Birthday Dreams...

Birthday Dreams…

My birthday dream, wish, hope and prayer for today….

Is something I will never have in my life…

My 17^th birthday spent on the streets…. Coming into my 18^th Anniversary of

having to live on the streets, and heading into my 19^th Holiday Season 

without a home. People have been born and already completed 

high school in the lifetimes I have been forced to live life on the streets.

Not a place anyone should have to spend their lives,

much less their birthdays. Or any Holidays, for that matter.

Being cast to the side, sidelined from the mainstreams of life.

A day that really should never have come about, in any sense of 

the word.  Life takes cruel turns and sharp veers off the roads…..

and drops you from any semblance that life once held.

I never imagined that life, my life, would be halted indefinitely, 

forced to live on the streets that all started by and through the 

illegal actions of a landlord, and perpetuated by the cruel system 

that claims to offer their so-called “help”, but only if you fit the 

extremely narrow confines of the requirements; 

have the life destroying habits of 

- cigarettes, 

- alcohol,

- chemical dependencies,

- or have dependent children,

- be an illegal immigrant,

- or be a senior citizen.

When you are clean, nothing in the form of any assistance exists.

My life being removed right before my very eyes….

My Birthday Wish…. My Birthday Hope….My Birthday Prayer…

is to feel amazing, be pain free, and live in the privacy of my own home.

Have the privacy to use a real bathroom for all I need to do, instead of 

being on full display every moment of the day and all through the night…

have a real kitchen to cook, prepare and store foods,

have a real bed to sleep in and finally get the rest my body has been

deprived of for decades. And just BE without having the cops

called on me for just being present, or being harassed

for not having a home to go to.

Decades of my life have been removed and discarded.

Those years cannot be restored or replaced.

And not ones I want to remember.

So Happy Birthday to me, again……

Another one without a home and alone.

A life that is becoming more wasted and withered with

each passing moment having to spend it outside.

Life atrophying with each breath…like a decaying residue.

Happy Birthday!!!

Whispers of Hope...

~ Whispers of Hope ~

That's what you find when you're on the streets that come through in the little

things that make an incredible difference -- A warm embrace, a gentle touch,

a kind word – these are the Whispers of Hope embedded deep within the heart,

something that can only be given, truly given straight from the heart,

making a world of difference in your life.

There is always an upside to everything, regardless of circumstance – including

being homeless and having to live year after endless year on the streets.

Being out here has brought to my life some of the most remarkable people I

have been blessed to know, whom I otherwise would not have had the pleasure of meeting if I were not homeless and forced to live out here. Those out here on

the streets, as well as though rare few who are not who have brought such

beautiful gifts of love, warmth, and humanity with a glimmer of HOPE

to my heart and my life. Enriching my heart on the deepest level at the

very core of my being...

The negative aspects of being on the streets are endless and weigh heavily

on your heart and soul, and would consume me whole, if I let it. That's why I

do my best to shift that focus onto more positive things, which at times truly

becomes a treasure hunt in the truest sense of the word. Those Whispers of Hope

are what keeps me going, pushing forward and sustaining me. Keeping it close

to your heart so you can call it forth when it's really needed.

When you are homeless, sometimes the physical fact of that circumstance

overshadows everything else around you, including the blessings that are generally disguised as something else so you don't always recognize them for what they are.

Every morning, I pull out a little journal and pen some Gratitude pages.

More often than not, that first stroke of my pen is so difficult,

trying to find something, anything, to really be Grateful for. Sometimes,

I have to look all around me to come up with even a few, but I do,

each and every day find something, many things, actually, to be grateful for.

Every morning, and most evenings, I have a front row seat for the

starts and ends to each day. Being witness to the sunrises, when it is not

overcast or raining, and the sunsets each evening. The songs of the

birds all around me, all the animals that share my space

and allow me to share in theirs.

My Gratitude list grows each and every day.... but it doesn't go down or diminish.

There are days that being Grateful is really hard,

especially with the forced circumstance I was put in and

everything I have to contend with.

But there is not a day that goes by that I fail to count the blessings in my life.

The Compromise....

~ The Compromise.... Life on the Streets ~

Life is an endless series of compromise. And when that 

life is lived on the streets, even more so. Our lives, our health, 

our safety.... what we eat, how we live; are all deeply compromised. 

Without refrigeration, we cannot keep and safely store foods.

Our sleep is compromised and continually disturbed,
being rudely woken more nights than not, sometimes 

several times a night, just for not having the

luxury of sleeping inside a home, on a warm bed.

Comforts of Life.... have been compromised so completely, 

you forget what it was even like to have it a part of your life. 

You never realize what you had until it is gone, and then it 

is too late to really appreciate it for what it was and all it did.

Your very personality changes living on

the streets, from the inside out....and outside in.

The only language my body speaks and communicates 

in is through pain. Why is this the only language my 

body is fully fluent in and knows?

Decades of my life have been taken from me, consumed 

by the Streets. Everyday a painful and pain-filled reminder. 

Not a few days, a couple weeks, or a month or two, 

but decades of my life have been consumed on the streets.

I have spent several lifetimes on the streets....

Lifetimes that can never be recovered.

Living on the streets teaches you things just by being in a 

circumstance not of your choosing, but imposed on you, 

regardless. Nature truly is the Best Teacher.

It teaches you to be resourceful, and improvise as you

go along, using what you have on hand and all around. 

I have learned about the very essence of life

while on the streets. Nature teaches you how to survive 

by the very nature of being in Nature. And survival becomes 

second nature because of Nature.

You become a survivalist by the very nature

                                                        of being out in Nature.

You become better at disengaging.

I've learned how to make great coffee without the use of a 

coffee maker, and it turns out so much better and richer 

than any coffee maker could make. I've learned how to cook 

without the use of a kitchen, by using and utilizing

what I have all around me. Using a single item for 

hundreds of other uses.

Improvising through life, every moment of every day.

Living on the streets becomes more of a fine art, and the 

best training ground for life. Teaching you how to let go and 

move on, while learning to let things be as they are. 

Life teaching you on the Fly about how to be.

And should be included as an Olympic Sport...

I would medal at the very top!!

Living on the street takes camping to a whole new level.

Living on the Streets teaches you to be more resilient, stronger 

than you thought possible, and finding strength just by 

being present. Nature teaches you to adapt, because 

you have no other option available to you. It forces you to

change and bend to its will, not your own at any given time.

It conditions you to adhere to its Rules, and Will.... 

another Compromise.

Improvisation becomes second nature in all you do. You learn to

MacGyver your way through life when you live on the streets,

without the comforts of home, using a

single item for multiple purposes, like re-purposing LIFE

every moment of the day, all day, everyday

Living on the Streets

…. A Blessing and a Curse

You learn more about living and LIFE on the streets than

you could ever learn in any classroom. Nature teaches you

everything – about life, about death and what truly

matters in the deepest context.

You learn a lot about life, more about death and what truly

matters living on the streets. You come face to face

with who you really are – at the core level.

You find out what you are truly made of.

The lessons you learn on the streets are immeasurable in life. 

it changes who you are and strips you down until there is nothing

left and builds you up, literally forcing you to become a different you---

in every way, shape and form.

Being on the streets is wholly consuming, completely draining 

and leaves you depleted and raw, while hardening you 

around the edges and cutting you to the very core.

Life....and endless series of Compromise.

The Carbon Copy Life...

~ The Carbon Copy Life ~

A Life on the Streets...

Life on the streets becomes more of a Carbon Copy of a life, 

Xeroxing copy after copy, day after day, night after night, week after 

week, month after month..... and year after endless year, that 

diminishes a little more after the next copy made, rather 

than a true life of any substance.

The colors, that were once vibrant and alive, now faded like a photo

or article of clothing being left out too long in the sun.

Once you are caught in the Vortex of Street life...

the light at the end of the tunnel has disappeared entirely and 

covered over by the debris of life, where living becomes your next 

breath, next step, next morsel of food, next place of rest....

Living in a dreamland of nightmares that you can never wake from.

I have found that life is not about getting what you want, or what you need, 

it's about destroying who you are and continually taking away from you.

Leaving you depleted and raw, while at the same time, hardened

around the edges and cutting you to the core.

You wonder, time again, why am I here??? To serve what purpose?

What is the point of “life” when you are denied every aspect of life?

Going around in circles, getting nowhere. Each path brings you back 

to where you were, like being stuck perpetually on the hamster wheel, and

no matter how hard you train, run and condition..... you find it matters not

because it is all a moot point, that is taking you nowhere.

Is there a point to it all??? When life was being dished out, I must have not 

been paying attention to the line I got in. Right from the start, I missed 

the line I was supposed to be in. So each and every turn I have taken in 

life has been all wrong. No matter which direction or path I have gone down, 

nothing about it has ever been right, has ever worked out like it should have.

Nothing good has ever really come from taking this path, or that direction.

I have heard rumors that life was supposed to be fun and joyous.... where is this?

Not in any place I have ever been, not in any experience I have lived through.

I have seen good, from a distance.... I have witnessed the rawness of life in 

every regard. I have seen the bad, experienced the worst life has to offer,

and yet I continue to push forward and take another breath, and step in

more directions. The rhythm of life is always present, whether you are

experiencing the good, the bad, or something in between....

life cycles through. I have just never liked being part of that cycle,

not in terms of life that I have been here to live, if one could really call living and 

merely existing along the seams and edges of society truly a “life”. Living on the

streets, you are not part of the whole, even though we are all “connected”, 

there is little to no connection in the truest sense. For example, if and when

anything happens; which it has and does on a regular basis, I have no one to call, 

no one to be there, no one to listen. Just to have someone there to check

in on you, see how you are.... but the only ones who “check” on me,

are always the cops, usually after someone has

called in on me for just being present.

The only one I have ever truly had to talk to is my notebook... it is always

there for me, and I unleash it all to it. Once I have released all the build up,

it opens me to more of life, in whatever capacity that life may be. Writing has

always been and continues to be my outlet for LIFE.... and all that happens in it.

Everything I experience, everything I go through, is penned or keyed until it is

no longer pressing so hard to be released, in some form or another.

Also, reading is another drug of choice that allows and affords me to release,

but in a different way. I cannot read without always learning something

along the way, through the measure of words. So reading is not a mindless

activity for me, as some read to do. It brings ideas and thoughts

more to life, and add to my own.

But both, reading and writing, give me the ability to process this thing

called life my way... and in the end, that is really all it is about.

Process life in a way that you can bring substance to.

Life Happens...

Life Happens....

Life happens..... some good, some very, very bad. And sometimes, things fall in between.

I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had been welcome, instead of discarded.

Having a life that actually matters, one that I was wanted right from the start.... but life,

my life, did not start that way. Just the opposite. My life never should have been, my

birth should have never happened. But unfortunately, it did, and I am left forever

picking up the pieces left behind and discarded since. I know people

(Mistakenly believing we were friends, only to find I was nothing more than

a circumstance to them) whose lives have been deeply blessed every step of the way....

having multiple homes in different countries, travel the world over, many times over,

spending weeks and months on end at various places.

Their kids literally growing up on airplanes.

And then there are ones like me...... my life could not be more different in contrast.

Blessed rarely, having more bad luck than anything else in life. What would life have

been like if I had been treated as a friend, on a personal level, instead of just the

debris cast to the wayside and seen as only a circumstance and not a living,

breathing, feeling person???? How different would things be?

Would life hold any meaning? Would I want to be here???

Would life hold joy and love????

Things that have never been a part of my life that I can ever recall,

not in any meaningful way. Having a life where you are never once accepted

for who you are, as you are, not welcome wherever you go. I am making the best of a

bad situation I was forced into, time and again.

And no matter what I do, I am criticized, ridiculed, made fun of, laughed at., mocked.

And I wonder, time and again, why am I here??? To serve what purpose?

A Life punishment..... living on the streets, my life..... so really, what is the point?

Being sentenced for a crime you never committed.

I have died a million times over on the streets, and died a different kind of death

when I was forced to live my life on the streets. With a body that has continually and

completely turned against itself at every moment of my life, a life that is not worth the

mere existence it has become. My life and body has always felt like a cruel Joke of the

Universe, straight from God. A punishing curse than anything to cherish and be truly

grateful for. Living in excruciating pain every day of my life, my body never once working

like it is “supposed” to. Never once functioned like the books say it should. It does its own

thing with little regard to being attached to me. And the endless pain and grief that it has

wrought in its wake. Living in pain, barely existing around the edges of life...

Never once did I ever think or believe my life would be taken from me, eviscerated

of all that matters, then cast to the debris left behind in Humanity's wake.

But having spent nearly half my life, in the barest form of existence, on the streets....

life has changed in every way, means something entirely different when it is lived without a home,

or the comforts and security that affords. Time shifts, changes, and morphs into extending without end. 

 Days go by without realizing one has changed into the next..... years flash by without warning.

Time is lost track of, brought back, and lost again. Dates have no meaning,

as one is the same as the next, and the ones before.

The context of life takes on different textures and feels on the streets, that cannot be

experienced anywhere else. Life tastes different, looks different, feels different on the streets.

It changes you in ways you could never dream of, seeps so deeply and indelibly in and

through your entire being, and every cell and atom in your body.

Changes you in ways that cannot be erased.

Images burned into your vision that cannot be changed.

Experiencing things in life that would make the most hardened criminal flinch,

and yet it becomes second nature to those of us living without a home.

It is truly amazing what your body and mind become used to, just by being

exposed to, it time and again. And it becomes part of your life, and who you are as a person.

Living on the streets changes how you approach life, how you react, what you do...

in every way. It changes how you breathe, how you eat, how you sleep, how you clean up.

There is no part of your life unchanged from life on the streets.

Life on the Streets.... Detracts from Living.