91×ÔÅÄÂÛ̳

Unconditionally

In the highly acclaimed work The Color Purple, poet and novelist Alice Walker wrote, "... it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it". Today, I envision myself in a field somewhere far away from this place. I have the lavenders. The lavenders are akin to the blues, but with a good deal more brilliance, intensity and sorrow. Incarceration is a perpetual state of blue. I do not get mere blues, as I live them every day in this cell. Hence, the reason I call what I get the "lavenders". So, symbolically speaking, as you read this sentence, you are walking by and noticing me in this field of incarceration. That is nice, because we do not want to piss God off. When I get the lavenders, sometimes I go through a stack of old letters seeking inspiration. Today I came upon a February 12, 1995, letter written by a young woman, Sarah Frances, who lives in Essex, England. In her letter Sarah expresses sympathy for the plight of us all here who, at that time, had been officially ordered not to write any letters to our friends and loved ones overseas. She wrote that the prison administration's rules reminded her "of something from Orwell's 1984. Among the things that touched me most about her spirit was her unconditional support when she wrote, "It is with great pleasure that I write to you, regardless of if I get a reply". She went on to write about how mild the winter in her part of England had been, and that she was consumed with "the smell of hyacinths". Then that she quoted one of T.S. Eliot's works, The Wasteland: "April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory with desire..." Next to Eliot's words she had taped three small lilac blooms. By the time the letter reached me, the brilliance of their purple and lavender hues had turned a brittle brown. Nevertheless, in gratitude I remember an ever so faint floral scent that once permeated the lower right corner of that page. Though gone from the paper the fragrant scents of those three little blooms will reside forever in my heart. I can sum up what I have written here by saying that no matter how worn and withered the residue of an unconditional act of kindness is, it never dies or is wasted. It lives in the quintessential goodness of itself. It is, no matter how great or small, an incomparable gift. I thank Sarah Frances, who has come forth out of the past to notice me today in this field of incarceration — for I have a case of the lavenders so intense and brilliant that I am, indeed, purple. Despite my lavender pains and mood, I hope to be able to do some good. I have learned that the best way to fight one's own lavenders and blues is to help others fight theirs. I hope the practice becomes contagious. For anyone with the blues out there today, I give these ... Three Flowers Through painful growths of lavender, yes Know that I share unconditionally, my love with you To warm you, perhaps not today but a tomorrow Through painful growths of lavender, yes As your soul begs for joy, even to borrow You need not bloom alone in that field of blue Through painful growths of lavender, yes Know that I share unconditionally, my love with you.

[The writer is a prisoner on death row in the United States. He is happy to answer letters commenting on his columns. He can be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, EF-122216, G2-51, GD&CC, PO Box 3877, Jackson, GA 30233, USA. Brandon's childhood autobiography is available in booklet form for $16, including postage. Every cent raised will go towards defending his life. Please make cheques payable to the Brandon Astor Jones Defence Account and post to 10 Palara Place, Dee Why NSW 2099. Donations to the Brandon Astor Jones Defence Account may be made at any Commonwealth Bank, account No. 2127 1003 7638.]