You Can't Fully Appreciate Something Until You Experience Its Opposite.

It took losing my freedom to fully understand freedom.

Freedom is complex; it’s much more than the physical parameters of prison.

A choice as small as “Do I go left, or do I go right?” is freedom. And within that freedom, we can find magic.

We have to be open to see it and receive it.

Join me on my journey of rediscovering freedom after prison in this excerpt from my new book, “Blank Canvas, How I Reinvented My Life After Prison.”

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THIRTY-SEVEN

“To keep the body in good health is a duty…otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.”

— BUDDHA

It’s been a month since my release from the halfway house and my newfound freedom is settling in. I still question whether or not I can leave my home. Will someone be looking for me? Am I breaking the law?

In an instant, fear rushes in. It’s the fear of going back, fear of not wanting to make a mistake. Fear of walking out my apartment door. It’s an awful feeling. I come back to reality. I remember I am free. I remember I can walk out of my apartment without permission.

I leave my apartment building and look around. Running shoes tied tight — one foot in front of the other. My pace is slow, my muscles tense. My Achilles heel throbs, a prison injury, making itself known with every step. I foolishly attempted to touch the bottom of the basketball net, and it had left me with a physical manifestation of a past I’d like to leave behind.

I start down 7th Avenue and take a right up the hill toward 8th. I cross over 8th and decide to head toward 9th — a spur-of-the moment decision. Arriving at what I expected to be 9th Avenue, I realized there is no 9th. It’s Prospect Park West. I’m not sure where I am. My sense of direction is notoriously bad. Faced with a choice of right or left, I choose left. In a few short blocks, I find myself at the entrance of Prospect Park.

I’m surprised that I live this close to the park. I had no idea. I am excited that my world has expanded exponentially. A reminder not to take for granted the choice to go left or right and the things we can discover when we let go.

I love parks. Always have. I love being out in nature. I enjoy the city but miss the suburbs and their openness and woods. To experience the sounds of nature and the elimination of man-made noise. Connecting to something more significant than myself. I’m grounded, centered when I’m alone in nature.

It’s a reminder of how beautiful the world is. A reminder of how small we are. A reminder that we’re all connected.

I run into the park, unsure of what to do with my newfound discovery. My mind is still set within the confines of routine. Trying to process the possibilities of my expanded boundaries.

Even with freedom, I find myself trapped. The mind is a powerful prison, its bars imaginary yet so strong. Fears, insecurities, the shadow of the past, the glare of the future.

As I explore this new world, a pine tree catches my eye. One of its branches runs parallel to the ground — nature’s pull-up bar.

My workout begins. Pull-ups, push-ups, dips on park benches, jump squats by the softball field, bear crawls between light posts. Focusing on each pull, each push, each step and jump. My heart is pumping, my lungs are sucking up air. Sweat drips in my eyes, and my shirt is sticking to my chest.

There are no prison walls. There are no bills to pay, no anxiety, no divorces, no money troubles. The past and the future cease to exist.

It’s only me. My mind and body are a unified entity with a single goal: the completion of another rep. Feeling the blood flow to the muscles as they work. Each rep a victory. Each rep a mantra keeping me focused on the task at hand. The outside world ceases to exist.

I feel no pressure.

I’m within a bustling city and yet alone in the woods. Not afraid of being by myself. Quite the opposite. Embracing myself, feeling at ease with the pain. The pain that only exercise can bring and the pain that those who exercise crave.

The last rep complete, my breath returns to normal, veins popping from my arms. A massive sense of accomplishment.

I set off to explore the park. With no agenda, with no idea where I am going, I take rights, lefts, this path, that path.

I was always happy when I’d feel a kick to the bottom of my prison bunk. This was Hassan’s signal that he was handing something up to me. I loved it when I saw his hand holding the New York Times. I skipped the news and went straight to the lifestyle and travel sections. Taking notes in my journal, I recorded a bucket list of places I wanted to see and experiences I wanted to have when I was free.

There was an article about Prospect Park, its history, things to see and do. One of the highlights was the unknown waterfalls hidden within the park. I love waterfalls, getting lost in the sight and sound of falling water. This is the number-one item on my bucket list. It doesn’t cost any money, I love waterfalls, and it’s an easy thing to cross off my list.

Walking up a narrow pathway, I hear something and think to myself, There’s no way. I can’t be on the verge of crossing an item off my list this early in my freedom.

My ears follow the sound as my pace quickens. The path leads me straight to it. Set back from the sidewalk, the surrounding woods have grown so that the falls are naturally framed by them. The water cascades down the granite rocks into a small pool below. The trees, clouds, and sun reflected on the surface are like a near-perfect mirror.

I sit on a bench and think about where I was a year ago at this time. Wishing for death, no freedom, my lowest point. Now I live ten minutes away from a place I dreamed of seeing with the knowledge that my wish for death was a wish to escape a temporary situation. Sometimes it’s good we don’t get what we think we want.

I walk home, enjoying the new neighborhood. There is a brownstone covered by trees, a small fishpond in the front. The sound of the water trickling down makes me smile. I realize that I have the freedom and choice to take this time and admire it.

I will do this again but not the same way. A different path, a

different routine. Ruts are easy to get into, more challenging to get out of. Best not to get into them in the first place.

The journey back to who I am and who I want to be is a long one.

Today was a step. Move the body, expand the mind. Embrace freedom in all its forms. There are still more prison cells I need to walk out of.

Right now, I am grateful to be walking out of this one.

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“Blank Canvas, How I Reinvented My Life After Prison” is now available on Amazon.

I wrote this book from my heart, and I gave it everything I had.

My dream, my goal for this book is that it helps one person.

I’d be honored if you checked it out.