This isn’t me

It’s just someone who woke up for the first time in their lives.  It’s someone who needed a place in their world view to put the homeless. It’s a story of an “incident” that happened to a mother and daughter on their way to the next thing.  They experienced a bump in the road, but they will not go back and repave the road.

When I was 25, I was homeless.  I had not money, no income.  I went to many, many of my friends and asked them if I could stay with them temporarily.  They all said “no”.  Some went on to list all the times they had needed help from me, but I had been unavailable to them.  They listed other reasons.  It kind of brought me down.  Still brings me down. Like the blues song, “nobody knows you when you’re down and out.”

it’s not about being homeless.  it’s about conscious versus unconscious.  It’s simple, but not easy.  Without years and years of discipline, one can not empathize with people who are suffering.  One can understand them.  One can pity them.  But, one is missing that sudden, uninvited pang of sorrow at the state of Man.  We don’t cry enough for others.  It seems like we’re crying for no reason, because we are used to only crying for ourselves, or, for our internal turmoil as witnessing the injustice that our very existence implies.  It’s true of everyone, all of us.  This is no judgement on my part.  I am far from any such lofty state. But I thank God every day that at least I have seen the error of my ways, and have dedicated myself to walking the Straight Street..  And I cling to a belief that has both suffering and redemption at its core, because only this kind of faith makes sense to me.  Philosophies, theories, agnostics, atheists – all these ball up into a giant “brood ball” for me. But a daily devotion to witnessing the suffering, combined with the ability to forgive everyone, including myself, for just being human, fallible – that’s my faith.

Live long and prosper.


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