Summer 2005

I’m not sure if it was Friday or Saturday night, but it was definitely Memorial Day Weekend.  I’d been drinking all day with my cousin and then decided to drive around the corner to pick up some blunts for the evening’s festivities.  I never made it back from the store.  Instead, I was pulled over and arrested for driving under the influence.  I was then booked and transported to Hillsborough County Jail in Tampa, FL.

I’d been arrested before so I wasn’t too concerned initially, but when they asked me to strip and gave me an orange jumpsuit and sandals, I quickly realized I was in uncharted territory.  As the alcohol wore off, the fear grew.  My thoughts started racing.  My breathing became erratic.  At one point, I remember thinking that in order to survive I was going to have to start a fight or act crazy.  I also remember being very clear that fighting wasn’t my best option, since I was all of 130lbs soaking wet at the time.  

I found a spot against a wall where I could sit down and keep everything in front of me.  It provided a little bit of security, but not much.  There were all kinds of dudes that I didn’t want to be hanging out with, in all directions.  As a suburban NJ kid, I might have talked a lot of sh*t, but I was not built for this.

My mind was racing.  I was dehydrated and detoxing.  The only thing that they had to drink were little cartons of skim milk (that came with the bologna sandwiches).  I was freaking out.  I also had no clue how I was getting out of there.  The last time I’d spoke with my family was almost six months earlier when I’d told them all to f*ck off and ran to Florida.  Sh*t was bad and not getting any better any time soon.

Then, out of nowhere, I thought, maybe I should meditate.  I hadn’t had much practice or any real instruction at that point in my life, so I didn’t really know what I was doing.  But it seemed like a good idea so I went with it.  I just started taking deep breaths and focusing on my breath as it came in and out of my body.  At first, understandably, I kept my eyes open due to my immediate surroundings and all the colorful characters in my vicinity.  Eventually though, I relaxed a little bit and my eyes closed.

Time passed.  Not sure how much, but the next time I opened my eyes, there were two guys sitting near me.  It took me by surprise.  One dude had a gnarly neck tattoo.  I felt the fear rise up.  I took another peak to assess my situation.  Was I going to have to fight after all?  But then I realized that both guys were sitting with their eyes closed.  They were meditating too!  What a wonderful little jail sangha we had created.

At some point during my meditation session with my new friends (we never actually spoke with each other), my mind became more quiet and relaxed.  I realized that I was going to have to call my parents if I wanted to leave anytime soon.  I noticed the judgments and the resistance that came with that idea.  I also noticed that when I didn’t feed the judgment and resist the feelings, they left just like they came.  It was pretty wild.

I eventually called my parents.  My mom got that middle-of-the-night call she’d always dreaded.  I heard my mom prepare herself to receive the news that her son was dead.  Her tone and inflection cut through my being and delivered the final necessary blow to my spirit.  That moment is what I’d consider my bottom.  My parents bailed me out a few hours later, once again, and a month or so later I was back in New Jersey.

This wasn’t the end of my active addiction unfortunately, as I continued getting high for a couple more months before finally starting to attend therapy & twelve step meetings, but it was the first time I recognized the benefits of meditation.