The storm of people being transferred to other pods, packing up their beds, waiting anxiously to hear their name called. The storm of being inside cement walls when outdoors the birth of spring is exploding and singing in vibrant contrast. There is a storm of loud voices and endless television.
All this blended with the scent of food (if you could call it that) and the screaming voice of uncertainty. My task sometimes feels daunting.
Imagine losing your job and control over the very basic parts of life.
Not seeing your children
Possibly losing your home
Maybe being rejected by your loved ones
The voice of uncertainty is loud indeed.
We can judge the people inside those walls. I prefer to embrace them and let them know in some way they are welcome back out here with us. After all, the line between us and them at times appears to be very thin. Sometimes that division is clearly financial.
I gather my tools and sit quietly in the midst of it and breath. That is the task I see before me, bringing some calm into this storm, a brief offering of some inner peace through yoga.
I leave this place with gratitude for the littlest things that I often take for granted. That is the gift I carry forward, the gift these people and this strange place give back to me.