Erin Wicomb

Facing Fear: Lessons from a Maximum Security Prison Cell Fear. It’s a word we throw around casually—like it’s just another emotion. But the truth is, fear shapes us. It stalks our decisions, clouds our judgment, and, at its worst, can paralyze us from living fully. Right now, as I write this from a maximum-security prison in upstate New York, fear isn’t just a concept. It’s a visitor that keeps trying to sit at my table. What Prison Taught Me About Fear Let me back up. What started as a civil contract dispute spiraled into a criminal conviction. It was estimated that I’d only have to serve six months. That was four years ago. Since then, life has thrown me into a wilderness I never imagined—far from my family, far from my businesses, far from everything I built. From growing up in South Africa, to immigrating to the U.S., being broke and homeless, building a multi-million dollar company, and watching it all collapse… I’ve danced with fear in every chapter of my life. But ...

This principle applies to every area of life, though it’s often overlooked. Let’s start by considering the flip side: what happens when we fail to appreciate something? It withers, shrinks, and often disappears. This truth is beautifully illustrated by the classic tale of the goose that laid golden eggs. The farmer in the story became consumed by greed and impatience, failing to appreciate both the goose and the golden eggs it produced. His lack of gratitude led him to kill the goose in pursuit of more, only to lose everything in the process. This cautionary tale reminds us that appreciation is the cornerstone of sustaining and growing value in our lives . Health: The Goose We Take for Granted When we don’t appreciate our health, it deteriorates. If we abuse our bodies with poor nutrition, drugs, alcohol, or toxic consumption—whether that’s excessive screen time, violent content, or pornography—our health suffers. Sometimes the decline is slow and insidious, but in extreme cases, like...

After almost four years of incarceration, I’ve met countless people from all walks of life. Many of them ended up here due to substance abuse or narcotic sales. The individuals guilty of the most heinous crimes—murderers, rapists, and child predators—are kept separate, housed in different classifications or protective custody. Rarely do I come across someone whose presence feels truly out of place. Someone who seems like they don’t belong here. Dennis, you were that man. At 67 years old, this polite, soft-spoken white man stood out immediately in our harsh environment—an oasis of calm amidst a storm of cursing, tension, and bravado. In my years here, I have never met anyone who said “please” and “thank you” with the sincerity and consistency Dennis did. Even in the smallest interactions, he carried himself with grace and humility. Dennis had an extraordinary life. Born one of three triplets, he became a successful entrepreneur in the 1980s. Among his many accomplishments, he invented v...

There’s a widespread misconception that joy and suffering are mutually exclusive—that we experience happiness in one moment and pain in another, and that the two cannot coexist. I’m here to challenge that belief. In fact, joy and suffering are deeply intertwined, and understanding this truth can transform how we approach life. Life is Suffering—But That’s Not All It Is The reality is, life is full of suffering. This isn’t a pessimistic view; it’s a universal truth. Growth and pain are inseparable. A seed must struggle to break through the soil to sprout its first buds. A caterpillar endures the hardship of transforming into a butterfly. A mother endures labor pains to bring new life into the world. Growth always requires some level of discomfort. Even as we age—when the body begins its decline—we still experience profound joy. Yes, the knees ache, the eyesight dims, and the body slows, but there are moments of beauty: laughing with grandchildren, dancing at family celebrations, or enjo...

Why Do We Fall?  The first time I was arrested and transferred to the Tombs in downtown Manhattan, I was met with the harsh reality of a place that seemed designed to bury not just bodies, but hope. The Tombs, as it’s infamously known, is a New York City jail, its nickname coming from its resemblance to Egyptian burial tombs. One of the most jarring moments was crossing the “Bridge of Sorrows.” This narrow, suspended walkway gave prisoners a fleeting view of the outside world. For a second — and just a second — I was no longer an inmate but a man, seeing the city that had once pulsed with life and opportunity all around me. But before I could grasp it, the world I had known disappeared again, replaced by cold steel and concrete, where time was no longer a guarantee, and freedom was a distant dream with no deadline. The experience was agonizing, especially as I still fought for my innocence.   I was a businessman caught in the crossfire of a white-collar real estate investment ...