I experienced a brilliant moment of emotion this morning.
An upwelling of tears and sadness freely flowed through me.
I write this because I wasn't always like this. I used to think that vulnerability was a weakness.
I used to think that I had to hide many facets of my humanity. Now, I walk through the bustling city
streets of downtown, holding my chest and openly weeping. Now, I rejoice in this be-ing human.
So, I was returning from my walk up that Golden Hill, with coffee in hand.
My mind was reflecting and contemplating as my body tried to remember to simply BE
here, now. Breathe in the damp, moist air and exhale out the stale, stagnant energy; notice the gentle breeze through the barren trees; and feel the blue expanse of sky overhead as well as the hard pavement under my shoes as my feet walk contained within a pair of black and white checkered Vans.
I was thinking about this business launch party we're throwing tomorrow and
how I have invited many of my neighbors, including a few who call these streets
of San Diego home. I know that I will have to delicately tread the distance between the mental health of one of them and the fear of my property manager. I know that I ruffle feathers, a lot. This, however, is rarely my actual intention. You see, my very own flesh and blood - my mother's brother - is homeless. He has called the streets of Los Angeles home for over twenty years. So, when I stop and chat with Gethro, who enjoys sketching naked humans in his silver-lock journal, I address him just as I would my uncle. For, he IS my uncle. Hence, I hug him, I share oranges with him, I ask him how he slept. I treat him no differently then I would another. It's true, I don't usually invite him in - because I don't know what the answers are, but I can at least try and remember to be human in my asking the questions.
(Like, "Is it okay for my uncle to live in the cold shadows between a wire fence and a white curb?")
So, the recognition of my "uncles" here on these city streets brought me to tears today. If I had a magic wand, I would wave it in my hand and turn my tears into vessels of shelter. But I am only and ever this - simply human, walking these city streets and dreaming of alternative possibilities.
