the cities (a.k.a. the prison cities)

8/8/2019 The Cities (a.k.a. The Prison Cities)

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SCREEN TREATMENT

THE CITIES

(AKA, THE PRISON CITIES)

Written by

Michael Erlewine

Michael Erlewine315 Marion Avenue

Big Rapids, MI [email protected]

Copyright 2001 by Michael Erlewine

Registered at the Writers Guild of America


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This is an extended (non-standard) treatmentfor film that is in the general lineage of BladeRunner, a no-tongue-in-cheek drama, with nocamp. A finished screenplay also exists, but toget an initial impression, it is hoped that thistreatment will suffice. The film takes places inthe future, but not very far into the future.


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Background for The Prison Cities(establishing)

Our story begins after the election ofRepublican Colin Powell in 2016 at the end ofwhat amounted to a three-candidate campaign.Colin Powell eventually emerged as aRepublican candidate for the presidency in2016. This was not entirely unexpected, seeinghis growing differences with Barack Obama

after the end of the war in Afghanistan andIraq. However at the time it was a surprise ofthe Republican Party when Powell declaredhimself in the primaries and managed to beatthe best that the Republicans had to offer.

More unexpected was the defection of SenatorJohn McCain from the Republican Party andhis decision to run (even with his age) as an

independent against both Powell andDemocratic candidate, Senator Hillary Clinton.In the ensuing melee, with the Obamaadministration polling some very low numbersand the country still feeling very conservative,McCain and Hillary Clinton lost to Powell in thegeneral election. With the voters split threeways, the election did go to Powell, but by aVERY narrow margin. There was no mandate.

The rise of John McCain and the growingnumber of independents caused not onlysevere polarization within the country itself, butalso led the way to some never-before-experienced acts of political compromise. And,although McCain and Clinton were ultimately

defeated, Powell was forced to compromise ona number of hot issues to pull a majority of thevoters to his side.


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Chief among these compromises was thePrison Reform Act of 2016, a favorite of John

McCain, and certainly the most striking of thepolitical results to come out of that election,and one with, as we shall detail here, far-reaching consequences.

During the campaign crowded prisonconditions and the ever-increasing expense ofsupporting criminals sentenced to life once

again became a major issue. It was clear to thenation from McCain's statistics that we werepaying an exorbitant amount to keep all of thecriminals with life-sentences-without-parole --something like a million dollars each andcounting. This concept of convicts-as-millionaires at public expense struck a rawnerve with the public and became a key

campaign issue. The total amount spent on theU.S. prison system was staggering (some 40billion a year!) and this number continued tocapture the popular imagination during thisdifficult election.

The concept of creating an entire prison city forconvicts with life-sentences first appearedtoward the end of that presidential campaign.The idea was startling in its simplicity:

Set aside a large area of land in one of the lessdensely populated states to build a new kind ofprison, actually an enclosed prison system thatcontained within itself a number of completecities devoted entirely to convicts and hopefullyeventually self-sustaining. And this prison was

designed exclusively for lifers, a one-waystreet. If you go in, you stay in for life - noparole. And entry was by inmates choice,


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although it soon became the case that inmateswith sentences of even 20-30 years chose to

go to the cities prison for life rather than staycooped up in a cell for the best years of theirlives. Another factor in all this was the failure ofthe courts to rehabilitate criminals and keepthem from quote "re-infecting the public,"unquote. The judicial system as a whole duringthat time was not an object of pride, but moreone of derision.

The debates over the Cities Project were fierceand the whole country got involved. In the heatof the campaign came a groundswell ofcitizens who were simply fed up with the costof imprisonment and the various non-functioning release programs. No politiciandared oppose this issue and those few who did

soon regretted it. This popular outcry helped topush the bill through both the House andSenate soon after Powell 's election, and itbecame a law -- a new kind of federal prisonsystem, actually: prison cities.

A site in Utah was originally chosen by thegovernment, but this was universally opposedby the citizens there, and, in the end, it was adesolate area of south-central Colorado thatwas finally selected and with the full support ofthe Colorado legislature, except, of course, forthose in the immediate area of the prison. Theprison has become a source of pride for thatstate.

The final area selected consists of some 2000

square miles of land located about 100 milessouth of Denver, actually a rectangle 33 miles(east to west) and 60 miles (north to south).


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This became the site for USP Colorado (UnitedStates Penitentiary Colorado), which soon

became known as the Prison Cities, and finally,just The Cities. What this area amounts to isthe upper part of the San Luis Valley, a four-thousand mile, semiarid desert - the largestalpine valley in the world. The valley floor sitsat an average elevation of over 7,000 feet (amile and a half high) and gets less than fiveinches of rainfall each year. The valley area is

surrounded by mountains on all sides,including the majestic Sangre De Christos(Blood of Christ) chain that runs north/southand forms the entire eastern side of that valley,with peaks over 14,000 feet high. And this isoutside Tibet!

This awesome piece of real estate to view is

very difficult to live in, with little or no rain,extremely high elevation, and desert-likeconditions year round. It was used forcenturies by no less than twelve NativeAmerican tribes for summer-time hunting, butpretty much abandoned by all in the harshwinters. The Native Americans named theregion the "Bloodless Valley" and declared it a

sacred place, which included the "Sipapu," theoriginal place of emergence of humanity.

WORLD FASCINATION

Americans (and eventually the world) weremore than just a little interested in life in theprison cities. In fact, from early on, almosteveryone on the outside was fascinated and

thirsted for news about what life was likeinside. It soon became a kind of nationalobsession that, even today, rivals almost any


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other news events. There is a 24-hour cablechannel devoted to life in the Cities. Cities

newspapers are in publication and are aswidely subscribed to and read by those on theoutside as by those within the prison. In fact,outside subscriptions outnumbered inside usealmost from the first day. Like some forbiddenfruit, average Americans can't get enough ofthis strange new society. Rumors about city lifesoon reached and today maintain a high-water

mark in the tabloids. Of course, much of this ispure speculation.

The cities were never cut off from news fromoutside. In fact, every attempt has been madeto make available to the inmates all of themusic, movies, books, newspapers, etc., thatare available on the outside. They have access

to TV, VCRs, cable, everything any otherAmerican has, if they can afford it. At leastthese are available to those who have themoney to purchase them through the largewarehouse facilities reminiscent of military PXstores. There is a prison PX store at each ofthe two main gateways. And of course, thereare all manner of smaller stores and

businesses within the cities, although many aremore reminiscent of the kind of shops onemight find in third-world countries.

In the beginning, after the outside militarypolice either quite or were savaged,communications between the cities and theoutside world changed dramatically. Directinformation coming in and out of the citiesmore or less just ceased or was carefullyaltered by the prison political machine. It


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became hard to know what was reallyhappening inside and what was hype that

those inside wanted you to hear. A series ofundercover "lifer-spies" introduced by thegovernment to gather information ended updead or barely escaped with their lives. In time,the primary information and most accurateindicator (even today) as to what goes oninside is the examination of the endless creditand debit sheets that accumulate from

providing raw materials and other sundries tothe cities in exchange for goods produced incity factories. It is only recently that the citieshave become more or less self-supporting.And, as we all know too well, this experiment inwhat amounted to self-sustaining prison lifehas become the talk of the globe and aparticular point of pride in this country.

THE COURT BATTLES

It is still not that many years ago that the firstcourt battles took place -- challenges thatarose from civilians who wanted to enter thecities for family reasons, out of sheer curiosity,as reporters, or just for adventure -- whatever.Certain women, in particular, having heard howmuch in-demand their sex is in the cities,naturally wanted to go there. The initial answerwas, of course, no. Federal officials wereadamant. This could never be permitted. Therewas just no way for an average citizen to visitthe cities. After all, they argued, this is a prison!

However, that was not the answer the public

really wanted to hear, whose virtual love affairwith life in the Cities was only increasing. Inextreme cases (and more and more frequently)


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crimes were committed just to gain entrance tothe prison system. In brief, interest in the cities

became just too great for the officials to ignore.In the end, as we now know, the furor onlygrew and this issue went all the way to the U.S.Supreme Court: Could a U.S. citizen, providedthey signed a waiver of all their civil rights,enter the cities on a temporary pass withouthaving committed a crime? Could they be

permitted to visit their relatives or just go thereto satisfy their own curiosity?

The prison cities are not a normal prison (so itwas argued), but a new type of society and anycitizen should be able to (at their own risk ofcourse) visit there, just for the hell of it or forwhatever family reasons they might have. Aftera protracted national debate, and fueled by

pure politics, the Supreme Court, underextreme pressure from all sides, voted yes,and a new era in the life of the Cities and theU.S. began.

TOURISTS

"Tourists" (as these non-criminals areappropriately termed by the inmates) go

through an elaborate process before they areallowed entry. They are finger printed, bloodtyped, psychologically tested, photographed,and thoroughly searched. Their dental recordsand retinal scans are taken. This elaboratetesting process is so that they can be identifiedand eventually released when they want out. Inaddition to a stiff processing and court fee, theysign away all rights of suing anyone, anytime.


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Touring the cities is currently the rage,particularly among the younger generation (you

have to be over 18 to enter the cities). Perhapsthe last great adventure area on earth, it ismore than just a little dangerous, for there is noguarantee that you will ever emerge alive andin one piece. And there is no one to protectyou. No appeal. Nothing.

And tourists are instantly recognized and

despised by the lifers on one hand and valuedfor the money and connections with the outsidethey bring with them on the other. The citieshave become a bizarre tourist spot. Weddingsand honeymoons there are perpetual food forthe National Inquirer and other tabloids. Manybiker groups from the outside make a tour ofthe cities a mandatory part of initiation. All

manner of inmate tour groups have sprung up,offering tours of the city along with guaranteedpersonal protection. The Internet is full of them.Inmates even take out ads in nationalpublications. They are waiting for you as youcome in. Ignore them at your peril.

THE SAN LUIS VALLEY AREA

A pretty much non-issue was the valley'shistory as one of the premiere spots in the U.S.for UFO spotting. The public could have caredless and the main UFO watching station inHooper, Colorado ended up just outside thesouth entrance to the prisons, and has donewell for that. Today it is making more moneyselling prison t-shirts than it ever did UFO

paraphernalia.


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More problematical was the area surroundingthe town of Crestone, Colorado, which for

some reason, had become, over the years,home for a wide variety of new-agecommunities, including many different styles ofBuddhism (Zen, Tibetan, etc.), Hindu groups,retired hippies, psychics, and even amonastery of Carmelite monks. The hue andcry was so strong on this issue that the town ofCrestone (some 40 residents) originally

considered as part of the prison territory wascut out of the plan and the perimeter modifiedto jog around and to the south of that town. Ofcourse the inhabitants still were not happybecause the perimeter wall still remained justtoo close for them and did much to eclipse anysense of beauty (and real estate value) in thearea. Anyway, that is how it came down.

Last, but not least, was the inclusion of a goodshare of the northern half of the Great SandDunes National Monument, a fifty-square milepile of sand that almost no one had ever heardof, much less visited. Of course there wasbrief, but furious, screeching on the side ofconversationalists, but in the political climate of

that time, a deaf ear was turned to theseprotests. The dune area has the highest sanddunes in the world, some reaching over 700feet. Almost all of the commercial aspects ofthe park, buildings, entrances, etc. are in thesouthern half of the park, anyway, and remainopen today as they did before. Very fewvisitors had ever ventured to the northern half

or for that matter more than a mile or two fromthe entrance. It is just mountains of sand and


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there is plenty there for both the park and theprison.

The small towns of Cottonwood, Duncan, andLiberty, Colorado, little more than ghost towns,were more or less commandeered and all theirinhabitants well paid to move south or west towhere the climate and land were betteranyway. The residents were thrilled for anexcuse to relocate and an exodus began

almost immedietly. This potentially litigioussituation became another non-issue, whichleaves the Tibetans, an issue that would not goaway.

THE TIBETANS

Sometime in the late 1970s a group of TibetanBuddhists had been given a considerable

amount of land just south of Crestone. Theland fell within the area set aside for the prison.Of course these Tibetans were offered allmanner of encouragement to leave the area.They refused. Not only did they own land, butthey had established a retreat center and moreimportant yet had built a 40-foot stupa, which isa Buddhist monument of some kind. The Tashi

Gomang Stupa was erected in the foothills ofthe Sangre de Christo Mountains and towersabove the plains below. It can be seen shiningfrom almost anywhere in the valley.

As it turns out, the leader of this TibetanBuddhist lineage, the Gyalwa Karmapa,himself came to the Crestone area in 1980 andpersonally selected and blessed the land. TheKarmapa is like the Dalai Lama, only he is the


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head of another Tibetan Buddhist sect, theKarma Kagyu.

To make a long and somewhat-legal storyshort, the Tibetans simply refused to leave. Noamount of reasoning or money incentives hadany effect. Most of their western students, whohad been living and working with the Tibetans,thanks to a lot of finagling and"encouragement," finally moved out and on

with their lives, but the actual Tibetans (andothers, who soon joined them) would not selland would not move.

This small group of Tibetans (we could almostcall them refugees) were not about to budge.For them, this was sacred ground, landconsecrated by their leader the GyalwaKarmapa himself just before he died, and they

had been instructed to remain there and toestablish a monastery devoted to medicine andhealing. And that is what they did, but notwithout a struggle.

It was a fierce debate that got nationalattention and the prison authorities, whoassumed at one point they had rights they did

not concerning this issue, went so far as todemolish a small monastery and retreat centerin the foothills of the Sangre de Christomountains. And there was an attempt toremove some of the Tibetans for lack of propervisas. And it was this foolish act on thegovernments part that finally turned the publictide against them and led to the Tibetans being

allowed to remain on the land within the prisonconfines, mind you, but at their own risk, of


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course. They were free to leave the prison atany time, but few ever did.

In the end the Tibetans gave up any rights theyhad (not that they had many, anyway) inexchange for just being left alone. And in timesome of the Tibetans moved even higher upthe Sangre De Christo slopes. Where they livetoday is mostly inaccessible, even to the mostdetermined Cities dwellers, and they have

been left, for many years now, virtually tothemselves and continue to maintain a lay aswell as a monastic community. The prisonauthorities went so far as to declare theextreme eastern area of the prison land asmore-or-less off limits to convicts without aspecial pass. It is referred to as The Sector.Few prison inmates ever went there with or

without a pass.THE PRISON AREA

To sum it up, a 22x60 square-mile (some 2000square miles) section of Colorado desert wasselected, its residents relocated, and theenormous task of building the perimeter wallbegun. Actually, there were two perimeter

fences spaced some distance apart. A high,inner, electrified fence, and an outer perimeterfence with razor wire (located a half mile away)which contains an elaborate system of high-tech motion detectors that automaticallymonitor anything larger than a coyote thatmoves on land or sky within the flat desert areabetween the fences. Electric underground

sensors monitor attempts to tunnel and a smallair force of attack helicopters stand ready tohandle threats from above or attempts to cross


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the zone between the perimeter fences. Likefiremen, these helicopters are poised to

scramble at a moment's notice. To date, noconvict has ever escaped the prison. Few haveeven tried.

The Cities (as they came to be called) is aplace where criminals with long sentencescould opt to be transferred and wheresomething approaching normal life is supposed

to be possible. Early release programs andparoles for those receiving a life sentence arenow obsolete. The death penalty (also a thingof the past) has been replaced almost alwaysby life imprisonment. And, although it is usuallya voluntary decision on the part of the prisoner,

just about every lifer opts for life in the prisoncities instead of spending the rest of their life in

a single cell, with virtually no hope of parole.Due to the Prison Act of 2013, the normalprison populations were drastically reduced.Inmates who chose life in the prison citiescould, should they change their mind, appeal tobe returned to standard prison cells on theoutside. Few ever did. Only the criminallyinsane were not given access to prison cities.

An enormous amount of taxpayer money wassaved which had been previously wasted. Notonly did the prison cities not cost taxpayers,but they eventually even turned a profit.

STERILIZATION

A very unpopular requirement for admission tothe prison is sterilization. Again, no one isforced to undergo it, but if a lifer wants to besent to the Cities, he has to produce proof of


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sterilization or undergo the procedure atgovernment expense. If you opt for life in the

cities, my friends, your child-making years areover. There were to be no children in the prisoncities. At least that was the intent.

And through the various prison exchangeprograms with other countries, a great numberof foreign nationals today reside in the citiesprison. Dozens of nations are represented. It is

a veritable Tower of Babel.CONSTRUCTING THE PRISON CITIES

At any rate, you now have the idea of theprison cities at their inception. It was simple.The outer perimeter walls were built, at aconsiderable cost (but very quickly), and threemid-sized cities and a number of small towns

were confiscated and brought up to code. Anyexisting structures remained as they were andwere utilized. The entire prison area is roughlysquare shaped (actually a rectangle) boundedby the Sangre de Christo Mountains on theeast and the semi-arid desert on the west.There are only two gates to the prison, onelocated at the northwest corner of the prison

and the other at the southwest corner some 22miles apart.

Near each of these gates is a city named,appropriately enough, "North Gate" and "SouthGate." Somewhere between these twogateway cities and more centrally located isCenter City, a much smaller place. There alsocurrently some attempt to establish a town inthe dunes area called Dune City, but it isunclear when or if this will be completed. As


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you can see, not a lot of time has been wastedin naming these places.

Also of some interest is what is called the"perimeter zone," a line of demarcation runningon a slight diagonal from north to south on theeastern side of the prison area, the onebordering the mountains. Effectively, theperimeter zone marks off the extreme easternpart of the prison area as an area that the

prisoners cannot travel into without a permit.The reason for the zone is simply that theeastern edge of the prison area is bounded bythe Sangre de Christo mountain chain and ismuch more difficult for the government to sealoff and protect. It is also where the Tibetanslive. Inmates wishing to travel in the "Sector" asit is now called need the equivalent of a visa

and their movements are closely monitored. Itis difficult to get a permit to enter the Sector."

The construction of the actual cities within theprison would take a small book in itself, but inbrief, it was a kind of field day for U.S.construction firms, who flocked to bid and soonset up shop on the alpine plain. And it allhappened very quickly, in something short oftwo years. These three cities were similar inmany respects to any average US city, onlywith more built-in industrial strength. And, sincethey were built in one fell swoop, certaineconomies of scale were achieved.

One of the downsides to this is that everythingpretty much looks the same in there, but after

all, so people have commented, it is a prison.Even so, these newly-built cities are, for themost part, new or newly refurbished, and every


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effort was made to provide all of the standardcomforts hardware stores, bakeries, and

factories, you name it, at least in somerudimentary form. The plan is that thesecriminals -- these lifers -- can spend their timetogether in a more productive and less-expensive-to-the-government fashion than inthe more traditional prison systems where theylived their lives out in bleak cells at publicexpense. Remember that the cost of

supporting the state and federal prisonsystems in the year 2000 was some 40 billiondollars a year! Of course, these were not allcriminals with long sentences.

Although designed with state-of-the-arttechnology in mind as regards water andsewage and so on, once the cities were

established all did not continue in that style oraccording to plan. It is true that the centralparts of the cities are new, but sprawlingsuburbs (sound familiar?) soon sprung uparound the cities. More like shanty towns, thereseems to have been no attempt to followbuilding codes in these areas and eventuallyno city inspection or code compliance. This is

not how it was planned, but is just how it hasturned out.

These add-on suburbs resemble what wemight expect to find in third-world countries,where any old kind of building or shack will do.And each street leading from the cities is linedwith makeshift stores and debris. The refuseproblem within the prison is fierce.

Although the cities themselves were designedfor modern garbage and trash collection, in fact


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much of this never took place. It started outwell, but corruption and many other factors

(some of which we will detail later on) took overwith the net result that today there is a severerefuse problem. It is not so bad in the newlybuilt cities, but the so-called suburbs are out ofcontrol in this regard. In a word, there is almostno garbage or trash pickup, which has resultedin huge standing mounds of refuse establishedalmost randomly, here and there. These piles

can reach eight and ten feet in height and inthe summer months are covered withvegetation, and the smell of this refuse flowthrough the streets like vaporous rivers.Traveling through these areas meansnegotiating these random piles of refuse. Notpleasant.

Once inside the prison, lifers are given theopportunity to work (or not to work) at a varietyof occupations. Like all of us here, they areexpected to find work, and, after a few years,all supplemental food from the outside wasgradually discontinued, replaced with a veryactive exchange program of prison-producedgoods-for goods, foods, etc. from the outside. It

had been the intention of the authorities tocreate an environment as much like outside lifeas is possible. And it works pretty well. Ofcourse, there will always be the hopelessquality of life in the cities. And, while it is truethat their freedom is still limited, they are free,at least compared to living in a 6x10 foot cell.

Training schools and other educationalopportunities have been made available, but sofar under utilized. And from the first, the prison


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cities have been co-ed, although in thebeginning most of the occupants were men.

During those first years women were at anextreme premium. There just were not enoughof them to go around. Even today, there areabout one third as many women as men,although the percentage of women to mencontinues to climb.

No firearms or weapons of any kind are

allowed in the prison cities. Although kniveswere soon readily available on the street,handguns, rifles, and automatic weapons werenever present in any significant quantities, atleast until somewhat recently. How they got inthere is a matter of some speculation andconcern.

There are three separate decent sized cities

within the perimeter, but only two of theseacted as portals, North Gate and South Gate,which also serve as an area where lifers canreceive a limited amount of visitors, goods fromoutside could flow in, and through which goodsproduced in the prison cities can be exported.

THE SQUADS

The only armed persons in the cities are thepolice squadrons. With a minimum of fourofficers per squadron, the squads (as they arecalled) sometimes number upward of 20 or 30officers (or more) when there are riot-likeconditions. Fully armed, the squads make onlya minimum effort to keep the peace. Theyregulate the worst disturbances. Your averagebar fight or murder is not worth a squad'sattention. It takes some extensive attempt to


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destroy cities property to bring them or theirfiremen brothers out in force. And the firemen

are also armed and only appear in thecompany of police squads.

From the outset, the squads wielded almostunlimited power. Although originally staffed byfederal employees, within six months, theyoperated more like a local Mafia than anythingelse. Despite efforts by authorities to the

contrary, the squad members were bought andsold by the inmates, almost from the beginning.It is a dangerous occupation and squadmembers that did not go along with the localpower thugs met accidents or death in fairlyshort order. This quickly weeded out those whotried to live up to their intended purpose.Looking back, it is amazing that this was not

foreseen.This very real problem was soonacknowledged by the authorities on theoutside, and, as many of you may recall, muchtime was spent (especially in the tabloids) intrying to puzzle out a solution. After some time,it was regretfully decided to withdraw thegovernment-employee squads completely infavor of an all-inmate police force, one madeup of the lifers themselves, who had beencontrolling the police force anyway. It isinteresting to note that some 20% of the policesquad members opted to remain in the prisoncities rather than return to normal public life.The perks and the experience of sheer powerwere just too tempting.

WOMEN AND CHILDREN


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The government is beside itself on the kidissue. And the public agrees. Pressure from

the outside has been great and relentless.About all the government can do is to declarethat any children born in captivity can beoffered for adoption to the outside at any time.Registration of all children born in the Cities ismandatory, but this has mostly been ignored inrecent years, so there are who-knows-how-many unregistered children on the inside.

The end result will be a generation of kids whowere born and raised in the Cities. Many are infact put up for adoption to the outside. AdoptedCities children continue to be in great demand.A child can choose to leave at any time. Allthey have to do is to show up at either of thegates and ask for release. As long as their

fingerprints and retinal scans are not on file,they can leave the Cities that day. Still, it is areal mess and perhaps the worst feature of theprison concept.

TAKING THE FULL TOUR

Aside from the influx of women, thousandsmore have entered the cities, carrying with

them money to buy enough protection to takethe full tour," as it is called. A certainpercentage turn up robbed, hurt, dead, or arenever heard from again. Some few opt toremain inside, preferring life in the Cities to lifein the so-called real world. A standing joke inthe news-media cartoons is that there is noreal difference, inside and outside.

From the perspective of those outside theprison cities (certainly in the tabloids), there


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seems to be a kind of endless celebrationgoing on within the prison cities. No curfews.

Bars and nightclubs are open 24 hours a day, ifthey wish. Life resembles one big butdangerous party. It is very much a case of grablife while you have it and enjoy it to the max.Anything can and does happen, good and bad.People eagerly pay to come and see what theystruggle so hard to avoid getting close to intheir own inner cities. Ironic. The comedians

love this riff.

I could continue to describe the incredible lifein the Cities. And in the course of our story,you will see enough pieces of it to get the idea.Still, what has been presented so far is not themain point here. The rough-and-ready life isnot the most interesting aspect of the cities.

And we are just getting to what is.THE PRISON ARTS SCENE

It became a matter of intense interest to theentire nation to discover that life in the Citiesoffered something more than just a uniquesolution to the problem of criminals or anendless dark celebration of life. By most

historical accounts, it seems to have startedwith the music. As you might imagine, life inthe cities has its own unique pressures andflavor. Prison life is hard and uncertain.Moments of joy and tenderness must be fewand are to be savored. Beyond this seemingendless celebration is a desperate thirst for lifeand peace. It would seem that any simple

pleasure is more precious when experienced inthe prison. At least outsiders have come tobelieve this. Life inside is a challenge to the


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imagination. Whole shelves of magazines andbooks on the Cities can be found at any large

bookstore.Prison cities have their own bars, nightclubs,and, their own style of music. And all agreethat Cities music is unlike any that has comebefore it. There is a sense of reality and depththat you just can't find anywhere else. Itsomehow has more than soul, or at least

outsiders think so, and it captures something inthe mind itself. Like Shakespeare, it hasbecome more language than language itself. Ithas redefined music or at least become adistinct genre: Cities Music. And it defiesimitation. Here at last it seems is the very heartand mind of the music of this time, at least inNorth America.

And although born of life in the Cities andproduced for the city inhabitants, this music ishugely popular here on the outside. CitiesMusic has become something like a globalpreoccupation. It makes a significant amount ofmoney for some of the Cities groups thatperform it and even more for those outsiderswho market it.

Following close on the heels of Cities Music wemight add Cities stand-up comics, Cities poetryand literature, and Cities art -- much of it withsomething of that same special quality. In fact,Cities music and the arts have amounted toone of the most important renaissance artsmovements in the early 21st century, if not

THE most important.


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Yet, Cities artists never go on tour. You canbuy their CDs, but you are never about to see

them live. They are not coming to a town nearyou. There is no doubt that this forbiddenquality has made outsiders love Cities musicand culture that much more. Citiesparaphernalia (t-shirts, mugs, etc.) are way outof control. There just is not enough informationcoming from the cities to satisfy the curiosity ofthe world outside.

And this has led to more and more outsidersrisking money and life for even a brief tour ofthe prison. It has become the "in" thing to do --a status symbol. People honeymoon there!Tourism in the Cities rivals any touristattraction in the world. During the post turn-of-the-century years, Cities tours were the most

talked-about (if not the most frequented)attraction on Earth, and among the mostdangerous. Having been inside the citiesprison says something about you. It is betterthan any gold earring.

Thousands of pages have been written aboutthe cultural renaissance movement in thecities. And it is multi-cultural - almost all racesand nationalities are represented. Since themajority of life imprisonment sentences werehanded out to minorities, Caucasians wereoutnumbered from the start. The Cities isperhaps the first truly multi-national, multiracialexperiment, ever.

Looking back, once you got past the amazing

facts of life within the Cities, it is the quality ofthe music, art, comedy, and literature that mosthave captured the attention of the nation and


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the world. You would think that the depressedenvironment of life in the Cities would have

produced dreary, dirge-like music. In fact, theopposite is the case. Cities music and artrepresent some of the brightest moments in21st century culture. It is this clarity andbrilliance, this promise that draws so many tothe Cities: to read and study about them, andto actually want to go there in person.

And this brings us to our story.The Story

It is an early summer morning in Ann Arbor andProfessor Richard Malcolm hurries acrosscampus toward the Literature & Arts Buildingwhere he is about to teach his first class forthis semester, one on popular culture.

He is well dressed yet still comes across ascasual. Richard has a light navy blue scarfwrapped around the shoulders of his nattyherringbone sports coat, one end of whichtrails in the wind as he moves along. Althoughwell into his forties, his curly hair has remainedblack (oddly enough) and seems always to be

just a little out of control. His wire-frame round

glasses send the message that this guy is notonly good looking, but smart too. And finally wenote his much practiced look of preoccupation,as if what he has on his mind is just a littlemore important than your or my thoughts.Students along the campus walkway manageto keep out of Malcolms way but are only tooaware of his passing by. As he whirls along thewide walkway, all take notice. And this effectMalcolm has always encouraged. He is a minor


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celebrity on campus. Everyone knows that. Hevanishes into the large limestone block

building.Professor Malcolm was one of the youngestprofessors ever to be granted full tenure at theUniversity of Michigan. From the first day hewas the darling of the English department,mostly due to the popularity of his first twobooks on popular American culture. In fact,

fairly early on he was removed from anyEnglish-related teaching activities and allowedto establish his own course on popular culture(music, film, and the arts), which he stillteaches today, some twenty years later.

And he was handsome, especially back then.His lovely foreign wife was the envy of all thegrad students and the two together had a

stunning effect on university social events. Hisclasses were packed and the ladies loved him,and he them. Now, quite a few years (and onedivorce) later, Malcolm is still very popular, ifperhaps not the stellar being he once hadbeen. His penchant for women, in particular hisown students, has by now cast some stain onhis reputation, but he will not give them up. Hiscolleagues, while still perhaps jealous, see himmore as a pearl in the department rather thanthe diamond they had once hoped or feared.

Malcolms jet-black hair has never aged oneday and by this late date all understand why.And aside from being some kind of genius, heis also considered very fashionable with

impeccable taste in clothing. Malcolm alwaysplays to his strong points. He is still cool andknows it.


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However, all is not roses. Time is catching up.For one, he has never written another book as

good as his first two, but he still manages tohave the occasional column or feature article inmajor magazines like "Rolling Stone," andothers. He is working on a book about theCities Prison art scene, but it is long overdue,and the truth is that Malcolm has reachedpretty much a dead end with it.

His reputation as a womanizer is now commonknowledge and precedes him into just aboutevery situation, so the young women knowJUST what they are getting into. In short, thebloom is a little off the rose. However, he is stillconsidered somewhat of a trophy by the coeds.

Worse is that fact that within his own mind, hehas tired of it all. For one, he has fallen into the

very unfortunate habit of having to imitate hisown past successes, trying to keep up theimage that has sustained him all this time, andhe finds that humiliating. Re-inventing himself,he knows, is doomed to failure, and he does itonly temporarily (or so he tells himself) whilehe treads water hoping to segue into anotherphase in his life, perhaps one with a little moredignity. That phase is long overdue. This bringsus to our story.

Malcolm is now moving smoothly through thecrowded hall. Students wish him good morning.He nods politely back to them as he threadshis way through the crowded hallway. He is notunfriendly, but his gait and look tell us that he

is on a mission and we are just hanging out,watching him.


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Dr. Malcolm, see you tonight at RackhamHall, a student calls out.

He nods, smiles, and moves on. His classroomdoor is up ahead and to the left. With a singlemove, he darts in. Everyone has been aware ofhim all the way along.

His classroom is not your usual lecture hall,with a podium and wrap around seating, but anold fashioned classroom with a blackboard in

front of which is a screen for the slide projector.There is a bank of windows on the far sidefrom where Malcolm enters and the room isfilled with large dark-stained oak tables.Students are milling around trying to find a seatsince Malcolm is there.

Malcolm is a very popular professor and the

classroom is full. This is the first time thatMalcolm is giving an entire class on the artscene within the prison cities. The students forthe most part, are casually dressed, intelligentlooking, and obviously excited to hear whatMalcolm has to say. They are spread aroundthe room, mostly still not in seats yet, talkingwith one another.

Richard Malcolm comes through the door,briefcase in hand and with an armful of foldersin his left arm, clasped to his chest. He placesthe folders on the small desk and takes off hisscarf. Without so much as a hello, he turns tothe blackboard, and writes "R. Malcolm, PopCulture 205. He then turns around, faces thestudents and begins speaking. There is nowcomplete silence and a little awe.


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Good morning everyone. Welcome to PopularCulture 205. I am Dr. Richard Malcolm.

Pause.

Is everyone in the right room? Is there anyquestion about which class this is?

Students are now heading for their seats oralready there. They are nodding. A womanstudent toward the back raises her hand andMalcolm gestures to her and nods his head.

Dr. Malcolm, will you be speaking about thePrison Cities at your lecture tonight atRackham Hall?

Malcolm responds, Yes, that and other popculture events of interest. As you all know, theart scene inside of the prison cities is oursubject for this entire semester.

Another student hand goes up, another gestureand nod, I looked for your new book atBorders, but I could not find it.

The reason for that is because I have not yetfinished it. My apologies, but it should be outsoon. My publisher is here with us today andwe will be going over some of the final detailslater today. I thank you for your patience.

He gestures toward a sophisticated-lookingwoman in a business suit sitting at the back ofthe room. She smiles in return.

And now let us turn to what has brought all ofus together here and that is the incredible art

scene that is taking place within the walls ofthe prison cities. Before we get into that let mebriefly go over the history of the Cities, just so


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we are all on the same page. I ask you to bearwith me on this. Please feel free to ask

questions today, as we go along.


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MICHAEL

Michael is spending this afternoon at Mark'scoffee house where he spends a lot of hisafternoons. And he has managed tocommandeer his favorite table, just far enoughback so that he can still survey the street andits passers by, without being too conspicuoushimself and yet still have his back up againstthe wall, as good Feng Shui would have it.

From this table he can see everyone andeverything that goes on, just who comes andgoes, and can either make himself available forconversations or hole up and just study.

It is a fair question what he is studying becauseMichael has long ago given up going to college(which he never did finish) and has stayed wellbeyond his accepted allotment of years for

being a student. He has now, for all practicalpurposes, become just another campushanger-on. If he thinks about this too much, itmakes him squirm, for he knows he should beout of the student scene by now and launchedin one career or another. But here he is, stillliving in Ann Arbor, and for that mattersomewhat of a permanent social fixture here,at that. What little money he has comes from apart-time job cleaning the bathrooms for asmall group of stores on State Street. Thisgives him just enough cash to pay the renteach month. He is content. He can be in andout of that job in about half an hour which giveshim some 23 and one half hours a day to dowhatever he chooses. And he needs that muchtime to really feel free and contemplate hisprospects.


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He has, however, some accomplishments.Through sheer age and experience, Michael

has worked his way up the social ladde, so thatjust about everyone in the hip Ann Arbor sceneknows him - students, faculty, andtownspeople. Having grown up in Ann Arbor,Michael is a townie and has always hoped thatthis does not count against him. He fears itdoes. He has been around Ann Arbor all his lifeand knows the ropes. Michael is intelligent

enough to command respect from almosteveryone and yet indecisive enough to havestayed on as part of the extended studentbody. If we had to sum up what it is thatMichael does, we would not go very far wrongby saying he is still considering his options.

Yet, at 31 years of age, those options are

beginning to show signs of wear. He knows hehas to come up with something more definitivepretty soon; he does not want to become justanother old geezer hanging around the studentbody. Michael has little respect for those whohave, and from what he can see byobservation, it is a painful (and humiliating)way to go - old men preying on the student

body, either intellectually and/or physically.Michael lives very simply, renting a room onthe second floor of a house shared by severalothers and this has over the years evolved intohis being more or less the house manager. Atleast he is responsible for gathering the rentand putting it in the landlord's hands eachmonth. Michael has taken possession by nowof what are probably the best rooms in thehouse, or room, since aside from his one large


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room, the other is more like a long hall orentryway than it is a room. This entranceway is

crammed, floor to ceiling, with books and weare talking high ceilings here. His entranceroom also has a small wash sink in it,something the other housemates do not have.In a pinch, he can always piss in the sink if thebathroom is being hogged. Michael is thankfulfor such small blessings.

Michaels corner room is spacious, with doublesets of windows on two sides. In one corner isa narrow mattress, more bookcases, and adesk with a computer his connection to theInternet. A few hundred CDs and a pile ofclothes round things out. This is where Michaelspends most of his time, often just reading orbrowsing the web. Since he has made a point

of avoiding formal education, Michael hasperhaps over compensated by reading justabout every book of literature and philosophyyou could name, including all the Loeb classics

every piece of Roman and Greek literature, atour-de-force that he is not about to repeat.

Like so many others these days Michael isfascinated by the Prison Cities, in particularwith the music and art scene there, and hesoaks up everything he can find on the subject.There is something in the Cities' music thatcaught his attention early on and he knows thatwhatever it is that inspires these artist-convicts,he could use a dose of that himself. He is notunhappy with his life, but Michael feels there issomething inside himself that is missing andperhaps something or someone, somewhereout there waiting for him. At least he hopes so.


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As for romance, Michael is on short rations.Sure, he wanted to marry his high-school

flame, but who doesnt? And he was deeplyhurt when she ran off with the motorcycle guy.Again: almost everyone experiencessomething like this. In recent years, there havebeen plenty of opportunities and severalwomen he even really liked. After all, this isAnn Arbor.

Yet, when all is said and done Michael findshimself alone most of the time. He is either tooshy to make himself known to the few womenwho actually look interesting to him or does notwant the responsibility that comes along with arelationship. As often as not they fall in lovewith him, and he not with them, which leads toMichael extracting himself from the situation,

which he always finds particularly humiliating.He is still looking for someone like himself andhopes that someone is still looking for him.

And he has plenty of free time. As mentionedMichaels current passion is (and has been forsome time) the art scene in the prison cities. Intruth, even without the art scene the prison lifeitself fascinates him. He has listened, ofcourse, to whatever CDs have been releasedor bootlegged from the Cities and devouredevery interview and Internet piece he can findon the prison. At least around Ann Arbor he isa walking expert on the Cities artists, althoughthe sum total of what he knows so far has notgiven him any real insight into what makesthese artists tick. There is not much solidinformation on the art scene available and he isunmoved by Professor Malcolms take on the


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whole scene. Michael wishes he had the ballsto go there and see for himself, but that

thought is just too crazy for him to consider. Hefigures that if he waits long enough their"secret" will leak out and he will have that.

As mentioned, Michael is by this time quiteeducated, not through the university thatsurrounds him on every side, but always on hisown terms. In fact, although he probably has

never realized it his self education programruns more-or-less parallel to a collegeeducation, only Michael prefers to follow outwhatever he is currently interested in. He haseducated himself and knows more than a littleabout literature, philosophy, the fine arts, and,of course, music. In the last year or so he hasweaned himself from European philosophy

(which he had never been able to find all thatpractical in real-life situations) and beendiscovering Asian philosophy or more to thepoint what we could call Asian psychology, inparticular Tibetan Buddhism. And it is thisinterest in Buddhism that brings him into ourstory.

Michael had approached Buddhist philosophyas he has any other philosophy by reading a lotand discussing it with anyone interested, and inparticular arguing with any graduate-studentexperts foolish enough to take him on, mostlythrough the ritual of staying up all night,smoking cigarettes, and drinking far too muchcoffee. He tried auditing any number ofuniversity classes, but always found theacademic environment just a little too boring forhis taste. By now, Michael is a familiar figure in


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the Ann Arbor coffee houses, going until dawn,locked in one grand dialogue or another, often

with a whole table of participants. Although hedoes not have the celebrity of RichardMalcolm, Michael is a well-known fixture on theU. of M. campus. Michael and Richard havenever formally been introduced.

As mentioned, lately Michael has particularlytaken to Tibetan Buddhism because as far as

he can see it really is mostly psychology ratherthan then the rarified abstractions ormathematics he has grown tired of in Westernphilosophical works, and that actually meanssomething to him. In fact it is a great reliefcompared to all the dry European philosophyhe had forced upon himself over the years. Helikes the feel of what the Tibetans are teaching.

He can talk about it all night and does, whichleads us to the singular event that is somehowcatalytic for Michael, meeting the Tibetan lamaTenzin Nyima Rinpoche.

This particular Tibetan is not only a tulku (a re-incarnated lama), but he speaks flawlessidiomatic English and is Michael's age, perhapsa year older. His books have become moreand more popular (Michael has read most ofthem more than once) and he is coming to AnnArbor to speak. Michael is not about to missthis event and ends up phoning the professorwho is putting on the event for the university tofind out more information about the comingvisit.

As it turns out the organizing committee for therinpoche is small and Michael finds himself notonly offering to chauffeur the rinpoche for the


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weekend, but agreeing to design and distributethe poster that announces the event. Michael is

excited about the visit and is counting the daysuntil he will pick up the rinpoche at the Detroitairport.

Michael has already read a ton of philosophybooks, probably more than he really felt likeand is long past enjoying the process orlearning that much from them. Yet he is driven

by a desire to discover any kind of radicalthought, anything new, and hopefullysomething strong enough to help himsomehow change his own life. He loves his life

just as it is, but also knows it cant last foreverlike this. He hopes some life-changing eventwill rescue him from becoming just anotherfixture of the campus. He is still waiting to grow

up.Michael is always looking for something new,so when he wandered into Nyimas books asexamples of Asian philosophy, what he foundwas not just another philosophy to considerand talk about. Nyima offered a method or wayto work with day-to-day life that did not demanda degree in logic as so many of the abstractEuropean philosophers require. Moreimportant, Nyimas philosophy was interactive;it insisted that one put ideas into practice andtake action on a daily basis. In other words, itoffered a method. And this, to Michael, was anew feature - a path through everydayobstacles that made sense to him. If Michaelcould struggle through all of Hegels books,then he pretty much inhaled those of Nyima


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Rinpoche. He was really looking forward tomeeting the man.

AT THE AIRPORT

On the day of Nyimas arrival Michael, true tohis worry-wart nature, has arrived early at theairport and the plane, as it too often happens,is late. He has plenty of time to pace back andforth in the gate area, look out of the narrowterminal windows at not much at all, and mostly

just wait. Michael is almost always early. He isso into anticipating events and arrivingeverywhere ahead of schedule that life hasforced him to wait. Despite his naturalimpatience, he has become an expert onwaiting, to looking forward. And now he iswaiting for Nyima Rinpoche.

Whoosh, click.Across from Michael, the jet-way door swingsopen and an attendant emerges, locking it intoplace. Passengers begin to emerge throughthe door and behind them others can be seenmoving, walking with heads bobbing almost inslow motion. There are layers of peoplemoving through the long enclosed

passageway. Michael is looking at each one,making sure he has not missed the lama. Notthis one; not this one

But then, THIS ONE. A short, somewhat stockyTibetan is walking through the open doorway.He is dressed in a light-colored western-stylesuit. Michael moves forward, steps into his

path just enough to get his attention, andintroduces himself.


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Rinpoche?

The man stops in front of him and Michaelcontinues

Welcome to Detroit. My name is Michael X.

Michael extends his hand. The lama looks himover and slowly extends his hand and shakesMichael's very gently, with just a tiny bit of awry smile on his face. He is looking Michaelover.

Speaking very slowly, rinpoche says, HelloMichael.

Michael can now see the lamas face, close up.He is young, full faced, and quite handsome striking. His eyes look strained, almostyellowish in tone, not healthy looking, and notparticularly alert. Then rinpoche, who now isstanding very close to Michael (with eyes nowlocked) rolls his eyes up and toward the backof his head so that Michael can only really seethe lower whites of the eyes. All this takes onlya little longer than just a flash, something morelike a slow roll, and this is a little disconcertingfor Michael. Then the eyes slowly roll back

down and are again looking right at Michael.However, now there is not a trace of theyellowish tone or the tiredness and there,staring at Michael, is an extremely alert,inquisitive (again, with humor) set of eyeballs.Michael is almost taken aback by thistransformation and moves back a half step.Rinpoche smiles and turns to the young man at

his side.


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a little nervous about what he is supposed todo at this point... stay, leave, join in? He is not

sure what his place is. Michael was impressedat meeting the rinpoche and is looking forsome way to just hang around and soak upmore of whatever it is the rinpoche is about.We hear rinpoche saying, Larry, would you gowith the professor for the tour. I want to rest fora short while

We can't hear or see all of it, but there begins ageneral exodus. Michael, now really sheepishand still standing along the back wall preparesto file out with the rest of them, but hasstepped back making way for the others. Hestands in the rear while they leave, but hewishes he could stay behind with the rinpocheand, as he leaves the room, Michel glances

back to catch a last glimpse of the Tibetan.Nyima catches his eye. He still has that funnylittle smile and says, Michael, do you havetime to give me a hand? Michael, thrilled toextend the moment, Yes. Glad to!

Suddenly the house is empty and they arealone in the front hall. Michael has no ideawhat to do next. Nyima Rinpoche who does,spots a small library in the next room, starts forthe door, saying In here is good. Michaelfollows.

The library is small, maybe 6 by 10 feet andfilled with books as you might expect aprofessor's library to be: shelf after shelf ofthem, but also with a wide variety of knick-

knacks, small vases, paperweights, art work onthe walls, artwork in small standup frames - allmanner of stuff, and almost all with a distinct


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Asian flavor. Michael stands awkwardly to oneside while the rinpoche begins a slow and

thorough examination of each object in theroom.

Although to describe here what happened nextsounds quite ordinary; it was not. The rinpocheis intrigued and delighted by just abouteverything he picks up, books, items (what-have-you), turning what would have been, for

Michael, a more-or-less boring moment in asmall somewhat stuffy library into some kind ofmagical mystery tour. Michael, who hasloosened up just a bit by now has forgottenabout his own awkwardness and is taking thisall in. He is already learning something. Stilluncomfortable, Michael wants to break the(what for him is now a somewhat awkward

silence), I have been reading your booksSpeaking, but not turning toward Michael, therinpoche continues in his inventory of delights,You know, no matter where we are, we canalways be aware of our breathing. We take itwith us.

Michael nods, a little discouraged that the

rinpoche ignored his statement, and herealizes that he is following Rinpoche aroundthe room as the lama continues to pick up andexamine various objects, holding them up tothe light, peering, chuckling. Michael iswatching. With a glance toward a chair in theroom, the rinpoche says, Michael, have aseat.

Rinpoche turns the chair around until it is moreor less in the center of the room and it faces


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himself. Michael sits down immediately, withoutquestion. He feels now more like he is in an

examining room.Nyima continuing, It can be as simple asbreathing in and breathing out, which we arealways already doing. All we have to do isfollow the breath observe it. You try it.

Michael, now even more self-conscious,exaggerates his breathing, as he inhales and

exhales, glancing up at the rinpoche, andlooking around as if to see if anyone else iswatching him. The rinpoche is now observinghim quite closely, and has bent forward anddown until he is looking Michael almost right inthe face. He says,It is all about awareness,being aware of the breathing in and thebreathing out, observing it, using it as a focus.

He pauses, and then: Allow the air to come into your lungs and go out very slowly.

Michael, who feels even more like he is in adoctor's examining room, is still breathing inand breathing out, and desperately trying toslow his breath down. His eyes only dare tocatch glimpses of the rinpoche standing before

him. Michael is obviously on the spot. Therinpoche, who is unperturbed, That's right.Breathe the air all the way in. Notice thepause? And now let it go out. Easy. Eee-asy.

Michael is slowing down just a bit, and nottensing up as much. His breath is smoother.The rinpoche is still right there, Are youfocusing on the pause after the "in" breath andbefore the "out" breath? The breath does not


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stop; it just can't get anymore in and you startto let it go out. That's right, now just exhale.

Michael exhales, sort of choppily. The lamacontinues, With the out breath, it is different.There is no pause at the end; you don't have toworry about that. Just let it go out.

Michael tries to let his breath go out, quiteconsciously.

It is ok to just let the breath really go out, saysNyima Rinpoche.

Michael is trying to let it go, but this wholeexperience has taken on another dimension.As Rinpoche speaks of letting the breath goout, Michael's own life-long fear of letting go, ofdeath and of dying (whatever that is) flashes inhis mind. His general overall uptightness is

now very apparent to him and he is aware ofhis fear of losing control. He has a death grip offear of just letting go. Rushes of images springto mind clinging, unable to let go, to really letthings go to let things just go on, as if hecould stop things, anyway. Michael isstruggling here.

Letting go is not always easy, the rinpochecontinues, Just let the breath go out, butdeeply. Let it go all the way out.

Michael lets the breath go out in a long deepsigh, deeper than he has any memory of. Ashe speaks, the rinpoche touches him gently onthe shoulder and catches Michael's eye. Theirgaze locks. Something magical is happening

here, as the lama says:


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That's it. Let it go all the way out. Dont worry,it will come back. It always does. Breathe out

and let it return on its own. In fact, you can'tstop it.

With this, Michael experiences some real innerrelease. His white-knuckled grip on the chairarms lets go and he relaxes. His fingers extendout. The darker images which were kind ofclinging to Michael are freed up, wither, and

vanish. In their place are images of boundingfree, of green hills, and a sense of joy. He hasan image of himself coming over the top of ahill, school books in hand along with otherstudents. They are heading down into a goldengreen valley where they will go to school. Thisflashes through his mind.

Nyima rinpoche remarks, Now you've got the

idea. Gently now. Follow the breath back inquieting the mind.

Michael is relaxed. He looks up and around.His eyes meets the rinpoche's eyes. There is asoftness and openness around both their eyes,like a little glow. Their minds are relaxed.Rinpoche smiles. They are looking at each

other. Michael smiles.Rinpoche continues, Good. That is enough fornow. Larry can show you more about the bestposture for doing this later. The rinpoche turnsslightly away and begins to move on. Michaelwants to continue this moment, Rinpoche,what is this you are showing me?

Now turning back, the Rinpoche again looks atMichael, and says, You are just looking atyour mind by following the breath. In Tibet, we


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call it Shin [Shee-neigh], it means residing inthe calm. In English, you might call it

meditation.Michael responds, That was something.Thank you, Rinpoche, and the lama responds,Of course, you are very welcome. Mypleasure.

Rinpoche has gone back to examining things inthe room and Michael is now on his feet and

more or less again following the rinpochearound the room again. Michael is much morerelaxed now, and speaks freely.

Rinpoche, have you heard about the artmovement in the prison Cities?

Rinpoche nods, Yes, somewhat. I have readabout it and heard some of the music. It is very

beautiful.Michael continues, I want to learn what it isabout those artists that makes them so sharp,and their art so profound.

Rinpoche nods, I understand You know, Ihave heard that Khenpo Rinpoche is now inthe Cities and that would have an effect.

Michael, now questioning, Khenpo Rinpoche?Who is that?

Michael, he is a great lama and I get thefeeling that you might want to go there and askhim what you just asked me. He would havethe answer.

Michael is now listening intensely.


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Rinpoche, continuing, Now, I should get somerest. I have to speak tonight. Thank you so

much for driving me here. I am glad we met.Thank YOU, Rinpoche. When you showed mehow to meditate, so much happened in mymind. I can't explain it was like letting go of alot of old stuff.., says, Michael.

Rinpoche takes Michael's arm, gently andlooks him in the eyes, saying, I understand.

That is a good sign. If you like, you canpractice that some each day.

The rinpoche extends his right hand toMichael, quite formally, as if he knows how wedo this here in the West. Michael gets the ideaand extends his hand. They shake hands, andrinpoche leaves the room. The scene closes

out with Michael's face looking after him,relaxed and somewhat radiant, in fact.

They walk back out in the entranceway.

On a small table in the entranceway is asaffron-orange poster with red type advertisingthe Nyimas visit. The main image is a wood-block print of a flying dragon, with some kind of

pearl or jewel held in each of its four paws.Nyima rinpoche stops and looks at it. Turningto Michael, I understand you made thisposter.

Michael nods, looking a little sheepish.Rinpoche, continuing, Why did you choosethis particular image?

Someone gave it to me, Michael responds, Iam told that it came from Tibet.


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I know, says the rinpoche, Do you know thestory of this dragon?

Michael picks up the poster and looks at it, Idon't. I just loved the image.

Rinpoche gently takes the poster in his hands,Every Tibetan knows this story. The dragonholds four precious pearls in his hands, one ineach paw. As long as he holds onto all fourpearls, he can fly, but if he drops even one, he

plunges to the ground.The four pearls stand for the "Four ThoughtsThat Turn The Mind." Since you like thisdragon, you might like to learn more aboutthose four thoughts.

Where can I learn more about this? asksMichael, Nyima responds, Khenpo Rinpoche

can explain it to you. Now I am off to a nap. I hope you will stay forthe lecture tonight.

I wouldn't miss it, Rinpoche, says Michael ashe steps out the door and heads for his car.

Rackham Hall

Rackham Hall is a mid-sized but very finelydecorated auditorium. Although not large, it isthe premier lecture hall in Ann Arbor. Michaelbrings rinpoche in early, and there is a smallgathering beforehand just for invited guests.There are drinks and sandwiches. Michael ispresent as are a number of rinpochesstudents, some faculty members, a few local

Ann Arbor businessmen, and some interestedhangers on. Mostly everyone is trying to get as


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close to rinpoche as they can, so they can hearwhat he is saying.

Nyima Rinpoches English is not perfect, buthis command of idiomatic English and slang is.In fact everyone present is delighted as hereveals again and again that he understandsthe subtle nuances of American speech. Thelama is literally playing with the Englishlanguage.

Michael recognizes his friend Robert, theowner of a local metaphysical bookstore, whois not above challenging the lama. Robert andhis friends are more or less bunched together,gawking, listening, not really wanting to disturbthe rinpoche, but obviously taking in as muchas they can get away with. Nyima rinpoche isstanding in the back, holding court. Robert is

amazed to see the lama take out a cigaretteand light it up. Robert, who is deep intomacrobiotics, cannot hold himself back,Rinpoche,

Rinpoche looks up and turns slightly towardRobert.

You are smoking. I thought that lamas

Rinpoche gives that wry little smile of his andlooks at Robert, and says, I thought someonemight want to see me smoke.

Everyone laughs, and then rinpoche laughs,takes a long slow puff on the cigarette, looksup in the air, and blows the smoke out in a longplume. Everyone laughs again, and rinpoche

adds, You know, I don't plan to live forever, atleast not right now.


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Everyone laughs again. The small crowd ofwatchers is encouraged and they close in on

the rinpoche, who is still smiling, and smoking.They are getting acquainted now. This is whatthey all hoped for.

The lecture is fairly well attended, NyimaRinpoche not being as well known then as helater would become. Michael is sitting right upfront, captivated (as is the entire audience) by

the lamas words. It was a perfect evening.Michael keeps running through his mind thepart about his going to the Cities and askingKhenpo Rinpoche. What is that all about?

AIRPORT

The next day Michael drives rinpoche andLarry to the airport and walks inside. Larry has

rinpoche's bags and is standing a little behindthe lama, just out of earshot. Rinpoche andMichael are standing together, speaking. Theyare just outside the final gate through whichMichael cannot accompany them. Michael issaying goodbye, Rinpoche, I am so glad youcame here. Thank you for everything. I had noidea you were like this. I have no personal

resistance to you. It is wonderful I havenever met anyone like you

Rinpoche cuts in, very gently, now takingMichael's hand in his and holding it. This wouldbe very unusual in Michael's world, but he seesthat rinpoche is completely sincere.

Well, Michael, here we both are, and we are

about the same age. You know, right place,right time, as you say.


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Michael, continuing, I just want to saythanks so much.

Michael actually clasps rinpoche's hand at thispoint. They look at each other. Rinpochesmiles his little wry smile, You are verywelcome. And please give my best regardsto Khenpo Rinpoche, when you see him. He isvery special, as you will find out This hasbeen fun. Let's meet again! Goodbye, for now.

Rinpoche shakes his hand in a more formalmanner and turns to Larry and insists on takinghold of some of the luggage. They turn toMichael and rinpoche gives a very slight bow ofacknowledgement and they are off. Michael isstill assimilating the comment about hismeeting Khenpo Rinpoche, and he calls afterthem.

Rinpoche, how will I find him? How will I findKhenpo Rinpoche?

The rinpoche stops, turns, and speaks, He iswith the Tibetans, in the Sector. You will haveto go into the Sector. Good luck!

And the rinpoche and Larry pass through the

gate and are gone. Michael stands staring afterthem.

Michael is intrigued by what he has learnedabout Khenpo Rinpoche and even entertains afew daydreams about going to the Cities andfinding the man. But that would be crazy and

these are just daydreams. He is busy enoughjust coping with things as it is and doesnt havetime to go off on what could be some wild-


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goose chase, and a very dangerous one atthat. Michael soon (mostly) forgets all about

trying to get to the city.Then one night Michael is at his table at Mark'scoffee house and the girl who hooked him upwith Nyima Rinpoche comes in. Michaelbeckons her to join him. She comes over.

They talk about the visit and Michael tells herhow deeply moved he was to meet Rinpoche,

how much it meant to him. As NyimaRinpoches student, she of course,understands and asks him to tell her every littledetail. When he tells her about the time hespent with rinpoche in the library, she stopshim. She has a puzzled look, Two hours.Wow! That IS unusual. How did that happen?

Michael explains that everyone else went for atour of campus, and rinpoche asked him tostay behind with him. The girl, now showingincreasing interest, Well, what happened?Michael tells her, We hung out for a while andthen he had me sit down and kind of watch mybreath. A lot of things went though my mindwhile he did this. I saw a lot about how I hold

things in and am afraid to let goAnd then I asked him about the music in theprison cities. He told me about a rinpoche thatsomehow is inside the Cities. He said that Ishould or could go and ask him about themusic there and he would have something totell me. The girl, still, taking this all in, Whoa!This is heavy. Are you going there?

Michael pauses and actually thinks about thepossibility and turns to her, I have thought


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about what he said a lot, but dont seriouslyconsider going there myself. I understand,

she replies, Me neither, but rinpoche wouldnot say something like that lightly. He wastelling you something.

Michael, who had not thought about it quite likethat, reopens the possibility in his mind. Thegirl tells him he is one lucky dude to spend somuch personal time with the rinpoche and that

he should consider what rinpoche told him.After she leaves Michael looks out across theroom, obviously distracted and looking inward,thinking about all of this.

It is early the next morning just before dawnand Michael is sleeping peacefully. You cansee behind him out the window just the meresttinge of morning light. Michael has a dream.

In his dream he is traveling to the Cities tomeet this wonderful being, this golden Asianman who is waiting for him there. WhenMichael arrives before him is a really radiantbeing with like stalks of light coming out of hiseyes. In the presence of this rinpoche Michaelfeels better than he has ever felt. He is just so

happy. The rinpoche recognizes Michael andwelcomes him. And then he wakes up.

There in the early morning light, sitting up inbed, Michael tries to grasp at remembering thedream, savoring whatever pockets of memorystill remain. But they are already almost gone.He cant quite get back into that state and soonMichael is left sitting there, just wide awakewith this great empty feeling. He is mostly sadthat such an event is not really happening. His


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whole current life kind of rushes upon him. Hefeels deflated.

He moves to the side of his bed, puts his legson the floor, and looks around his room. Whatis he really doing with his life? Here he is ahanger-on in Ann Arbor, someone who hasgrown much older here in this student Meccathan those around him. He has stayed on whenmost students have graduated and moved

ahead with their lives and out into the world.The clock is ticking and he still does not knowexactly what he wants to do with his life.

In this early morning light, sitting there in bed,staring at his alarm clock, he feels sadnessthat his lifestyle has shut out any possible gapsor openings that might let him interrupt thedaily process of mostly doing nothing and

break out into something new like the dreamhe just had, the feeling that something orsomeone was waiting for him; someone knewwho he was and was looking for him too.

His whole current thrust and direction just turnsgray in his mind and pops like a bubble. Itevaporates. He feels empty and feels sorry that

he has filled his life so full of busyness andnoise so that a magical event like meeting thisgreat being is no longer possible for him. He istoo busy for this kind of dream. And busy doingwhat? Not a lot, he agrees. This fact depresseshim and he is not sure just how he can go onfrom here. All of this, the dream, his deflatedfeeling, is totally unexpected. Everything had

been going along so well and then the dreamand now this empty feeling and loss ofdirection. All of the momentum he had going


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for him about his life is gone. He mostly feelsbadly that his life is so poor that it cannot afford

such a magical event to even happen.This is when Michael first knows he is going tothe Cities. It is clear to him now that this is theway to go, his path. He has to do it because hewants that experience, to see if his dream isreal, to see if the golden man is really there, tofill that empty spot within him. He is shocked

that he is going. In their own ways he andRichard Malcolm have a lot in common.

What a busy time it is. Suddenly Michael haseverything to do and no time in which to do it.The first thing he does is to attempt to booktickets within a month. In that short time he hasto apply for and receive a Cities visa, to have atour set up, inoculations, etc. Although in the

U.S., travel to the Cities requires a standardpassport and all that it entails.

Visas, too, come in slow and expedited forms.Here, too, he has to pay extra to expedite theprocess. Even then, it just comes through intime. And for visas and passports you need up-to-date birth certificates, the ones with an

imprinted seal on them! It turns out that hisbirth certificate, that is, the one from his birth, isno longer valid. This precipitates a franticsearch (and extra fees!) to get a fresh copy ofwhat he already always had and he paid tohave it overnighted to him. The passportpeople just held up everything until they gotexactly the birth certificate they required.

Inoculations were a mini-drama in themselves.What shots to get? What shots to ignore? What


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about the wisdom of shots at all? Some arerequired. He pulled all the information he could

get from books, the internet, and local doctors,but they did not agree. Michael began callingdisease control centers and national experts.One thing is for certain: few people know thewhole story about getting immunizations fortraveling to a place like the Cities, althoughmost local doctors firmly believe they know thefacts. Somehow he got all the shots he

needed, including five or six in one fine day.

As for the itinerary, that was pretty much left upto him. Aside from the shelf of books he hadaccumulated on the Cities and Colorado (mostwhich were pretty sketchy anyway) Michaelhad access to a couple of individuals who hadactually been there, but they had no

experience with the artists and had neverheard of Rinpoche. Forget about watching thelatest movies. Every night found Michaelburning the midnight oil trying to figure out amillion angles. Let's see, there was the convict

jargon, the medical supplies, the trekkingequipment, the places to visit, the maps to find,the clothing - the works.

As for the convict language, as dumb as itsounds, Michael got a few books and madesome laminated cheat-sheets. On a pocket-sized sheet he listed all of the most importantphrases he might need. That took a lot of timebecause he had to digest it all in order tocondense it. Pretty soon he was talking like aninmate.

As for a list of what to take he collated thatfrom all the books he had plus the experiences


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of those who had already been there. Theirnotes included things like "You can't bring

enough Kleenex!" and "Don't forget the Tuck'spads." Michael boiled down all of these listsinto a master list of items that he had toconsider. There was a limit to what he couldphysically carry and keep track of.

Michael made many trips to K-Mart and Wal-Mart with lists in hand, snagging various items

as they presented themselves to him in theaisles. His sister, who favors homeopathic andnatural remedies, worked to that end whileMichael made sure he had the allopathic itemsthat would at least address the symptoms. Hecollected things like laxatives, diarrheamedicine, antihistamines, and all those thingswe love to hate until we need them. He also

scored some antibiotics from a friend.As for clothing Michael soon found that most ofthe old standard mail-order catalogs that usedto carry outdoor wear had gone upscale andnow had more preppy clothes than substantialgarments. Even the venerable L.L. Bean isnow selling dog beds and Christmas wreaths,looking more and more like a J.C. Penney'scatalog. This forced him for some items intohiking catalogs like Patagonia, Marmot and towhatever expedition and outfitter stores hecould find. It was fun when the local cliff-jockeywho was telling you about the advantages ofthis or that sock combination, asked Michael,"Where are you going to be hiking?," to answer"The Cities." Their eyes would bug out despitetheir best efforts at self-control. Not that he wasgoing to do that much climbing.


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When it came to hiking and camping gear hereally got sidetracked. Michael bought

something like five different pair of hikingboots, four of which he took back. It took timeto figure the boot angle out and he settled for apair of comfortable Nike hiking boots ratherthan the more uncomfortable real thing. Andyou know that he had to have some $14-a-pairThorlo hiking socks which were in fact worthevery cent.

Michael had metal mirrors, mosquito headnets, Swiss-army knives, candles, flashlights,waterproof matches, hidden money pouches,Nalgene water bottles, and so on. About theonly thing he didn't take were his dads olddecoder rings and Ovaltine labels.

But Michael really spent some late nights on

the itinerary for the journey. There being nodetailed map of the Crestone area, hephotocopied tiny section maps from armypublications and pieced them together tocreate one large map of the areas he wasplanning to visit. He used the internet todownload aerial maps and spliced themtogether. Then, with books in hand, he readand plotted out a path that he hoped he couldfollow. Of course, the central point in the

journey was his visit to the Tibetan monastery,high in the Sangre de Cristos Mountains.Everything else after that was gravy. It was ahigh-energy time -- those weeks preparing forthe trip -- and visions of the Cities dancedthrough his head.

And there were delays, the worst happeningright up front, right after he arrived at the


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airport, on the day of his flight. He had just bidall his Ann Arbor friends (who were in awe that

he was going) goodbye and finagled a ride tothe airport where he was dropped off.

There he stood in the airport with hisbackpacks on the floor, listening to theannouncement that his flight had beencancelled, due to high winds at ChicagosOHare airport where he was headed. To make

it worse, his ride to the airport had already left.It was less than climactic, having to rent a carto drive himself and his gear back home.Worse yet was the 24-hour wait for the nextday's plane, not to mention more or less hidingout indoors so he did not have to explain to hisfriends what he was doing back in town after allhis braggadocio in leaving. It was a watch-the-

clock moment and just try to sleep. Not muchon the sleep.

But dawn came and Michael is back at Detroit-Metro, bags in hand. This time the flight is notcancelled and he is finally on his way. His triptakes him from Detroit-Metro Airport to theDenver International Airport, where he changesplanes. This is an understatement. It turns outthat only small planes can land at the tinyprison airport which is located just south of theGreat Sand Dunes National Park area. Howsmall a plane, Michael is about to find out. AtDenver, just a trifle short on time, Michael,rigged out with his backpack and other gear,negotiates all the endless conveyor belts,colored neon lights, and loud music and headsfor his terminal. As it turns out his terminal is atthe end of the end of the line. In fact, his


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gateway is little more than a stairway down tothe tarmac, which for now is roped off. And

there he waits.And waits. In time the gate is opened and anattendant shows Michael and the few otherfolks taking the same flight down the stairs andout on the tarmac, where sits a very smallplane indeed, perhaps seating 11-12 people, atbest. As they enter, the attendant offers him a

tray on which are two things: pieces of cottonfor his ears and candy to help him swallow.

How novel, he thinks. Then, to Michaelssurprise the attendant climbs in after Michael,closes the plane door, puts on a flight hat andbecomes, Voila!, the pilot. The cotton and thecandy were cute, but the segue from attendantto pilot was over the top. All of the five or so

passengers are amazed. And off they fly. At32,000 feet the country marches on beneathhim. The endless flat farms and the bumpy airas they began to cross over the Sangre DeChristos mountains and beyond to the smallairport at Dune City.

The flight from Denver begins to descend from

the clouds into the beautiful Great Sand DunesNational Park Valley and thus Michael gets hisfirst real view of the Colorado Mountains. In theapproaching twilight he can still see clearly therugg

the cities (a.k.a. the prison cities)

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