Makeshift Lives...

Makeshift Lives...

~Echoes of a Home~

The ugliest words in the human language are Homeless and being homeless.

 What comes to mind when the word Homeless is mentioned, in any regard? You 
immediately get an image of what you believe homeless looks like... which is 
the commercialized version, not the reality version... but have you given any 
thought to what it actually feels like, to be homeless? The stigma that automatically 
comes with the title and label... the mis-perceptions, gross judgments and 
assumptions that hold no truth. If you don't look like a walking 
trash bin and smell like a sewer, then you can't be homeless.

The stereotypes cast into roles that have never fit, trying out for a part we 
were not properly cast in. Living on the streets is challenging enough without the 
added labels and stigma attached to it, immediately cast our way even before they 
actually see us, actually set their eyes on us -- cast into roles that have never ‘fit’, 
but condemned by hear-say, not by the evidence of Truth. 
Too blind to see and too deaf to hear---

I didn’t choose to be put out here, yet I’m always being prosecuted for the 
actions of others-- it’s this response toward me that turns me ‘off’ to life-- Forcing 
myself to remember to breathe and remembering why I should bother to keep going. 
I often wonder what it is that keeps me pushing, fighting and holding on (to what..??).

Transitional Living....

When you live your life, or merely an existence of a semblance of

what once was a life, on the streets,

your life becomes mobile in the truest sense.

Everyplace and any place,

using the resources around you for your temporary housing,

becomes your residence, at least for a few minutes, perhaps a couple

days, weeks at most, before you are forced to another

destination, but not one that takes you

any place.

Carrying your 'home' with you at every moment.

And the cycle repeats. Everyday.

You become an expert at packing, as this is a daily ritual.

Camping becomes your new sport.

Walking becomes your main form of transit, no matter if your body is able

to carry you or not, you are not given the choice or the

luxury of just being for a time, allowing some healing to unfold through 
your body. Putting more miles on your feet than most people do their cars. 
People would be surprised the mileage we put on our feet when your

home is the great outdoors, they wouldn't believe the

information listed on a pedometer if we had them attached to us.

They would insist they we had somehow rigged it, as the numbers showing

could not possibly be true. Follow us then. But then anyone following us

would fall to the wayside, they could not keep up.

Beginning my mornings by meditating before the chaos of the day unfolds.

It helps prepare my mind and heart for the day to come.

My companions of the night, furry and feathered, are the most

treasured friends I have and give me reason to breathe in, and out, and try to

remember to repeat the cycle.

Life in Transit...

Not given the chance to make a home, but we have many residences.

Never knowing where you might find your self at any point of the day or night.

What city or town you will be in, not usually by choice.

How long will you be given the chance to breathe, before you are forced to move?

 How long before some home residing person calls the cops

on us just for being present?

And taking advantage of whatever resources are at your disposal at any 
given moment... a sink, I'll pull out my shampoo or toothpaste out and

get down to business. Learning to clean up in the quickest time and measuring the

time allotted, for what you will do. If I have 3-5 minutes, I can wash my hair and 
brush my teeth at the same sink, before heading out and moving on. Always having 
what I need with me, since I never know when the opportunity will 
present itself. Stayed prepared.

By Renee Bowen

Homeless since Sept. 1, 2000

© 11/2011