In 1995 I was sent to federal prison as a first-time, non-violent drug offender.  Because the chemical evidence the federal government held me accountable for had been prematurely destroyed prior to me even being able to examine it, or to have it tested by a party other than the government, I began my prison sentence with the hope of eventually winning an appeal, the reality of which would have relieved me of all or part of the duty of having to serve almost ten years of my life in prison as a first-time drug offender.

In 1997, after having filed numerous appeals, I exhausted the appeals process, thus extinguishing any hope or possibility of receiving any form of remedy for the damage sustained as a result of the evidence in my case being prematurely destroyed.  On embracing the reality of having to serve the full length of the original sentence, and the reality of having to serve time for an amount of chemical evidence that, to me, clearly exceeded that which had actually been present within the “conspiracy,” I felt a sense of injustice such that I had yet to know or feel. Such sense of injustice, combined with loss of hope, in as much as never being able to receive remedy for what had happened, sent me into a psychological tailspin.

Soon thereafter I was diagnosed and treated for “Bipolar Disorder” and depression. Then, while taking the appropriate medication, I was faced with yet another challenge. As if coming to terms with the fact that I would spend almost a decade of my life in prison weren’t enough, I was then blamed for destroying the property of a government employee. Not unlike the courtroom situation in which I had found myself back in 1995, the disciplinary hearing held in light of the charges against me also made a mockery out of both itself, and any reasonable sense of justice.

Increasingly burdened and overwhelmed with the idea of being punished beyond that which would have clearly been appropriate, given the circumstances, now for a second time, something happened to me. While in a cell by myself one night, in solitary confinement, the instance of which would have been appropriate in the event that I had actually been responsible for the charge for which I had been receiving punishment, an invisible, loving presence visited me. And it was at that moment that the overall course of my life changed forever.

Soon thereafter I had become so at peace with the fact that I was incarcerated against my will that it began to bother people who began closely observing me. Whether or not it was my overall disposition, the fact that I would whistle to myself in my cell, or that I was content with doing little more than reading, studying, taking care of myself, or helping others, those who also wanted to find peace with their situation, other people thought there was something wrong with me. An inmate once asked me, “How is it that you can be so amused, or at peace with the fact that you are here? You act like you’re almost happy about.”

The answer I then gave in response to his question and observation seemed to roll out of my mouth as if not even requiring much thought. “It would clearly be irrational for me to be upset about something that is beyond my control… and, at the end of the day, I am a rational being.  You too could be more at peace with the fact that you are here, but that requires a choice. You can choose to either be upset with what it is you see or experience, or you can choose to not be. Just try to remember this: Absent a conscious choice to suffer less, you are, in essence, consciously choosing to suffer."

To find peace in prison is a tall order. Imagine living in a place in which no one wants to live; and with prison being an almost completely drug-free environment, no one drug can offer a reliable means of, or sense of 'escape.' 

Not unlike a computer, we, as humans, are comprised of both a physical being, which could represent 'hardware,' and a psychological landscape comprised of ideas, beliefs, and conceptual understanding, or what could be viewed as the 'software.'  Just as one who becomes dissatisfied with the software of his or her computer has the option to install a newer, much more appropriate version, the best way for one to figure out whether or not his or her software is appropriate for him or her is to take it on a test drive.

Since the means by which one can alter his or her own beliefs, values, and unconscious responses to external factors and circumstances has always existed, once I figured out that I had within me the power to reduce the amount of suffering I could possibly face or endure while serving time in prison, that is exactly what I set out to do; and it was in that moment of realization, that moment of realizing that I had within me the power to be less burdened, or to be more free, that the entire experience was instantaneously transformed into something beautiful.

Kevin Taylor