I don't know how to begin except to tell the story.
Some of you will think I am crazy, some foolish and some maybe, will come to understand. It matters not.
I am taking a teacher training of sorts. More of a life training really. A continuation of a journey I started some 15 years ago. It has been the gift of my life, digging for buried treasure within my own soul. Sometimes the digging is deeper than I could ever imagine.
Saturday I spent 12 hours outside as a homeless person. I am a believer that it is impossible to truly be able to understand an experience, until you have lived it yourself. You can be compassionate, but you can't possibly relate to it in a real way.
I was given guidelines, including the fact I had to pee my pants and then wear them, and although I was with a partner, we were to stay within eye distance apart for safety, but this was not a "social" time. We doused ourselves with salmon oil out of a can I opened and I rubbed all my clothing in the dirt in our yard. It was not a contest to be the best dressed or dirtiest homeless person. It was about being uncomfortable in ways I would not usually be. We also had to beg.
I left home with my driver's license and my phone in case of emergency. My partners best friend emptied his pockets and handed me 50 cents in change. I was reluctant to take it, wanting to have the "real" experience. "Seed money" he said, "even homeless people have change."
We began our journey walking from 125 street to Churchill square which we figured was a safe destination as it is big, policed and well lit. We made an agreement, this friend and I, that whatever we begged for we would multiply by ten and donate to a homeless organization. We agreed that would push us out of our comfort zones to beg like our lives depended on it. One of the first few people we asked gave us change and then as we kept walking, came after us to tell us that bus drivers would let us get on the bus if we were going in the direction of the Bissell Center even if we didn't have bus fare. She told us about the shelters for the night and the Mustard seed and Hope Missions. She was very helpful and kind. She told us that she runs a facebook page called "People Helping People" as a hobby. I vowed in my head to check it out and make a donation. We continued on with our blue recycling bag of bottles, picking them up when we saw them. When we asked for spare change, on average one out of seven people would help. The others would walk by and sometimes we could hear the change jingling in their pockets but they wouldn't even meet our eyes. Some walked by like they didn't hear us. We were invisible.
It was a two hour walk and we passed the time with pleasant conversation. We were grateful the hurricane winds of the afternoon had died down and the temperature was almost pleasant.
We arrived at Churchill Square and looked around. We had thought to sit on grass instead of concrete, but realized the area it was in was not well protected or visible. We opted to sit on the concrete stands. I had purchased two wool army blankets, and I handed one to my friend and we separated a few yards. I walked to the top of the stands where I could see well anyone coming towards me. I didn't think about the fact there was no shelter. Newbie mistake.
As we sat quietly, we noticed a young family enter the square. A middle aged fair skinned man, a darker skinned lady and two small girls about 3 and 4 on scooters. I looked at my friend and laughed shrugging my shoulders, instantly going into judgment about what these parents were doing with little kids at this late hour. Time went by and I realized how much I was enjoying watching them zooming around in their little pink coats. "You have beautiful daughters!" I called out. And he waved to me smiling. They played a while longer and they quietly rolled off the other end of the square and disappeared from our view.
The wind had picked up, and as rule bound as I am, I decided that sitting closer to my friend was going to be the only option to get warm. I moved to the side of the concrete wall and we laid down one of the wool blankets so we could sit on it and not have the heat sucked out of us and we shared the other wool blanket to break the wind. I had only a pair of one size fits all Safeway stretchy gloves, the kind you use in a pinch. I thought I had brought others but when we got dressed they were no where to be found. They were useless. My hands started to ache from the cold. The temperature was steadily dropping. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the family again. They were walking towards us. The man had something in his hands. As he got closer I saw they were ski gloves. Two pair. He smiled and handed them to us. "It's not much" he said" but it will help. I used to have blankets in my truck. I don't know why I took them out.... " We thanked him profusely and slipped on the gloves which stopped the heat from draining out through my aching hands, and they left.
Minutes later a young native girl with lots of jewelry wearing clip on hair, long nails and a hoodie with playing some sort of PSP game came up to us and plopped herself down across from us under the railing. She mumbled something to the effect of "Hi, I'm just going to join you for a sec, that okay?" And then she rambled into some discussion around the game, how she got it and did we know how to work it and then it was all just jibberish. Like she was talking in tongues. I realize now perhaps it was me as I slipped into judgment again and worried whether she was a drug addict, a prostitute, were we going to be recruited.... She was probably totally intelligible but I heard her speaking some other language because I wasn't present.
Suddenly like a switch went off, she looked right at me and said "we look out for each other out here. Watch for the new ones. The ones that need help. That's how it works out here. In the morning breakfast is at the COOP. We call it the coop. Ask anyone like us. They can direct you. You don't have to sleep out here. I will walk you to the women's shelter, get you settled for the night. There are places to sleep......" 30 minutes later, we had a blue print for survival. Complete with where to get a resume, temp work, clothing and snacks. She opened her purse and the only thing in it was a plastic bottle of strawberry boost. "Here" she said as she handed it to me "nothing worse than an empty stomach." I took it, heavy with the fact I was going to take this gift with my dinner barely digested in my stomach. My friend and I shared it gratefully, as she watched smiling. "How did you get here? " I asked. "Do you have family here?"
"Yes and no. I used to steal. I changed but they still think of me like that. It's okay. 76% of the time I like my life. I have friends and freedom. The boys buy my nails and my hair. I got this new ring. Wanna hold it?"
"How old are you?"
" 34".
She handed my friend the rings off her chain and we looked at her treasure. As we were talking the family approached again from across the square arms filled with comforters, coffee, each child carrying a plastic bag. I lost it. I sobbed. The sight of this small family approaching with arms full, broke something open deep in my chest and I wept. "Don't cry" his wife said. "It's okay. Can I tuck you in?" And she took the comforters and with the loving touch of a mom, tucked them in around us against that cement wall. The man pulled a Safeway roast chicken out of the bag. "I ate the wings and legs for work, but there is still a lot here. "The rest of the bag had three sleeves of saltine crackers. Full. Two paper plates, cutlery, napkins. I couldn't see. The next thing I know he is handing us two huge 7/11 coffee and hot chocolate double cupped. "You can share", he said " if you like both. There are extra cups there. I thought you might like to try both.
We had offered our new friend an extra jacket we had with us and she had declined taking off her hoodie to sit on leaving her in a long sleeved shirt. "You got track pants? If you got track pants I'd take those. I like sweats." We didn't and she smiled and shrugged. I had on three pairs of long underwear, my peed pants, a tshirt, a fleece shirt, a hoodie and my oil skinned jacket. And I was numb. She didn't even shiver, acclimatized to the cold. I offered to share the food and to share the coffee and she only accepted the coffee and as I poured half into the extra cup she took the cup and returned half of her half again back into mine. We thanked the family again and they left and then our friend jumped up and said "I am supposed to meet a friend.. I gotta go.. See you around" And she was gone. Our unlikely angel.
I couldn't seem to stem the flow of tears and we sat in silence eating the chicken for quite a long time. Both in our own thoughts in the glow of the street lights. And then we saw them again. This time the two small pink coated girls skipping ahead, again each with a plastic bag. The oldest handed my friend a bag full of about 20 granola bars. The smallest gave me her bag looking into my eyes very seriously as her Dad told me in a pinch you can get energy from those. It was a bag full of ketchup packets, sugars and condiments. I can't tell you the feeling in my soul at that moment. I simply don't have the words. The power of the kindness. The things that went through me. Every time I had ever walked by someone on the street, even when I legitimately had no cash in my purse. Did I look in their eyes? I would give anyone anything. I love to give.
I don't think I have ever truly understood what it was to receive until that moment. I will never forget their faces. Five faces I will carry to my grave. Five people I will give thanks for every night of my life. Five reminders of generosity. Love. Kindness. Humanity. Five Angels among us.
When they left we looked at the time. It was 1:45 am. We huddled together but apart under the blankets until the temp dropped to the point we just spooned under all of the blankets. I was so cold I couldn't stop my legs from shaking. The ground make the points of my hips ache like knives were being inserted there. We would try to shift and the night was endless. I remembered the girl telling us 3-5 am was the worst part of the night. The coldest. If it got too bad go down into the subway she said. At 5, we bundled up all our stuff and walked down the 40 steps to get to the bottom to find the door locked. But down in the quazi shelter it was warmer. So we spread our blankets and sat by the door. Twenty minutes later the transit cop showed up.
We smiled at him. "What's your story? " he asked.
My friend looked at him, and at me, and she told him the truth. We are taking a teacher training of sorts. To learn how to facilitate. And in order to do that and support people who have been homeless, we needed some experience of that to be able to understand. He leaned against the door as she unwound the tale of our night and our angels and he was moved. At the end he said "well you will have had the full homeless experience because I have to kick you out of this area! I can't let you stay here in the entrance. You can say you were kicked out of the subway!"
He unlocked the door and told us to come inside where it was warm. We were surprised and beyond grateful. He said just go and get yourself settled. I will be back.
It was warm. And as I settled my head onto that scratchy green blanket, on that smooth white subway tile, I was grateful. My body melted onto the hard floor and held it's own heat on that warm surface. The man came back and said " I told my crew. No one will bother you until you are done" and he smiled, waved and walked away disappearing down the white subway tiled tunnel. Another angel.
My friend took inventory of the gifts we had been given. We talked about the significance of the night. What we had felt. I learned the most important lesson I have had so far in my life. The power of simple kindness. Of love for humanity in all it's guises.
When I got home my partner was waiting and hevstripped off all my dirty clothes and helped me into a hot bath. I cried the whole time. He sat with me beside the tub as I told the story and shared with him that my friend thought the whole situation was so unbelievable that she thought out of worry he had paid someone to look after us that night. When she said it, I had a moment of wonder. But he does this work. And I know, no matter how worried, he would not have interfered with my learning. But it did sound like him. At one point in the night, the trees and the buildings and shadows created his face in the night, huge, but recognizable. And I stared at the figment of him peering down at me, keeping me safe for a long while. Beside him was the shape of a giant indian elephant that kept grazing as the wind blew whatever was acting as a trunk. Ganesha. The remover of obstacles. I gazed long with unfocused eyes at the gentle giant beside my man.
But it wasn't him. It was people without any attachment. Kind strangers. Who marked me forever.
Let go and let God. I was taught the greatest lesson, that when I can drop the illusion of controlling everything and am simply present, when I can allow myself to become an instrument of the divine, and let others simply do the same, Miracles are not only possible. They are everywhere. My life will never be the same.
Next weekend we are off to the homeless shelters with the comforters, gloves, our blankets, the money and anything else I can fit into my truck to share with those who shared everything they had with us. I will look everyone in the eye. And I will never leave the house without some money just for that purpose in my purse.
As I sat in that hot tub I looked down at the key around my neck. Earlier that day in another expanding exercise I had come across a sign in a shop. The sign said
"The Giving Key" Los Angeles
When you get this key you must give it away at some point to a person you feel needs the message. Then write us the story of why you gave it away.
We employ those who are looking to transition out of homelessness.
There had been only one key left. I bought it and put it around my neck, excited to give it away that night as part of the process. The night had been so different than I imagined it would be and I forgot. And as I sat thawing my limbs in that steaming bathtub, I turned it over. The message stamped into the key was the word FAITH in block letters.
And I realized the message was for me.
The key is faith. It remains around my neck, and will until it is time to give it away. For now that lesson is mine.
In love and light,
Kathryn
Some of you will think I am crazy, some foolish and some maybe, will come to understand. It matters not.
I am taking a teacher training of sorts. More of a life training really. A continuation of a journey I started some 15 years ago. It has been the gift of my life, digging for buried treasure within my own soul. Sometimes the digging is deeper than I could ever imagine.
Saturday I spent 12 hours outside as a homeless person. I am a believer that it is impossible to truly be able to understand an experience, until you have lived it yourself. You can be compassionate, but you can't possibly relate to it in a real way.
I was given guidelines, including the fact I had to pee my pants and then wear them, and although I was with a partner, we were to stay within eye distance apart for safety, but this was not a "social" time. We doused ourselves with salmon oil out of a can I opened and I rubbed all my clothing in the dirt in our yard. It was not a contest to be the best dressed or dirtiest homeless person. It was about being uncomfortable in ways I would not usually be. We also had to beg.
I left home with my driver's license and my phone in case of emergency. My partners best friend emptied his pockets and handed me 50 cents in change. I was reluctant to take it, wanting to have the "real" experience. "Seed money" he said, "even homeless people have change."
We began our journey walking from 125 street to Churchill square which we figured was a safe destination as it is big, policed and well lit. We made an agreement, this friend and I, that whatever we begged for we would multiply by ten and donate to a homeless organization. We agreed that would push us out of our comfort zones to beg like our lives depended on it. One of the first few people we asked gave us change and then as we kept walking, came after us to tell us that bus drivers would let us get on the bus if we were going in the direction of the Bissell Center even if we didn't have bus fare. She told us about the shelters for the night and the Mustard seed and Hope Missions. She was very helpful and kind. She told us that she runs a facebook page called "People Helping People" as a hobby. I vowed in my head to check it out and make a donation. We continued on with our blue recycling bag of bottles, picking them up when we saw them. When we asked for spare change, on average one out of seven people would help. The others would walk by and sometimes we could hear the change jingling in their pockets but they wouldn't even meet our eyes. Some walked by like they didn't hear us. We were invisible.
It was a two hour walk and we passed the time with pleasant conversation. We were grateful the hurricane winds of the afternoon had died down and the temperature was almost pleasant.
We arrived at Churchill Square and looked around. We had thought to sit on grass instead of concrete, but realized the area it was in was not well protected or visible. We opted to sit on the concrete stands. I had purchased two wool army blankets, and I handed one to my friend and we separated a few yards. I walked to the top of the stands where I could see well anyone coming towards me. I didn't think about the fact there was no shelter. Newbie mistake.
As we sat quietly, we noticed a young family enter the square. A middle aged fair skinned man, a darker skinned lady and two small girls about 3 and 4 on scooters. I looked at my friend and laughed shrugging my shoulders, instantly going into judgment about what these parents were doing with little kids at this late hour. Time went by and I realized how much I was enjoying watching them zooming around in their little pink coats. "You have beautiful daughters!" I called out. And he waved to me smiling. They played a while longer and they quietly rolled off the other end of the square and disappeared from our view.
The wind had picked up, and as rule bound as I am, I decided that sitting closer to my friend was going to be the only option to get warm. I moved to the side of the concrete wall and we laid down one of the wool blankets so we could sit on it and not have the heat sucked out of us and we shared the other wool blanket to break the wind. I had only a pair of one size fits all Safeway stretchy gloves, the kind you use in a pinch. I thought I had brought others but when we got dressed they were no where to be found. They were useless. My hands started to ache from the cold. The temperature was steadily dropping. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the family again. They were walking towards us. The man had something in his hands. As he got closer I saw they were ski gloves. Two pair. He smiled and handed them to us. "It's not much" he said" but it will help. I used to have blankets in my truck. I don't know why I took them out.... " We thanked him profusely and slipped on the gloves which stopped the heat from draining out through my aching hands, and they left.
Minutes later a young native girl with lots of jewelry wearing clip on hair, long nails and a hoodie with playing some sort of PSP game came up to us and plopped herself down across from us under the railing. She mumbled something to the effect of "Hi, I'm just going to join you for a sec, that okay?" And then she rambled into some discussion around the game, how she got it and did we know how to work it and then it was all just jibberish. Like she was talking in tongues. I realize now perhaps it was me as I slipped into judgment again and worried whether she was a drug addict, a prostitute, were we going to be recruited.... She was probably totally intelligible but I heard her speaking some other language because I wasn't present.
Suddenly like a switch went off, she looked right at me and said "we look out for each other out here. Watch for the new ones. The ones that need help. That's how it works out here. In the morning breakfast is at the COOP. We call it the coop. Ask anyone like us. They can direct you. You don't have to sleep out here. I will walk you to the women's shelter, get you settled for the night. There are places to sleep......" 30 minutes later, we had a blue print for survival. Complete with where to get a resume, temp work, clothing and snacks. She opened her purse and the only thing in it was a plastic bottle of strawberry boost. "Here" she said as she handed it to me "nothing worse than an empty stomach." I took it, heavy with the fact I was going to take this gift with my dinner barely digested in my stomach. My friend and I shared it gratefully, as she watched smiling. "How did you get here? " I asked. "Do you have family here?"
"Yes and no. I used to steal. I changed but they still think of me like that. It's okay. 76% of the time I like my life. I have friends and freedom. The boys buy my nails and my hair. I got this new ring. Wanna hold it?"
"How old are you?"
" 34".
She handed my friend the rings off her chain and we looked at her treasure. As we were talking the family approached again from across the square arms filled with comforters, coffee, each child carrying a plastic bag. I lost it. I sobbed. The sight of this small family approaching with arms full, broke something open deep in my chest and I wept. "Don't cry" his wife said. "It's okay. Can I tuck you in?" And she took the comforters and with the loving touch of a mom, tucked them in around us against that cement wall. The man pulled a Safeway roast chicken out of the bag. "I ate the wings and legs for work, but there is still a lot here. "The rest of the bag had three sleeves of saltine crackers. Full. Two paper plates, cutlery, napkins. I couldn't see. The next thing I know he is handing us two huge 7/11 coffee and hot chocolate double cupped. "You can share", he said " if you like both. There are extra cups there. I thought you might like to try both.
We had offered our new friend an extra jacket we had with us and she had declined taking off her hoodie to sit on leaving her in a long sleeved shirt. "You got track pants? If you got track pants I'd take those. I like sweats." We didn't and she smiled and shrugged. I had on three pairs of long underwear, my peed pants, a tshirt, a fleece shirt, a hoodie and my oil skinned jacket. And I was numb. She didn't even shiver, acclimatized to the cold. I offered to share the food and to share the coffee and she only accepted the coffee and as I poured half into the extra cup she took the cup and returned half of her half again back into mine. We thanked the family again and they left and then our friend jumped up and said "I am supposed to meet a friend.. I gotta go.. See you around" And she was gone. Our unlikely angel.
I couldn't seem to stem the flow of tears and we sat in silence eating the chicken for quite a long time. Both in our own thoughts in the glow of the street lights. And then we saw them again. This time the two small pink coated girls skipping ahead, again each with a plastic bag. The oldest handed my friend a bag full of about 20 granola bars. The smallest gave me her bag looking into my eyes very seriously as her Dad told me in a pinch you can get energy from those. It was a bag full of ketchup packets, sugars and condiments. I can't tell you the feeling in my soul at that moment. I simply don't have the words. The power of the kindness. The things that went through me. Every time I had ever walked by someone on the street, even when I legitimately had no cash in my purse. Did I look in their eyes? I would give anyone anything. I love to give.
I don't think I have ever truly understood what it was to receive until that moment. I will never forget their faces. Five faces I will carry to my grave. Five people I will give thanks for every night of my life. Five reminders of generosity. Love. Kindness. Humanity. Five Angels among us.
When they left we looked at the time. It was 1:45 am. We huddled together but apart under the blankets until the temp dropped to the point we just spooned under all of the blankets. I was so cold I couldn't stop my legs from shaking. The ground make the points of my hips ache like knives were being inserted there. We would try to shift and the night was endless. I remembered the girl telling us 3-5 am was the worst part of the night. The coldest. If it got too bad go down into the subway she said. At 5, we bundled up all our stuff and walked down the 40 steps to get to the bottom to find the door locked. But down in the quazi shelter it was warmer. So we spread our blankets and sat by the door. Twenty minutes later the transit cop showed up.
We smiled at him. "What's your story? " he asked.
My friend looked at him, and at me, and she told him the truth. We are taking a teacher training of sorts. To learn how to facilitate. And in order to do that and support people who have been homeless, we needed some experience of that to be able to understand. He leaned against the door as she unwound the tale of our night and our angels and he was moved. At the end he said "well you will have had the full homeless experience because I have to kick you out of this area! I can't let you stay here in the entrance. You can say you were kicked out of the subway!"
He unlocked the door and told us to come inside where it was warm. We were surprised and beyond grateful. He said just go and get yourself settled. I will be back.
It was warm. And as I settled my head onto that scratchy green blanket, on that smooth white subway tile, I was grateful. My body melted onto the hard floor and held it's own heat on that warm surface. The man came back and said " I told my crew. No one will bother you until you are done" and he smiled, waved and walked away disappearing down the white subway tiled tunnel. Another angel.
My friend took inventory of the gifts we had been given. We talked about the significance of the night. What we had felt. I learned the most important lesson I have had so far in my life. The power of simple kindness. Of love for humanity in all it's guises.
When I got home my partner was waiting and hevstripped off all my dirty clothes and helped me into a hot bath. I cried the whole time. He sat with me beside the tub as I told the story and shared with him that my friend thought the whole situation was so unbelievable that she thought out of worry he had paid someone to look after us that night. When she said it, I had a moment of wonder. But he does this work. And I know, no matter how worried, he would not have interfered with my learning. But it did sound like him. At one point in the night, the trees and the buildings and shadows created his face in the night, huge, but recognizable. And I stared at the figment of him peering down at me, keeping me safe for a long while. Beside him was the shape of a giant indian elephant that kept grazing as the wind blew whatever was acting as a trunk. Ganesha. The remover of obstacles. I gazed long with unfocused eyes at the gentle giant beside my man.
But it wasn't him. It was people without any attachment. Kind strangers. Who marked me forever.
Let go and let God. I was taught the greatest lesson, that when I can drop the illusion of controlling everything and am simply present, when I can allow myself to become an instrument of the divine, and let others simply do the same, Miracles are not only possible. They are everywhere. My life will never be the same.
Next weekend we are off to the homeless shelters with the comforters, gloves, our blankets, the money and anything else I can fit into my truck to share with those who shared everything they had with us. I will look everyone in the eye. And I will never leave the house without some money just for that purpose in my purse.
As I sat in that hot tub I looked down at the key around my neck. Earlier that day in another expanding exercise I had come across a sign in a shop. The sign said
"The Giving Key" Los Angeles
When you get this key you must give it away at some point to a person you feel needs the message. Then write us the story of why you gave it away.
We employ those who are looking to transition out of homelessness.
There had been only one key left. I bought it and put it around my neck, excited to give it away that night as part of the process. The night had been so different than I imagined it would be and I forgot. And as I sat thawing my limbs in that steaming bathtub, I turned it over. The message stamped into the key was the word FAITH in block letters.
And I realized the message was for me.
The key is faith. It remains around my neck, and will until it is time to give it away. For now that lesson is mine.
In love and light,
Kathryn
