One of my favorite books is How to Live: Or A Life of Montaigne by Sarah Bakewell. It doesn’t read like one of those dense philosophy books you can’t make sense of. It’s human, curious, and reflective—the kind of book that invites you in, not talks down to you. And not just for life. For federal prison. For understanding it, and using it to create structure, build discipline, and prepare for who you want to be when you come home.

My love of philosophy started in federal prison. Michael Santos introduced me to it when I didn’t even understand what I was reading. He taught me. He still does. When I didn’t understand what I was reading, Michael would slow me down, ask questions, and help me connect it to what I was actually living through. He encouraged me to find mentors and to become one. That idea—of making sense of what I was learning and sharing it so others wouldn’t feel as lost—is what started all of this. In our first blog, I ended with a line that I still think about a lot: “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. And where there is darkness, my writings will provide sight.”

We’ll be covering Montaigne’s work more deeply in an upcoming newsletter and webinar. But I wanted to start here, with one of the most misunderstood but vital pieces of advice Montaigne gave: Don’t worry about death.

For people in our community preparing for federal prison, we translate that: Don’t worry about federal prison.

That doesn’t mean ignore what’s coming. It means recognize how the fear itself can become a trap. The anxiety people carry around the idea of prison often does more damage than the prison term itself. Especially in a federal prison camp, where you can still easily find structure (rather than boredom), education, and time to reflect if you decide to use it.

The Myth of Prison as the Hardest Part

A common question I hear from people in our community is: What is life in federal prison camp like? The assumption behind that question is understandable. That prison is the worst part. But in my experience, the hardest part is usually what comes before it. The indictment. The arrest. The silence from friends. The fear of judgment. The shame that can creep into every conversation.

Federal prison, by comparison, has a beginning and an end. There is a schedule. There are routines. With policies like the First Step Act, people who choose to engage and make progress can reduce their time in federal prison. That’s not wishful thinking. That’s policy and that policy is continuing to be refined.

Montaigne wasn’t writing for prisoners, but he understood what fear can do to a person. He believed that worrying about death ruined the only thing we have: the present moment. Worrying about federal prison does the same thing. It drains energy you could be using to ask better questions, to start mapping out what matters, and to prepare yourself to live differently.

The Sentence Isn’t the End of the Story

Some people believe their conviction is the end of their story. But Montaigne’s essays show us that life is never that neat. It doesn’t work in clean chapters. It’s messy, unpredictable, and worth observing. The federal prison sentence is not the full stop. It’s a comma.

I served 18 months in federal prison. That time didn’t erase my mistakes. But it gave me space to think, to write, and to ask better questions. There were moments of frustration. Days when it felt easier to disappear into resentment. But Michael reminded me that withdrawing was a kind of death. That choosing not to live, even in federal prison, was the greater failure.

The work is to show up, take notice, and write it down—even when you’re not sure what it all means yet.

Federal Prison Camp Is Not Just About Time

One reason Bakewell’s book stayed with me is because Montaigne didn’t fake it. He didn’t try to present a perfect version of himself. He captured the contradictions and doubts, and through that honesty, created something enduring. That mindset is essential for anyone heading to federal prison.

You won’t grow by pretending. And you won’t get through it just by counting down the days. People in our community who succeed document their journey, engage in the process, and share what they learn. They don’t wait for their release to begin the work. They begin now.

So if you’re searching, what is life in federal prison camp like? Gere’s my answer: it’s not the end. It’s a beginning you didn’t expect. And what you choose to do with it matters more than how you got there.

Don’t Let Fear Define Your Preparation

You still have time to think clearly, to write consistently, and to develop a plan that shows exactly how you’re using this experience to build a record.

Schedule a personal call with our team to start creating a plan based on your values and goals.

Thank you,

Justin Paperny