in Toronto I lead Authentic Relating “Connection Labs” for the general public every other week; in addition to the incredible impact it’s had on my own life, I’ve witnessed the impact of AR on a multitude of others, in both subtle and more obvious ways.

But for me, until this point, AR had always been contained within the fairly small bubble of my local Toronto community. Our two-day workshop in Rifle was incredibly validating, in that it confirmed what I already believed so deeply about the potential for growth and connection that AR practices offer – but on the other hand, it was also incredibly surprising, in how quickly and easily the material was welcomed and integrated by our participants.

As one inmate put it, “We’re hungry for this.”

What exactly is the “this”? Of course, I can’t speak for any of the inmates themselves, but a few things stood out to me in this regard. Firstly, the hunger for the curiosity of another. Near the beginning of the workshop, we play a popular AR partner game called Empathy, in which each partner gets a chance to express something that’s on their heart (in this case, “Something that’s important enough to me to be here for two days”), while the other person is instructed to simply listen as fully as possible, reflect, and then share impact (“What I’m starting to get about you” and/or, “Where I felt you the most”).

My partner for this game was a man who had been incarcerated for nearly two decades, and was set to be released within the month. I was moved and intrigued by his unwavering gaze as he shared his experience with me, and what I perceived as his deep desire to be known.

During my own turn to share, it was clear that he wanted me to ask him questions about what he had shared – anything at all that I might want to know – more than he wanted to hear about why I was there. I realized that in a “normal” AR context, I would likely feel missed, disappointed, or even irritated around my partner’s apparent lack of curiosity, yet in this context I was struck by what I perceived as a deep need to receive someone’s undivided attention, interest, and questions.

Looking back on it now, I feel a bit incredulous at how rare of an occurrence these things must be in a prison, and how deep and desperate that longing might go after so long without it being met.

Another hunger I perceived: Play.

On day two of the workshop, participants are led through an activity around setting context, in which two partners each have a chance to create a “game” to play with the other person. Even though I’ve played this game many times in my AR community back home, I was a bit nervous about coming up with something on the spot – either that I’d be totally blank, or that my ideas might be perceived as silly or stupid by my partner. Yet once again, this fear was far from the reality. It was immediately apparent that my partner was raring to go… to play ANYTHING at all.

Within seconds, we were doing jumping jacks, crawling around on the floor, making animal noises, and even singing. It seemed that anything that popped into either of our heads was fair game, and the desire – even urgency – within him to let go in this way felt palpable.

Afterwards, I was told that our crawling around on the floor was “pushing it” (i.e., that at another prison, that wouldn’t fly, and we could be kicked out). This was both a disturbing eye-opener to how unsafe it is for people in correctional environments just to “play,” as well as a reminder of what an honor and gift it was to be able to share such a simple human experience with these men.

These are only a few of what felt like a slew of powerful and beautiful experiences over our two days with the inmates. The workshop took place one month ago today, and writing about it now, I am aware of how close it remains to my heart. Some of our participants at Rifle expressed that the experience had been life-changing, and how touched they were by our willingness to be with them and to see them.

I can whole-heartedly attest that this experience goes both ways: That I myself feel transformed, both by each of the inmates themselves, and by sharing in the vulnerability of the experience in its entirety with them. Deep gratitude to Authentic Relating International, and to the staff at Rifle Correctional Facility, for making this possible… so honored to be doing this work, and so excited for all the possibilities in store!