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.

2019 In Closing

2019 In Closing...

Another year coming to a close and another one about to begin.

This year has been overfilled and overflowing with devastating blows,

and one of the hardest to bare, especially in terms physically.

Deep into my 20^th Winter and Holiday Season outside.

Each day becoming more of a challenge to face and endure.

Food, something that is supposed to bring healing, has been more

damaging than anything else. The healthiest foods becoming the

worst culprits. And made worse when you have no place to go

for rest and allow for healing. Living on the streets means

your body lives and stays in a stressed out place that can never

be at rest. Your body and your life, continually unsettled.

20 FULL Seasons of not being able to eat reguarly, or properly.

Of not being able to rest, to heal, to BE. Of having nowhere to

go, no bed to sleep on, no kitchen to store, prepare and cook

real food. Your life and health are always being heavily

compromised because of it. Being exposed to

everything 24/7, builds your immunity to some regard,

while at the same time, destroying you completely.

They say “Time Heals All Wounds...”, but I have found the

opposite to be true, that the more TIME I am forced to

live, or merely exist in any sense of Life, outside without a home,

the more damage results. My body more of a vestige relic

of what no longer is. Shelled out and gutted...

Being lied to by all these various “Support” agencies, claiming

they are there to help and support the Homeless... claiming

they have the resources and expereince to help, yet continually

refusing the help they claim to offer for not being their

stereo-typical Homeless person that is always

projected, but does not portray the reality of.

Filling my head with empty promises, my heart with false hope,

with endless words with no meaning, while making

fabricated claims of all they will do, and how they will help

support me to move into more of the actual LIVING part of Life.

My heart sinking deeper in the empty hollowness each passing

moment I am forced to live on the outskirts of life itself.

As the weeks, months, years and decades go by with

increasing speed, I remain on the sidelines watching

and witnessing every moment of life fade in the

distance. As time moves forward, life is supposed

to be getting better, not worse. But life is

moving in reverse and getting worse as more

time passes, when you live on the streets.

Living on the streets changes you in so many ways,

and in ways you can never imagine. My life from before,

has long since ceased to exit. Has become more a figment

of imagination that is blurred and distorted, like a burned

photograph pulled from the ashes....you can no longer

tell what the image had been. Or from when.

2019 has truly been one of the WORST years I have

expereinced, and one I am glad to close and shut forever.

Not a year I will hold fondly in memory, and hoping to erase

it completely. Trying to find little flickers of Hope, of

Faith, of some semblance of MEANING and I am

coming up emtpy. Losing Hold of the WHY.