Your browser window currently does not have enough height, or is zoomed in too far to view our website content correctly. Once the window reaches the minimum required height or zoom percentage, the content will display automatically.
Alternatively, you can learn more via the links below.
I had repeated this phrase to people so many times to emphasise how incredibly unbelievable it is that I failed English and am now going to be a published author.
This Miss Evans … we had some beef. She was my high school English teacher, and the subject I hated the most at school was English. I didn’t understand why it was so important to fluff up writing to reach a thousand words to be able to explain your stories or philosophy.
I skipped as many English classes as I possibly could. I never handed in an assignment once and, in my entire life, I had never read a book.
I was so stubborn and challenged everything Miss Evans said, getting kicked out of her class constantly.
Back to the present day, and I was cruising through a city of creative, open-minded peoples at Earth Frequency. It’s a festival that goes for five days and is full of music, art, food, teaching, learning but, most importantly, healing. I had just spotted a bunch of kids sussing me out. So I jumped in the air, landed a funky dance move and watched them explode in smiles and laughter. As I landed, I locked eyes with a lady sitting down staring at me, her grey-tinged hair wearing a hat covered with a sunflower print.
She locked eyes with me and said, “Daniel?” in such a formal way that I remembered exactly who she was.
But there we were … locking eyes in the middle of this bush doof, artists of different crafts reunited after 20 years … Miss Evans!
I was in awe, in such amazement and disbelief, I had to sit down and tell her my story.
I told her how, a couple of months after my first stint in prison, I was placed in a cell by myself with no TV for a week. The librarian walked past with his rickety old cart with a bunch of novels. I’d never read more than a couple of pages of any book in my entire life, but out of boredom I picked up the book Breathless by Dean Koontz.
I was 21 at the time. My god, how beautiful and captivating a story could be written. I was hooked and finished the entire book in 2 days.
From that point forward, mostly while I was in prison, I trained in the art of reading and learning.
Not being attached to one genre or story or religion, I became more open and understanding of how people can write in a way that can impact the lives of so many for an eternity.
I had repeated this phrase to people so many times to emphasise how incredibly unbelievable it is that I failed English and am now going to be a published author.
This Miss Evans … we had some beef. She was my high school English teacher, and the subject I hated the most at school was English. I didn’t understand why it was so important to fluff up writing to reach a thousand words to be able to explain your stories or philosophy.
I skipped as many English classes as I possibly could. I never handed in an assignment once and, in my entire life, I had never read a book.
I was so stubborn and challenged everything Miss Evans said, getting kicked out of her class constantly.
Back to the present day, and I was cruising through a city of creative, open-minded peoples at Earth Frequency. It’s a festival that goes for five days and is full of music, art, food, teaching, learning but, most importantly, healing. I had just spotted a bunch of kids sussing me out. So I jumped in the air, landed a funky dance move and watched them explode in smiles and laughter. As I landed, I locked eyes with a lady sitting down staring at me, her grey-tinged hair wearing a hat covered with a sunflower print.
She locked eyes with me and said, “Daniel?” in such a formal way that I remembered exactly who she was.
But there we were … locking eyes in the middle of this bush doof, artists of different crafts reunited after 20 years … Miss Evans!
I was in awe, in such amazement and disbelief, I had to sit down and tell her my story.
I told her how, a couple of months after my first stint in prison, I was placed in a cell by myself with no TV for a week. The librarian walked past with his rickety old cart with a bunch of novels. I’d never read more than a couple of pages of any book in my entire life, but out of boredom I picked up the book Breathless by Dean Koontz.
I was 21 at the time. My god, how beautiful and captivating a story could be written. I was hooked and finished the entire book in 2 days.
From that point forward, mostly while I was in prison, I trained in the art of reading and learning.
Not being attached to one genre or story or religion, I became more open and understanding of how people can write in a way that can impact the lives of so many for an eternity.
Imagine that, and there she was, in the middle of this hippie festival after all these years.
I told her that I’ve come to appreciate the importance of being able to study, of letting go of arrogance and being able to express yourself through the art of the written word.
We talked about the art of storytelling and just how much of an impact on anyone’s life it can have, how it can change the hearts of the lost. To be someone who not only reads but absorbs knowledge, stories, ideas – melting all into a discipline in which you can create a way of life.
Miss Evans and I – we laughed, we cried and, despite the beef we had, we gave each other a long powerful hug of respect and understanding.
I know a lot of people would think, “It’s just a rave.” It’s not just a rave! Matter of fact, I hate that word – it makes people think that it’s just a place where people get wasted and just party and dance. But it’s so much more than that. These events, these moments – they are sacred, powerful and life changing. They make us remember who we are and give us a safe space to be that person around a collection of people, a community who deserve freedom and truly appreciate a life worth living. And don’t even get me started about the spark of creativity you get from being around thousands of other artists!
Before this doof, I was lost, a moment away from destruction. But all those moments I shared there showed the beauty of being outside of prison. It was medicine in its highest form. And being in a comfortable system of work, gym, home, repeat is so numbing. Expand a bit, you’d be surprised how much you could learn. I avoided reading and writing growing up, but imagine that – I’m writing literature that could possibly be captivating you at this moment. Not to mention that, if I never came to this place and practised breath work and meditations, I would have never survived an accident days later where my artery was severely severed. That’s a story for another time though.
So this is my advice to you: find these spaces and figure it out. There is knowledge if you are willing to be open enough and let go of your attachments to the world for a minute. Go to connect, not disconnect. Pay your respects to ancestors, family and teachers that have passed through your lives … even your version of Miss Evans!
I hope you find peace and freedom. Good luck on your journey.
Don’t talk about it, be about it.
Imagine that, and there she was, in the middle of this hippie festival after all these years.
I told her that I’ve come to appreciate the importance of being able to study, of letting go of arrogance and being able to express yourself through the art of the written word.
We talked about the art of storytelling and just how much of an impact on anyone’s life it can have, how it can change the hearts of the lost. To be someone who not only reads but absorbs knowledge, stories, ideas – melting all into a discipline in which you can create a way of life.
Miss Evans and I – we laughed, we cried and, despite the beef we had, we gave each other a long powerful hug of respect and understanding.
I know a lot of people would think, “It’s just a rave.” It’s not just a rave! Matter of fact, I hate that word – it makes people think that it’s just a place where people get wasted and just party and dance. But it’s so much more than that. These events, these moments – they are sacred, powerful and life changing. They make us remember who we are and give us a safe space to be that person around a collection of people, a community who deserve freedom and truly appreciate a life worth living. And don’t even get me started about the spark of creativity you get from being around thousands of other artists!
Before this doof, I was lost, a moment away from destruction. But all those moments I shared there showed the beauty of being outside of prison. It was medicine in its highest form. And being in a comfortable system of work, gym, home, repeat is so numbing. Expand a bit, you’d be surprised how much you could learn. I avoided reading and writing growing up, but imagine that – I’m writing literature that could possibly be captivating you at this moment. Not to mention that, if I never came to this place and practised breath work and meditations, I would have never survived an accident days later where my artery was severely severed. That’s a story for another time though.
So this is my advice to you: find these spaces and figure it out. There is knowledge if you are willing to be open enough and let go of your attachments to the world for a minute. Go to connect, not disconnect. Pay your respects to ancestors, family and teachers that have passed through your lives … even your version of Miss Evans!
I hope you find peace and freedom. Good luck on your journey.
Don’t talk about it, be about it.
I put the window down, and the wind rushed through my hair, and, as if by magical happenstance, How to Make Gravy came on the radio. His voice rolled out like it was coming from someone familiar, telling the story of Joe, writing home from prison before Christmas.
I remember Christmas in prison fondly. I was with all my closest friends – my only friends. When they send you to jail, everyone and everything you have goes away.
I’d never have guessed at the amount of movement happening within the prison system. Not just within a particular prison – that in itself was eye-opening – but movement between prisons.
Prisons de-individualise and dehumanise people. This is often more apparent for people who already do not fit the mold of a “normal person”, such as those with autism spectrum disorder (autism).
Help keep the momentum going. All donations will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
All donations of $2 or more are tax deductible. If you would like to pay directly into our bank account to avoid the processing fee, please contact donate@abouttime.org.au. ABN 67 667 331 106.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Leave a Comment
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Suspendisse varius enim in eros elementum tristique. Duis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere. uis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere.