A Christmas to Remember... 2023

The Christmas Mirror...

Life on the Streets

Christmas has circled around once again. Another

Mirror Season.... Reflecting back the same, time and

again. My 24^th Christmas and Holiday and Winter

Season without a home. Never should there have

been a single Season outside, without a home and

it has been nearly a quarter of a Century now.

I could fill several libraries with the Volumes of

experience I have from the streets. Witnessing

the un-witnessable, experiencing the unimaginable,

living in a world that few can fathom. A world

that has completely fused itself to my heart,

body and soul, where I cannot say where

I end or where the streets begin, or where

the streets end and I begin... as we have

become interchangeable.

Christmas time on the streets is much like any other

day outside... with the exception of everything and

every place being closed and it is quieter as the

traffic of cars and people have slowed and calmed.

And the air is a different mix than usual...

filled with electric currents that you can feel,

coupled with the quiet calm that settles like fallen

leaves that brings a reverent Hush all around.

No, this is not how I ever wished or hoped to spend

Christmas, or any holiday or any day of the year,

on the streets, without a home as a permanent

resident outside. But this is where every day is

spent, regardless of the time of year or what day

it is or what it represents... Day after day, week

after week, month after month, year after

year, which has turned into DECADES.

It is easy to get lost in the days outside...

Being completely consumed and enveloped whole

by them and immersed within each one. When living

on the streets you become very present of every

moment while at the same time lose yourself

entirely in time's suspension.

With no place to go or be, especially when you need a

place to rest your body when your back wrenches out

on you, making it impossible to get around because the

pain splintering, spidering and ripping you to shreds

with every breath.. My body seizes in rupturing

pain that immobilizes me to a statue,

unable to move, or shift position.

Not being able to do anything or go anywhere,

not like I have any place to go, then made worse

with my back malfunctioning, Hiking will not be

happening this Christmas. But I think back to last

Christmas and the beauty of that hike. I Reflect and

thank the universe for allowing it then. It is rare

to remember Holidays on the streets, but this

is the 2^nd one that I will never forget

I know some were immersed in stormy weather,

some were sun filled and pleasant, and some were

filled with brutal, destructive high winds. But they

have blurred in memory... But not these last two

are crystal clear. I lose count of how many times

my back has gone out on me... several thousand,

and started before birth, my birth, and has

continued its endless assault on me since

then and I still don't know why it happens,

or how. It comes out of nowhere and strikes

without warning. hitting hard and fast.

It makes no difference what I am doing or what

position I am in. Sitting, laying down, walking,

dressing or undressing, pulling on my shoes,

brushing my teeth, picking up a pen...

it doesn't matter.

And this time it hit on Christmas Day. Being on

the streets is challenging enough as it is, but then

my body adding insult to injury, I have no

words to describe how it

affects my life.

Much like the endless, excruciating painful muscle

seizures through my legs and feet that have

happened my entire life. Charlie Horses from hell

that immediately seize my leg and feet muscles

then refusing to release its grip, and leaving

the areas extremely sore, tender and painful.

And since the pain has completely grounded

me this Christmas, I am spending the day

meditating and being thankful.

Another Christmas outside.

Christmas 2023

Thanksgiving - 2023

 

Thanksgiving on the Streets... 2023

The Gratitude Holiday....

Thanksgiving.... the only Holiday that has THANKS

and GIVING right in the name. As this is my 24^th

Thanksgiving outside, on the streets, I have a

tremendous amount to be thankful for and my

gratitude runs deep. But it has certainly not been

the path or journey I ever dreamed I would be on,

much less be forced to live on permanently. No one

dreams of living on the streets, at least I never did.

Nightmares, yes. But not dreamt of the streets

being “home”.

But Home it has become. Starting the beginning

of this Century and continues to be. Being home,

going home, on the way home... all take on different

meaning when it is on the street. Because there is no

set place, but rather moving (not by choice) regularly.

Having no place to actually call home, when you

have no “Verifiable Proof of Residence”,

the challenges, limits and restrictions of what you

can or cannot do, where you can or cannot go,

increase exponentially.

Playing a live version of Simon Says...

Libraries refusing you access to materials and free

resources. You cannot checkout materials, obtain or

renew a library card without verifiable proof of

residence. Even when you obtained the card prior to

them changing the rules. I had no problem getting

library cards, while living on the streets, until they

changed their rules and no longer allow anyone to

use the library unless they show proof of verifiable

proof of residency. So, I have been refused access

to the library, and cannot renew the cards I

have because they do not allow it.

Denying access to the resources to the ones who

need it the most, and would benefit the most

from, are readily denied the access.

Extremely discriminatory. Refusing access to

free resources that could help you find a

residence, because you do not have a residence.

How is that even legal?

That is just one of millions of examples that

keeps me on the streets. And not fitting the

narrative of what one is supposed to look like,

smell like and behave like when forced to live

outside, without a home, has been met with doors

being repeatedly slammed shut in my face for

not presenting myself in the Stereo-Typical,

commercialized version of what a homeless

person is and how they are supposed to be.

Even so, I have much to be grateful for.

With the gift of my vehicle, I have a thin layer

of protection against the raw elements,

especially as the weather turns into a freezer,

  so, I am not covered in Ice, Icy frost, dew, rain...

something I am tremendously grateful for.

And having a vehicle has an added benefit

from being in direct contact with the ground,

especially through the night... all the insects

that come out in droves to feed like parasites

as they affix themselves to your body no

longer has free and ready access to my body

for their feeding frenzy that I was forced to

endure for so long.

Having mobility, even limited, is a precious gift

that I am so grateful for. To be able to carry what

I need and being able to take care of basic needs

is a gift. Something my vehicle allows me to do.

Having been given permission to be where I am by

the chief of police in a couple cities, who personally

gave me permission to be where I stay, has

greatly reduced, if not completely eliminated,

the continual harassment from law enforcement.

It still happens, but nowhere near the constant

intrusions throughout the day and night.

And once they know I have permission

to be there, they pretty much leave me

alone. That in and of itself is a GIFT.

Living on the streets is truly a Tale of Two

Cities.... Seeing the extremes of Humanity,

both the very worst of people, the very

undersides of humanity, and the very best

of humanity. Living on the streets, you

experience the extremes and receive

from across the spectrum.

Being on the receiving end of the worst of the

worst, but also, at times, the very best. Though, the

worst heavily overshadows the best, I do my best to

focus on the best. And the best is certainly

the better example to live by.

Spending Thanksgiving on the streets, my

24^th one outside, is not spent in Traditions...

not in the traditional sense, but I have created

my own tradition; outside, with a stack of books,

that were loaned or given to me, in a park where I

spend the day reading, writing, meditating

and hiking, if weather permits, and making

freshly ground, fresh brewed coffee in

the outdoors, counting my blessings with

every sip, every step and every breath.

Holidays are not a special time for me... and if

I could erase them from the calendars, I would.

Holidays are meant for family and friends.

But for me, they are a time of reflection, a time

of introspection and a time to count the Gifts

all around me, and I lose myself in the process,

while expanding my Self in and through my

heart and immersing myself in the

Heartbeat of nature.

Thanksgiving on the streets.

The Breaking Dawn... 23 Years and Counting

 

The Breaking Dawn...

23^rd Anniversary of Living on the Streets...

A Time.... To Reflect

The start of this Century was the Beginnings of a

Journey I never wanted to take, much less be on for the

rest of my life, as a Permanent Resident of the Streets...

The harsh realities of living on the streets, outside, without

a home, is a test of true endurance. Most cannot withstand

the heavy, rigorous life shredding reality that living on the

streets presents... that is why most break with reality.

They just snap into themselves, and can no longer

trust their brain, as it betrays them in the most

devastating ways that are truly unimaginable,

until you are directly in the midst of it.

The harsh rigors of living in the Raw 24/7 eats away

at your heart and soul, taking a tremendously hard

toll on your body, your health and your life.

You must have a strong foundation and foundational core,

or you will crack hard and splinter in ways that can never

be mended and healed again. At the breaking point is

the start of where insanity truly begins. I have seen it

happen and witnessed when the point

of no return unfolded.

Living on the streets, you must be able to bend and

move within the restrictive constraints street life forces

upon you. But the majority are not able to adjust to the

harsh reality of being on the streets and turn to any

methods they can to suspend that reality by using and

abusing drugs, alcohol, smoking cigarettes, pot and

assorted other life destroying substances

and inhaling methods.

Mentally, Physically, Emotionally, Spiritually.... you need

to care for you, every part of you, living on the streets, to a

much greater degree than when you are supported with a

physical home that offers safety and protection, because

that is not there outside in the open where everything

and anything can, and often does, happen without

warning.

Living outside leaves you vulnerable in every

regard, and your body has been turned inside out

like a live wire. You live in Survival Mode, 24/7,

every moment of every day, and night without end.

We are used regularly as people's target practice just

for being present and visible. And our very presence

brings out the worst of the worst of humanity,  with 

rare exception, while our very presence has

 become a crime for not having a home.

Not welcome wherever you are, or where you go,

and cannot be where you are. Unlivable lives merely

existing where you are not allowed to BE and

have nowhere to go.

Out in the elements with no protection, all the bugs

greedily feeding on you through the night, using

you as their personal buffet, anytime, leaving their

marks like tattoos all over your body.

Facing this for a few days is taxing, but having to face

this for not just days on end, or weeks on end, or months

on end... but when you are facing this Permanently,

as the days, weeks, months and years turn into DECADES

and your daily diet consists of this, it does affect you, in

absolutely everything you do and how you do it.

It not only affects your thoughts, your body, your

health... but consumes your entire life. Living on the

streets embeds into every fiber of your being like

a Cyborg, where the streets literally

become who you are.

Your edges harden and sharpen, you learn to stop

reaching out to others for help or support, especially

when it comes to the so-called “Service Providers”,

who are there in name only. They receive massive

amounts of funding to help those outside, without a

home, without the safety or protection of having a

solid foundation... But only “help” those who

choose to destroy their lives through substance

abuse, nicotine, narcotics, alcohol or are illegal

immigrants or have dependent children.

They are not there for those of us that do not fit into

their narrative of who can and will receive “help”.

That is why, decade after DECADE, the Outdoor

arena remains my living space. I do not drink, or smoke,

or use or abuse drugs, I am not an illegal immigrant

and have no dependent children. As the chasms widen

further and extend farther away, I have fallen

further and deeper through the cracks.

I never developed, or even made the attempt to try,

any of the life destroying habits that so many choose

just to receive the most dismal of "assistance”. I have

never been an experimenter with my body or my

health. No drugs, no drinking, no smoking of any

kind, no tattoos, no body piercings, no hair dyeing,

perming, straightening, bleaching, coloring... I have

never fit the paradigm through any stage of life.

And I never have and never will fit the paradigm

of the stereotypical, commercialized version

of what homeless individuals are supposed

to look like, be like, act like or smell like.

So living through, or rather still existing, around the

periphery of life as my 23^rd anniversary of being

forced to live on the streets has circled

back to another year.

Not an anniversary I have ever wanted to experience,

and not one that should have ever happened, but

did and the years continue to add up.

Twenty-Three years in this Century.... and

twenty-three years (...and counting) of life

without a home that all started by and through

the illegal actions of a despicable landlord that I

have been forced to pay the price for.

Life on the streets...

A Challenging Life, to

say the least

 

Birthday Notes...

Birthdays to Myself...

Birthdays... this is my 22^nd Birthday on the street.

Just another irrelevant day, another forgotten day.

And when they pass each year, living on the

streets, they come and go without fanfare,

A day that should be scratched from Existence...

my life being erased before my eyes on the streets.

Marking my 22^nd birthday on the streets, with the

23^rd anniversary looming just days away... while

heading into my 24^th Holiday and Winter Season

outside. Never realizing that when I was forced

into this Season.... that it would be Permanent.

You lose yourself on the streets, and get lost

in the debris of humanity and

the undersides of life.

Spending the day in Nature and listening to her song;

while walking through her Beauty all around, meditating

and reading. How most of my days are spent, regardless

of the day. Living on the streets, every day is a mirror image

of all the ones before, and all the ones to come. The only

things that give any indication that anything is different is

the weather and the temperatures, the colors of the

seasons' cycles, otherwise, each day is exactly like

all the other days, days and nights blending

seamlessly into each other.

Time has no meaning on the streets. Two o'clock in the

afternoon may as well be seven o'clock in the morning.

5:00 AM or 10:30 PM....time is fluid and bendable,

contracting, expanding... or stopping altogether,

disappear, reappear and flow faster.

My one and only Birthday wish... is to finally awake

from the nightmare of living on the streets and

find that it was just that, a Nightmare where

time suspended completely and life itself restarted

as I wake from the dream world, with all the

lessons learned, everything I taught myself

remaining intact, while the hard corrosion

of life on the streets vanishing like

it never happened.

Another birthday on the streets... Another day,

like any other, on the streets as the nightmare

I cannot wake from continues to run...

Not a Birthday Gift I ever dreamed of

having or receiving...

Birthday notes to myself...

Happy Birthday

The Bowels of Life...

 

The Bowels of Life...

 

Life on the Street

 

 

Living on the streets... means living in the sewers of

the gutters of life. When you are forced out to the street,

it is literally being sent into the Bowels of life itself. 

 

No crueler punishment.

 

Life being turned upside down, and inside out, going from living

to barely existing, in the shadows, and becoming shadowy statues

that no longer exist in any meaningful way, where you are not

allowed to be where you are, no matter where you happen

to be. Your presence is “Illegal” and your criminal activity

is merely being visible. Where you are hard to miss,

but easy to ignore, as we are not seen as

Living, breathing, Feeling Beings.

 

Days lose their meaning and no longer has any

value, as every day looks and feels like all the rest,

While Your very life becomes an Intrusion.

 

You witness, experience, endure things no one should

as a direct result of being forced to live on the streets. 

Living on the streets, you quickly become an afterthought

that is Beside the point. Those moveable, shadowy icons...

shadow statues, where Learning how to live when you are not

allowed to BE anywhere.  You the learn the fine art of

Invisibility, becoming part of the Scenery, blending in so well,

that it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. 

 

Part of the Landscape, that was painted and sculpted

in place, losing your “Human” status when living on the street. 

For some reason, when you no longer have that Verifiable,

Proof of Living in a Residence, you are no longer seen or

Viewed as a Living, Breathing Human Being.

 

You literally cease to exist in the truest sense

when you no longer have those walls surrounding

you and the roof overhead. You lose your “Living”

status. Diminished, restricted, confining...

 

Invisibility has become my Specialty.

 

Collecting dust like a Shadow Box on the wall.

 

Yet, we are not to be seen or heard from.  You find yourself

searching for LIFE.... and how to find your way back inside of it,

and back inside.  But instead of finding your way back inside,

you find yourself sucked into a Black Hole that becomes

Vacuum Sealed that swallows you WHOLE.

 

You are blamed for things that have taken place, for what's

going on and happening or has happened... just being in the

vicinity is proof enough that we are to blame for the standing

discarded trash, the thefts, robberies, assaults, vandalism...

Discarded as waste, where the Human element

is completely removed.

 

You are repeatedly lied to by “Service Providers”, the police,

and organizations that are supposed to be there to help. 

Your integrity is always held suspect and questioned.

When anything happens to you and you report it, the

reports are “misfiled” and lost, discarded into the trash,

because after all... what do you expect “putting yourself out

here like that?” Yeah, like something I did, not something

I was forced into.  I did not choose to be out here,

 but have been forced to become a permanent resident

of the streets because of the illegal actions of a

despicable landlord, paying the price for his

illegal actions against me.

 

No one dreams of living on the streets, especially

not as a permanent resident, yet, those are the only dreams

I have now... living on the street because I have been out

here nearly half my life, and nearly a Quarter of a Century,

merely existing around the periphery of life itself.

On the exhaust fumes of Humanity.

 

You get sucked into the depths of the Black Hole

of the streets... Living on the streets takes a

tremendous toll on your body, heart, mind and soul...

in the most devastating ways that are literally

unimaginable, that is until you are living it and

experiencing every moment of it.

 

Living on the streets ages you decades.... long before

nature would. And does so, unsparingly. . I went from

being carded all the time, to automatically being given

“Senior Discounts” without knowing it until I received the

receipts and checked it.  It is one of the hazards of being

forced to live in a circumstance not of your choosing

and not having the rest or nutrition your body needs and

requires, but is readily deprived of. Everyone now assumes

I am a Senior Citizen, giving me 'Senior” discounts

automatically, never asking me if I am, yet continually

“carded” by the police just being present, minding my

own business and some jerk calls in on me for that

very fact, just being present and visible.

 

The challenge of finding restrooms to use...

of just taking care of essentials. Of finding food.

Safe places to stay through the night... is an

endless cycle that just loops and repeats, and

fully consumes every moment of your day. 

 

Being out in the elements every moment of the

day and all through the night, every day of the year

takes a tremendously hard toll on your body,

on your health, on your life and in all you do.

 

A permanent wardrobe is wrapped around you living on

the streets... but not of clothes. But one of Labels, categories,

classifications, etc. You are grouped as a whole that affects

everything you do and everywhere you go.  Living on the

streets colors everything you do. It consumes your life,

follows you in your dreams, while you live every moment of

your life on the Public's Movie Screen, where admission

is always free to the movie goers, at Our Expense.

Carrying the weight of Life, and your Life 

with you every step.

 

Your life and every facet of it becomes Public Domain. 

Where privacy has been completely erased in every

regard, no matter how private your business.  Everything,

absolutely Everything, you do is on the Public Movie

Screen of Life. Where nothing is off limits.

 

And your life is Swallowed Whole into and through

The Bowels of Life living on the streets.