A few weeks ago, I volunteered in a prison outside of Fresno. Trusted colleagues who had volunteered before recommended the program, previewing that it would be life-changing. Despite some natural fear, I saw it as a chance to step outside of my own bubble and learn something about a different group of people. If I was lucky, I’d also learn something about myself.  

The Freedom to Choose Project was inspired by Victor Frankl’s noteworthy quote:

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

I’ve found it challenging for any summary to do justice to the experience. In a gym that held roughly 50 volunteers and 150 incarcerated participants, I know some may never see a day outside of those fences.

The workshop format was structured in mixed trios of volunteers and participants, the incarcerated individuals. Each trio member rotated chairs, filling the role as the facilitator, the sharer, or the neutral observer, which allowed everyone equal space to listen, be heard, and reflect.  

I heard stories of heartache, regret, and fear, but also of hope. I listened to one man’s story of being born in a prison, who learned late in life how to trust. He discovered there is strength in vulnerability.

I met a young man who, after eight years in prison, was being paroled in three months. Despite missing his mom’s funeral in prison, he chose to finish his degree to be a role model to his younger sister and nieces.

I witnessed men who, because of social hierarchies in prison, cannot safely and openly relate to each other. That weekend, I believe they exchanged a rare shared moment of empathy.

Late in the weekend’s workshop, I met Pedro. When it came time for my turn to share, my own daily struggles seemed small in comparison: how to balance work and family life, or worrying about how to be a good parent.

Resisting the instinct to be on guard, I admitted some of my parenting struggles. In return, he listened. Pedro told me he wished he had a mom like me. As we both wept, I rediscovered a freedom I’ve always had. I learned how our capacity for compassion can grow.

—

In corporate teams, that space between stimulus and response is often overlooked. Do I lean in and assert my need to be right at the detriment of this relationship? Do I shut down when I disagree with a colleague? When my ego is bruised, do I blow up and lash out or get curious?

It's fitting that I re-read Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence on my flight to Fresno. In our productivity-obsessed lives, it’s easy to shrug off the need for soft skills. But in the face of lies, deception, and unethical conduct all around us, we can consciously choose to cultivate leaders with self-awareness, self-regulation, social awareness, and relationship skills. We can choose to treat soft skills as power skills, celebrating those who model them.

Day-to-day, the armor we wear may constrict our capacity for compassion. Most of us walk through life with an instinct to protect ourselves from vulnerability. We try to keep ourselves in check from the triggers of disappointments and big egos or the guy who cut us off in traffic. Most of our lives are spent reacting, rather than exercising our Freedom to Choose to see the good in others.

In our free lives, we too can evaluate how to relate with one other. Sure, we can let these polarizing times harden our hearts.  We can remain self-interested and closed off. We can be selective in connecting only with those aligned with our beliefs and points of view.

Or, we might find unexpected healing from those who have walked in different shoes. We can seek to understand each other, despite our differences. There is freedom in this choice.