Going Homeless to Find Home

"This is a therapy issue" were the first words out of my fathers mouth. "If you need help in paying for it, I am happy to help."  It was meant to be supportive, I think. I had told him I had the overwhelming urge to leave my job, my man, and my home to live as a homeless person. It wasn't something that just happened over night. It had been gnawing at me for months. Six months, eight months, maybe even a year I tried to think of ways to do it with out loosing everything I had built and enjoyed. Maybe he was right, maybe I was crazy, but the thought didn't leave my soul. He even talked to family friends about it, and had them call me to convince me not to do it. Nothing worked. I'm not even sure that I wanted to do it, to be honest. I just knew it was something I had to do, and I didn't even really know why. So I left my job, left my man, and found a friend to rent my house for four months. I bought a HD camera and started on my way with a oversized back pack. The first couple months were completely depressing. I felt both lost and confused. Who am I? What am I doing ? I spent much of my time in homeless shelters, sleeping in camps, sometimes a couch of someone I knew, and most often monasteries. I cried a lot. I thought why would I leave Hollywood  at 26 when I was working in a company that was deemed the future of the industry, living in a castle in the Hollywood Hills, and had a boyfriend that would have supported almost anything I did. And yet,  I wanted something more. I kept joking before I was going to close friends that I think it was supposed to be a honeymoon with god, but I didn't really know what that meant, and when I was starting the journey I didn't feel particularly in love, or happy. I was depressed, sad, and confused. I didn't know what was happening at the time, but I can see now quite clearly that I was letting go of a false self. A self that is based on situational identity. This is my family, this is where I grew up, this is my education, this is my job, my friends, my home, my money. Blah blah blah. But, I gave it up, so who am I now? Often we can not find our true self until we have completely lifted from our attachments to the false selves. Then the pain started to lift, a fog of ego fears that were running circles around my soul didn't have much of a place anymore. It was somewhere in the middle when I ended up in northern california in Mount Shasta. I remember sleeping hidden in a bush in my super sleeping bag, feeling a bit cold, and waking up with snow on me. The mountain peaked in the early morning glory, as had I. My new self was emerging. It was a clearer self, a self that knew no boundaries, but had a foundation. A self that loved parents but wasn't dictated by them. Appreciated money, but wasn't defined by it. Enjoyed life, but wasn't attached to the exact way it should progress. This self was more solidified almost a month later while staying in a Buddhist monastery in Mount Shasta. We meditated three times a day, much of my time I was just starring at a wall. But, one day something happened that confirmed all I needed. You could call it a glimpse of enlightenment, a taste of nirvana, a kensho, or just a  groovy state of mind. But, all I really remember is feeling completely at one with the moment in a state of a bliss and peace so deep I have never experienced it before. And, I knew in that moment beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was home. That was what I had been looking for the entire time, and yet I didn't know it until that moment. I had indeed needed to go homeless to find my true and everlasting home.    

Butterscotch Candy

It was seven thirty at night, late to be visiting Grandma Joan. I'm not sure what the usual bedtime is for a woman in her late eighties, but I wouldn't gather it would go past eight. I wanted to check on her though, even if she was asleep, as my folks were out of town and she wasn't getting her usual daily visits. I walk in and they tell me they have her already tucked in bed, but I can still go see her anyway, no problem. I go upstairs and find her as they said, Pajamas, check. Water by bed, check. Comforters tucked in at every corner, check check. Grandma Joan wide awake and ready for a Friday night party triple check. What? "Who's that?" she says as I slip in the room. "It's Simone, Grandma Joan." "Oooh Simone!!" She says. "Did I catch you at an ok time? I don't wanna keep you up." " Oh goodness"  she says " No, perfect timing I was just looking for some company, what should we do?" And, for a moment I feel caught, should I go down and get her secret stash of wine? Or, maybe I can get the nail polish out  and we can do  her nails? Or, maybe I can find something fun on the T.V.? The list flashed quickly through my mind. "Well, that's up to you Grandma Joan, I'm just here to spend some time with you. Would you like something to drink?" "Yes" she says, and before I can think of grabbing the wine from the basement she says. "Hand me that cup of water by my bed please will you?" So, I do, and then realize she is lying completely flat and I am not exactly sure how this drinking process is going to work. I envision trying to pour a fountain of water down her throat, nope, not going to work. Definitely not going to work." So, Grandma Joan, do you want me to..." and then I see the bed is slightly lifted in the back already. Oh, it's one of those beds, I think to myself, those magical moving beds. Now if I could only figure out how to move it. "Down there" she says and points towards her feet, where I see a fancy bed remote. Oh no, I have visions of Grandma Joan being turning into a human pretzel as I can't figure out to stop the bed from lifting her feet over her head. But, it worked out, she eventually got her water. And, as she was happily drinking she turned to me and said " You know what we need up here are some straws." Brilliant, I thought to myself, she has it, the woman still has it. 

We get into discussions that I say I haven't have been able to have with her for at least over a year, as her dementia has been progressing in it's presence. She asked me about my father, and told me how wonderful he was, and when she first met him she said to her daughter. "This is it for you, you either marry this man or it's off to the convent for you because your nuts!" I comment that she seems to have a knack for picking good men, as she did with her husband of over sixty years. "Oh goodness" she says to me. "Oh Bill, I love him so much, I think about him all the time, I even dream about him." I mention that my folks are at a wedding for one of her older grandchildren and she fondly remembers a toe ring I had given to her at her last grandchild's wedding. The ring was actually on my toe, but she liked it so much I gave it to her. She rocked that toe ring as anyone could. I mention to her that the summer is coming and she says "Oh yes, I'll have to get a new dress for that, and then put on the toe ring." We laughed, we laughed a lot. I can't even remember what all about, but you know you've had a good time when Grandma Joan is laughing. She has one of those special laughs where her jaw actually drops to her chest, and if you're lucky you'll get a hand through the her hair and a slap on the knee all at the same time.  I kept worrying that I was keeping her up, and when I would mention it she would say "If you were keeping me up, I would tell you." And, it was true. One thing about Grandma Joan is you always know where you stand with her. So the night continued. I re-filled her water cup about three times, and mine as well. We were two hydrated partiers. Over two hours later she finally acknowledged she was a little sleepy and it was time for me to go. I got her all set up and hovered close for my goodbye. "You know Grandma Joan" I say "you look beautiful", and she did, white hair, serene face, glimmer in the eye, and she looks right back and me and says "Goodness, I was just about to tell you the same thing," and then she flat out giggled "If someone were watching us, they would think we were in love." I laughed really hard at that one. "Tell your folks what a nice time we had tonight, will you?" she says, and I nod. And, then she pauses for a moment and looks at me with love, but a very serious expression "But, next time, bring candy." And, I tried not to bust out in an eruption of laughter. "Oh yeah, candy? like chocolates?". " No" she says "Not, chocolate, that's not good for you. Bring those hard candies, like the ones you can suck on." "Berry flavored?" I ask, my knowledge of candy being limited. "No", she says Butterscotch, butterscotch candies."  It's good to know even in a world of dementia and an ailing body, that we can get these magical moments, these great evenings that are so full of joy and wonder that the only thing that might possibly make them any better is a small butterscotch candy. Sweet, with a lot of bite, that's her alright.        

Sanely Insane

Some months ago someone was asking me a little bit about myself, and what I like to do, and how I live, and I mentioned a few things, and they said.."No offense, but that sounds a little crazy..."
Something I have heard many many times in my life..."No offense, but that sounds a little crazy."

And, the truth is that I am not offended in the slightest, but I have often come to question what it is that we have come to deem as normal. What scares me is the things that we don't even look at or question anymore, as so many of our thoughts are choices have been automatically conditioned by society.
I sit down on a park bench with a homeless guy, and try to hear his story, and people think I'm nuts. Meanwhile I think it's amazing how we can walk by these people, and don't even see them anymore, like they don't even exist. They might as well be park benches themselves. I moved into a new place about six months ago, and didn't buy a bed. I still haven't bought a bed. I have been sleeping so great on the floor. People that have come to know about it laugh at me daily. What's wrong with sleeping on the floor? We slept out in caves for years, many people today still sleep on the ground in impoverished countries, and don't even have a nice carpet and plush blankets as I have. We are in a privileged position to be thinking that sleeping in a nice fluffy bed is the norm. I am not making a plea for everyone to talk to homeless people, and to sleep on the floor. I am making a plea to open your eyes and look at the world and try to make fresh decisions out of the conditioning of society. We have been so conditioned that our life should follow certain tracks just because those are set before us.

It becomes more dangerous for larger choices such as war and slavery. Slavery was seen as normal before someone took a risk to stand out against it, and then others followed. Women were allowed to vote later then black men, and today the thought is women not being able to vote just seems unbelievable. Sleeping on the floor and hanging out with homeless people are relatively mundane tasks, and think if I get that much flack for those things, think about the silent pressures to conform over larger and more important matters. Group think is a very thick and transparent poison that can be toxic. Take a stand to think for yourself, what seems insane actually might be much more sane then you first realize. And, the ultimate litmus can only be the voice deep inside your self.