Monday, April 15, 2013

becoming elusive

I have been contemplating this for a while, eventually, I just had to do it. Not that I endorse any form of violence, but I do cede that there is a time and a place where nothing but violent action can remedy an abusive situation of corresponding prolonged violence. But what I respect most of all, regarding this picture, is the fact that for nearly thirty years Geronimo and his band of followers eluded the American military and government. And to my mind, understanding their plight, they were “patriots” of the first order. And I do admit, there are tactics of becoming elusive I believe I apply to my own life and situation, which these few knew and practiced in their thirty year struggle a bit more than a century ago.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Thursday April 11, 2013 – Deep In the Heart of Texas

I am where I am supposed to be. I think, I believe … uh … maybe, I know … whatever.


There is a lot of philosophic and religious argument concerning “believing” as opposed to “knowing”. It appears as two camps each contending for its own concept of what constitutes thought forms which lead to understanding and experiencing the depths of reality. “Reality” being another issue of contention. What is it? And even “Is it?” How do we know or do we simply “believe”? Is all a matter of our existential experience or is a metaphysical explanation called for to fill in the gaps where our experience, and the experience of many others, simply is unable to fathom, let alone touch, feel, taste hear see and even intuit? So many questions and so relatively few answers, or at least, answers that can hold their own contending for the prize and acknowledgement of being “absolute”.

So here I am in Texas … Austin… the states capital city. A thoroughly modern (or postmodern, I’m not sure what the difference is), high tech, Yuppy infested haven for business and conservative values. So much that seems antithetical to the traditional “John Wayne” image portrayed in cinema, except for possibly a “redneck” attitude and a gamblers gun shooters spirit that won’t hesitate to call a bluff or step up too or even start a fight.

And I “believe” this is where “I” am supposed to be? That was stated more than just a little sarcastically (Notice the question mark). Yes … I “believe so”.

Some would argue that belief or believing in something is basically worthless. The only thing that can be relied on is actual experience, from which knowledge and eventually with enough experience, understanding is realized and from these a world view is established. There is some truth to this. This can establish an understanding upon which mental categories are erected and a conception, built on perceptions, of reality is constructed. Personal experience and ultimately “my” personal experience becomes the foundation for “all”, everything … Yours is fine for you, but I have my own and for me to consider yours as valid (if it does not jive with mine) would take me into the realm of “belief”, and that leaves room for doubt, because your experience is subjective to you and not an objective experience of my own. And my objective experiences, too me at least, can be relied upon … or can they?

Leading psychological research has proved beyond any reasonable doubt that our perceptions of reality, through our sense, cannot be totally relied upon. The fact is there is a lot more there than we as human beings can realize. It is obvious in the fact that other creatures we are all well accustomed to can perceive things well out of range of human ability. Dogs for example have the ability to detect odors about 600 times better than humans. Bees have the ability to recognize colors far beyond the spectrum men can see. Whales and dolphins communicate over vast distances under water through their own innate sonar. Peering deeper and farther into the universe through the use of advanced and ever more powerful telescopes, we see the universe expanding and greater wonders becoming a part of our once closed reality. All these becoming a part of our collective consciousness, and all a matter of “knowledgeable” fact. These things we “know”.

But wait a minute. All this “knowledge”, all that we can now claim to “know”, first, in the mind of someone, or maybe, a few or many someone’s, was conceived as a possibility. First was “believed”, and then set forth as a postulate, and then experimented with. And in some cases re-evaluated and retried until eventually proven or disproven. But knowledge itself seldom “just happened”. I’m not contending that it can’t, I know for a fact that sometimes … it does. But that is not the norm. I have learned that I can trust what others might consider intuitive perceptions. But they don’t always “just happen”. They are not anything that actively works against my ability to reason. And I become increasingly convinced these actually correspond with and supplement conscious reasoning. But they are not to be neglected, neither are they allowed unbridled reign, to have their own way, but are considered, and then with reasonable consideration and apprehension, experimented with, and let the results prove themselves. But this is belief first, leading to the acquisition and experience of some certain knowledge, and this “knowledge” something hither too incomprehensible. A gift from the universe as I allow myself the liberty to believe something is possible. Not conceived of from books or other sources, but intelligence transcendent, yet innate to me as I am a human being.

So … I believe this is where I ought to be. Doing what I ought to be doing. And as I live and experience life, in me, all this is confirmed. Yes … it is my subjective reality that I objectively live. I do not recommend it for everyone, except to open yourselves to the possibility of experiencing more of reality than it may be thought conventionally acceptable.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Seven times seventy

A personal problem I have always faced is not quitting. I could not and still can’t, figure out when it’s time to quit. This has morphed into another similar problem, “When is it time to give up on somebody?” Jesus, was asked by his disciples how often should they forgive someone, seven times? He answered them “Seven times seventy”, implying that there is no limit to how often forgiveness should be extended. And this I can only wonder at, when is it time to “give up” on another human being?


Sunday, April 7, 2013

Friday March 29, 2013 – Use the RestRoom at your own risk

You’d have thought that I was wanted for murder. One, two, three … No … four cop cars, descending and surrounding us as we exited a public restroom at a skateboard park about a mile and a half from where we camp. This is along our usual route into town, but we had just recently become aware of the availability of the public toilets.


Mary went in and was taking care of business and I was stand outside the door, guarding and making sure she had the necessary privacy. I watched several dozen kids and young adults as they practiced their skateboarding technique and at the far end of the complex BMX bikers diving into a huge concrete bowl constructed for their enjoyment. I really must say that I am impressed with what the city has done and the skills I observe being accomplished by these young people.

As I waited, and I believe most men will understand the waiting for a woman in the restroom, a young man, I would guess in his early twenties, rode over from the bike area and rode his bike back and forth through the curved channels usually used by the skateboarders. He came to the end and made an abrupt turn to circle back and sped by me within a foot or so. He was glaring … bearded and resembled a young version of Chuck Norris. He circled around and repeated his course, pulling by me even closer. It appeared he was trying to intimidate me. I didn’t move, I didn’t say a thing … I refused to react. He peddled his way back to the bike section and his buddies who were waiting.

Mary came out of the restroom and I went in to do my thing. I exited the restroom and I noticed Mary looking somewhat perplexed and staring towards the parking lot. I looked and a police car was there and two officers walking towards the restroom. I didn’t think anything of it so we started on our way continuing into town. We had gone about twenty-five yards and I glanced back. One of the officers was motioning with his hand for me to return. I turned around and walked back toward him. “Take your hands out of your pockets”, he said as we approached each other, and I complied holding my hands out revealing that they had nothing in them.

“We received an anonymous phone call saying there was someone suspicious in the restroom matching your description”, he said, “It may have been a crank call, but we have to check it out, and you did just come out of the restroom”. He proceeded to ask for my I.D. and I gave it to him. He was asking numerous questions concerning my situation. “Is that the only hat that you have?” I wear a baseball cap that says “House the Homeless”, it is well worn and sweaty. I received it on New Year’s Day at a function for the homeless sponsored by a lawyer who renders aid to the homeless. It is the name of an organization he started to secure housing opportunities for the homeless. “Yes, it’s the only hat I have”. The officer continued questioning. The second officer looked at my I.D. and then handed it to a third officer who took it to his car to run a check. It was then that I noticed that we were surrounded by three squad cars.

The first officer and I continued in polite conversation. There were some questions I would not answer regarding our living situation. “Are you homeless?” … “Yes”, I replied. I then told him about coming to Austin and having my I.D. run previously. The first time falling asleep on the hill above the ARCH and the conversation I had with that officer. Then about another time in October, Mary and I were in a park near downtown and it appeared Mary had fallen asleep while I was reading. “You mean you can’t do that?” he asked. “Yep … not since the crackdown downtown.” He was shocked. He was unaware of the extent of what was happening downtown. I told him how we had migrated out of downtown to stay out of trouble.

The third officer returned with my I.D. and handed it to the first, “He’s clean”, he said. My I.D. was then returned to me and I informed the officer of the young man’s actions with the bike and I suspected it was he who made the call. “You had no words with him?” … “No, none at all.”

The officer thanked me for my cooperation and we continued on our way. It was then that I noticed the fourth cop car.

Use the restrooms here at your own risk, and teach your children well … they do in Texas.



Thursday January 31 - Moving Camp

We moved camp last night. For the prior couple of weeks there had been tell-tale signs of increasing activity by park personnel near where we set up camp. There were bright yellow ribbons hung on branches indicating a pattern of some future development, or at least clearing of the brush and dead downed trees. Last week as we were leaving camp we saw signs along the sidewalk and streets advising of a showcasing of upcoming restoration and redevelopment along the creek near us. We checked out the associated web site and knew what was up. It was becoming clear that sometime soon camp would have to be moved, even though actual construction would not occur until this summer. There would no doubt be engineers and park personnel traipsing through in preparation of what was to come.


As we return to our camp location yesterday evening, I could see that the wind had blown some of the cover off our concealed belongings. This was not a major concern as nothing had been tampered with. Then Mary brought something to my attention that was of concern. A large log that partially blocked a pathway into the stand of bamboo and underbrush had been moved. Not just a few inches but it had been dragged at least 15 feet back into the brush. This log had been situated directly next to our concealed things.

Well, it was clear to me we could not, or at least should not set up camp here anymore. Mary was very quiet and almost ready to chuck it all I.E. "We're screwed". Fortunately, toward the end of last week (or was it earlier this week, I forget) we had taken a walk a bit more than a mile north exploring and searching out potential sites to relocate our camp, and did find a few prospects. So after commiserating a while, we waited for it to get a bit darker. I then got the tent and sleeping bags and we made our way just under a mile up the road and set ourselves up for the night. At 3:30 A.M. this morning I was up and returned to our original camp and retrieved the remainder of our things (a travel bag with assorted clothes and coats, food bag and bag with cooking gear.

Our current location does afford sufficient live trees and large ferns to conceal our belongings during the day when we are away, but tent space is minimal. Yet, I don't know that a "perfect" location exists, but there are more options, all with their pluses and minuses.

Mary has been going to the clinic regularly and has been advised to apply for her disability. Earlier this week she saw a lawyer, associated with the ARCH who councils the homeless for free, in order to get the ball rolling. We need to get by the Social Security office ASAP and get her work history to give to the lawyer. Next week is filled with clinic and hospital tests (heart and Mammogram). Two weeks ago it was to the hospital for respiratory tests. Smoking has done its damage. Mary has become eligible for "Case Management" at the ARCH. This will provide the needed guidance and incentive to get things done in order.

I doing well, physically and spiritually. I can walk long distances without effort. After a while Mary begins to struggle, although I think she has been doing better lately. I'm not sure if it is the newly prescribed inhaler or getting into better physical shape. I know I am in better shape than I have been for years. My weight is way down (all that walking) and I really should consider some more pants with a smaller waist. I was eligible ten weeks ago for "Case Management", but after meeting with a "Case Manager" "we" the CM and I, decided case management would not be a good fit, considering my personal goals. So, I trust God (you supply your own definition) and be faithful to what is before me and look for and take advantage of opportunities as they appear and listen to and follow what I recognize as sound advice.



January 5 2013 - Blessing and Curse

Well we made it through the Christmas - New Year’s Holidays, it was a little bit of a blessing and a curse. Things started out well enough I suppose, but we were hit with some bitterly cold weather for several days and Mary came down with a cold, which she dutifully passed on to me. That was just before Christmas, but we got through the "bitter" cold end of it, and discovered being in a tent, in sleeping bags, cuddling together does have its therapeutic advantages. Just before Christmas, while standing in line at Caritas for lunch, a black man was giving all the "newbies" the rundown, on what to expect over Christmas. First, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we can expect people to be coming from everywhere, doling out food and clothes, blankets and whatever they can imagine the homeless might need. And, "and I quote" "If you see a bunch of niggers gathered around some guy shaking hands, be sure to get in the crowd and shake the preachers hand" … You can expect he will be handing out money. Well, we did not experience anything quite like that, but all day long, Christmas Eve, people were showing up with food and whatever. The plain fact is, we couldn't keep up with it.


On Christmas Day we sat across the street from the ARCH, all we wanted to do was to rest and get a few hours’ sleep. Yes, car loads of food and just about anything else were being trucked in, but we didn't care. We were already full from the day before. But while we were sitting, just minding our own business, a black man, who we had seen around the Arch for a while, came up to us and said he wanted to give us a gift. He held out his hand and put $10 in mine. He said it was because he had watched us and respected the way we conducted ourselves, never fighting (I corrected him with "in public") and being a "civil" example. He told me to get something special to eat with the "lady". Well, what do you say? Thank You. About an hour later we were sitting, minding our own business and a young man comes up to us and taps us on the shoulder, "Would you like to go out to eat … at Luby's". Luby's is one of the nicer restaurant/cafeterias, and the food is the best. Mary and I looked at each other and said "Sure", we then followed the young man to his car, where his mother was waiting and we all introduced ourselves. While driving to Luby's, about 6 miles away, the young man called his fiancĂ© and arranged for her to meet us there. There Mary and I feasted. I mean we took advantage of it. As we finished and left, Mary and I shared how we came to be "homeless" and returning to the center of town, they gave us each a small financial gift and bag of assorted necessities. We departed their company and returned to where we had originally been seated.

Over the New Year’s holiday a local lawyer, who works with the homeless, had a party for the homeless at one of the larger churches and distributed thermal underwear, scarves, gloves, hats and other cold weather necessities, and also had a top notch band entertain the lot during the festivities.

The only real inconvenience was having to run back and forth to the pharmacy, which didn't have the required prescription for Mary, but we managed.

So, the weather appears to be beginning to warm up, a bit. If it doesn't get any worse than it was recently, we will do fine, neither one of us wants to go to the shelters, unless it is absolutely called for.



The Wolf Pack

We come back from the library, and sit across the street, on the grass next to the parking lot. You see, we don’t feel that comfortable mixing in the usual bullshit that occurs amidst the crowd on the sidewalk next to the ARCH. We are waiting for the “preacher” lady to show up who is there every Monday and Tuesday evening along with one of several groups of volunteers, to feed the homeless. Every so often we notice a police squad car passing by, slowly, checking things out. Eventually more from the crowd across the street at the ARCH come and sit down beside us. Nothing really happening, just sitting, waiting for dinner. A squad car pulls by, and then turns into the parking lot. We all take it as a message to get up, stand up, and move. We don’t want to be accused of anything inordinate. As we get up we look behind us. There, not 20 feet away, three bicycle cops, standing … watching us. No one saw them show up, but they are there. The squad car pulls up next to them. Mary and I take a walk up the hill, just to get a little distance away. We stand under a tree and observe, just out of the way enough and hidden by some SUVs and cars. The “preacher” shows up and sets up her tables. We make our way back across the street, being careful to cross at the corner; we don’t want to be sited for J-walking. We get in line with about 150 others, maybe more. The preacher is playing her worship music on a portable amplifier, then makes an announcement that we are waiting for the dessert to show up. Volunteers are unloading food and preparing to serve the nights meal. Across the street the police are waiting, watching, eyeing the crowd. They seem to be looking for something. Occasionally a few of them confer and one heads on to confront someone. … Nothing … this time … they run a man’s ID … nothing. A wolf pack … I feel so secure … Welcome to America … Land of the “Free”.




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Synchronicity - an example

"Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance, yet are experienced as occurring together in a meaningful manner. The concept of synchronicity was first described in this terminology by Carl Gustav Jung, a Swiss psychologist, in the 1920s.[


"The concept does not question, or compete with, the notion of causality. Instead, it maintains that just as events may be grouped by cause, they may also be grouped by meaning. A grouping of events by meaning need not have an explanation in terms of cause and effect." Wikipedia, - the free encyclopedia

We take two routes back to where we camp. Last Saturday afternoon we took the back route, which is through a rather large park and is used for walking dogs, jogging, walking, football and virtually any other field activity. We were early so we sat on a bench for a few hours and simply relaxed and I listened to a few mp3 lectures.

In the field across the path a number of dog owners were playing with their dogs and one in particular caught my attention, "That one looks like the dog I used to have". I was referring to a rather large golden colored dog, possibly a Golden Retriever or maybe even a smaller Leonberger. "It's tail is identical to the ones our dogs have". This dog reminded me of one of the Leonbergers we had, and I spent considerable time walking and playing with in the back yard. It brought back some good memories, I loved those dogs, and especially Bogart, the bigger male. Bogart was not as bright as the smaller female, Leyna, but he was lovable, and needed the extra attention. You see, as a pup, he had been mistreated and kept in a cage that was way too small for such a large dog, and when we got him we knew there must have been some abuse. But, he fit into the family, and was an excellent watch dog, and very protective of us, and the smaller female.

Yesterday my daughter posted an update on her Facebook page, it read "Animal Lovers; My mom's beloved leonberger, Bogart, died this morning at the house. I'm at a lost. What do we do with a 150lbs dog? Who do I call?"

Was this a synchronistic event or just some sort of coincidence? … Coincidence? … No I do not believe so … There are too many such too simply be a thing of chance. And as Jung and others have proved, happen more often than we realize, but we have been taught to write them of, to ignore them. We have been taught wrong … and there is a great deal more we can get out of life, that "God" or the "universe" would have us experience, IF we are willing to consider that there is more, and we don't have it all together, like we were taught.



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Monday November 26 – two Ghosts and the Boogeyman - Part Three

Scrooge faced a third ghost: “Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.


“THE Phantom slowly, gravely, silently, approached. … It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible ... But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.

“He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.”

Friday night, late, or early Saturday morning, 2 or 3 A.M. probably, we had a visitor. Apparently Mary heard something first, but she thought it was me, so she stayed huddled in her sleeping bag. I heard someone come along side me, and I believe they said “Excuse me”.

My first thoughts were “Damn … It’s the cops.” Then I thought, “Wait a minute, something is wrong here. The cops would be shining their flashlights at us to keep us blind.” And there were NO lights. So I peeked out from under my sleeping bag, and what’s this I see. The ass end of someone crawling up the hill with their pants down, I mean bear assed. I was a bit in shock, but I continued to watch and whoever this was found them a place about 15-20 yards up the hill from us. I wasn’t about to challenge this visitor. He was minding his own business and keeping a safe, respectful distance, so “You stay there and we’ll stay here”.

A bit later I started moving around a bit and this must have awaken him. I could tell where he was by his silhouette, other than that, he was pitch black. He apparently stood up, I thought he was going to leave, but as I watched, he appeared to be “heaving” – throwing up what may have been consumed earlier in the evening. His head hung down and I could tell he had a large hoody on and he reminded me of this third ghost, or the “grim reaper”. Then I thought “It’s the boogeyman”.

“Boogeyman is an amorphous imaginary being used by adults to frighten children into compliant behavior. The monster has no specific appearance, and conceptions about it can vary drastically from household to household within the same community; in many cases, he has no set appearance in the mind of an adult or child, but is simply a non-specific embodiment of terror. Parents may tell their children that if they misbehave, the bogeyman will get them. Bogeymen may target a specific mischief — for instance, a bogeyman that punishes children who suck their thumbs — or general misbehavior, depending on what purpose needs serving. In some cases, the bogeyman is a nickname for the devil.” Wikipedia Online Encyclopedia

He slid down the tree he was against and laid there for the rest of the night. I was watching him for the better part of the night from then on until I eventually fell asleep. I woke about 5:30, we got ourselves together and went on our way. Our visitor was dead to the world and oblivious to anything from his descent down the tree on.

I believe we have no ghosts to be afraid of, I believe the “boogeyman” is real, but more scared of us than we are of him, and if we pay him no mind, he will not come back. The ghosts are illusions, the product of one man’s genius. They are metaphors of life. We can accept them, and live in them, or we can dispel them. It’s our choice. It’s our choice to remain in ignorance and suffer want, or defines our own reality around us, homeless or housed comfortably in the midst of family and friends.





Monday November 26 – two Ghosts and the Boogeyman - Part Two

Charles Dickens, in his “A Christmas Carol”, wrote of three “ghosts”, the ghost of Christmas Past, the ghost of Christmas present and the ghost of Christmas yet to come. The second, the ghost of Christmas present was described thus: “It was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.”


Towards the end of this ghost’s visit with Scrooge, Scrooge noticed something peculiar and: "Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here."

“From the folding’s of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!" exclaimed the Ghost.

“They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shriveled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.”

Prior to Thanksgiving I had begun to wonder whether I, or should I say we would have found ourselves under this spirits robe. I don’t believe that to be the case now.

You see, over this week of “Thanksgiving” I have witnessed, and been the beneficiary of a lot of peoples generosity. Starting with the Resource Fair for the Homeless, and Thanksgiving dinners five out of seven nights, including a virtual stampede of volunteers stepping over themselves (and occasionally us) to see that we had anything and all we wanted. I mean I have never seen so much volunteer service put forth by a community. Many, if not most, came from some religious setting, many, just out of the kindness of their hearts. On Thanksgiving Day itself, in the parking lot across from the ARCH, Individuals as well as Church groups were constantly parading in with food, and some with blankets and other assorted clothes. It has been said, and more than once, “it is impossible not to eat in Austin”, and from what I’ve been experiencing, that holds a lot of truth.

It is true, on a natural way of thinking, there could have been a lot more in the way of “coordination”, spreading the blessing over a longer time frame. But that is not the point. The point is people, for whatever reason “giving of themselves”. And there is no way any of us receiving can be thankful enough. Yet there are those who can only find their place under that robe. You see it in the faces all the day long. You hear it in the bitching and griping, ignorance and want.

"Spirit! are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more.

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased…”

I am finding, I believe WE are finding, we do not have to suffer the fate of ignorance and want. We are being provided for. Some may simply attribute this to “God’s” grace upon us. Others, our following the innate connection we have with the universe, and subsequently seeing things fall into place. I don’t believe it matters which you believe. It’s all the same. Only different methods and perspectives, but, it’s all the same. Yet I do wonder, as some have expressed, “it’s great to have this kind of outpouring at this holiday season, but what about the rest of the year?” I have no answer. I can only attest to what I have been seeing and personally experiencing, and something is working, and I’m not to overly concerned about the rest of the year. It will take care of itself when it gets here.

Continued



Saturday, April 6, 2013

Monday November 26 – two Ghosts and the Boogeyman

Monday November 26 – two Ghosts and the Boogeyman


From early October for the next six weeks we had been “camping” most nights in a small park at the south end of the University of Texas. On “game nights” we would find alternatives so the “kids” could throw their party and we wouldn’t be in the way. This was a pretty well hidden location as we eventually pulled back in under the cover of some trees and bushes which hung over us as a canopy. But, eventually we were paid a visit by the UT campus police, three of them at 2:30 in the morning. And informed we could not continue to stay there. We had our I.D’s run again and cooperated as we were instructed and the campus police were polite and cordial enough as they recognized we were no threat.

So we began our search for another spot we might regularly return too. It took a couple of days, and during this time we would make do wherever we happened to be. We are now located at a spot, to remain undisclosed for the time being, that is relatively well hidden and out of sight of most, as long as we do not stay past sunrise each morning. We will continue to search for an even better site, but walking distances and those” fucking Austin hills” can prove inhibiting.

Shortly after we were evicted from our first base we received sleeping bags, which greatly improved our comfort through the nights that are beginning to turn cold. We made it huddled under a few blankets, but there is a hell of a difference.

Sleeping bags in order, I am now thinking about things to carry us through the winter. I have been told “snow” is generally not a problem here, but we might expect rain and the coldest months are the end of January through February. Considering personal past experience “camping”, I have little doubt a couple of “Yankees” can make it through a “confederate” winter with a little planning and common sense. But, there are shelter options available should we find the need. Beginning this week we will be looking into “case management” services to help us get our birth certificates and Texas I.D’s together. We will look into new glasses for Mary come mid –December.

continued



Sunday November 18 - More fair Stuff

Sunday November 18 - More fair Stuff


Well there are a lot more homeless around here than we originally figured. And as well, a lot more people from the "outside" contributing their time, energy and resources to meet the need. I can only guess at about 1500-2000 homeless and about half that number volunteers. And at points it was a real circus. You couldn't tell what was going on, but once you found something you could recognize things went smoother. But getting through the plethora of venders offering services was enough to drive one crazy, if not to the point of discouragement.

I did talk to a woman who works at the ARCH as a "case manager" and confirmed that case management could help both Mary and I get some things needed together, without imposing their own ideas on us or attempting to change things we are already committed too. So, eventually we will look deeper into the "CM" services.

There were also legal and medical providers vending their services, but we did not look into them at this time, but it's nice to know they are there and if needed CM can make the right connections. Mary currently makes use of the ARCH clinic and this gets her required meds. Now I guess we'll have to look into vision care as her glasses were lost with her purse yesterday. But the means are there.

A group known as "Mobil Loaves and Fishes" fed this entire bunch yesterday. They operate the food trucks that frequent the area distributing meals to the poor and homeless. It was really rather impressive. It would probably remind many of a mobile army field kitchen and well run. They obviously have been doing this for a while and have the experience to make it work.

The afternoon was spent laying around on the grounds of the Austin State Hospital. This is, or at least was, a "mental hospital", although there was virtually no evidence of any current activity. I must admit having the thought that they were "measuring us for size." There certainly was enough room to accommodate the lot of us. The thing is, none of the real "truly" crazies that frequent the ARCH never showed up. I guess they were scared of the location, possibly having been here before.

Looking at the mass of broken humanity I could not help but think of Moses, leading the children of Israel out of Egypt. That must have been one hell of a job. And though so many have come together to provide basic services and needs, and even though some parrot the religious rhetoric espoused by well-meaning providers, there was no value system which met the real spiritual needs of these who at the near close of the fair wandered off in their separate directions, each finding their own ways in a setting increasingly hostile to them. It reminded me of the final scene of my favorite motion picture, "Lawrence of Arabia".

Lawrence, who at the end of World War One tried to help organize the Arabs into an independent entity, had just been promoted Colonel in the British Army. He was being chauffeured to a port and return to England. Along the way he passed Arab Bedouins he had led and fought alongside with. They, returning to what he knew was, for the time, was to be a life of subjection to Imperial powers, greater than what they were capable of contending with. I believed he realized "he was British", he could not help them, they had to learn and come to a place where they could help themselves. A place of adapting to the world , as it is, and yet retaining the values and traditions that make ones culture unique and valuable.

Despite all the negativity I believe there is a sort of "tribal" value system that is being experienced amidst the homeless, similar to the "hippy" experience of the sixties. True, there is No unifying philosophy or code of ethics, except the natural recognition of the individual conscience for that which is innately and universally accepted good and of value. It is not perfect, but potential. And There are rebels, unwilling, or unable, to accept any value system.



Saturday November 17 - The Paradox, Living In Austin

Saturday November 17 - The Paradox, Living In Austin


Today was a mixed blessing and loss. It started out at a bus stop. In our hurry to get on the bus, half awake, and not quite in our right mind, we boarded and went about a mile. I noticed Mary holding her day pass and told her to put it away safe. A few moments later she looked at me, in shock, "I left my purse back at the bus stop."

"Well", I said, "We'll have to go back and get it." So we got off before our destination and walked back to the first bus stop. Well … it was gone. I checked the trash cans on each corner, but no luck. Essentially this contained her "life" … meds, I.D., birth certificate … whatever might be important and needed … glasses … damn.

Well, we immediately figured there are ways to replace all of these … it is just a pain in the ass to have to structure your life around all of this "stuff". So, we bite the bullet and plan accordingly. And thus we caught the next bus and proceeded to our original destination.

We were on the way to a "Homeless Resource Fair". We had preregistered at the ARCH a week before and they provided day bus passes for us. This "fair" is sponsored by an organization called ECHO and their purpose is to assist the homeless, similarly to that of the ARCH. "Front Steps" is the organization who runs the ARCH and works closely with ECHO.

ECHO coordinates the efforts of numerous social and medical agencies and puts on this Homeless Resource Fair once a year. And there are more agencies than I can put my finger on who are ready, willing and able to lend their support, time and energies into this event. And this is where the "paradox" manifests. At the fair sleeping bags and back packs are given to the homeless. Clothes, shoes, gloves, stocking caps, medical care, dental care, vision care, toiletries, showers, haircuts, and just about anything else you can imagine one living on the streets might need. About 900 sleeping bags are given to any who need them, and these provided by the Downtown Austin Community Court … the same court you must appear before if you are ticketed or arrested for sleeping in a public area. Yet, we have sleeping bags, and back packs. Of course, I can't take my sleeping bag into the library … "It's against our rules".

This is a battle of "wills" and spiritual values I can see here in the Austin community. There are those who would like a hard line against the homeless, and there are many. They find the homeless presence and embarrassment. This week there is a Formula One race taking place in Austin and the police have orders to clear the streets of the homeless. There is an expected 200,000 international visitors coming and we don't want the homeless presence. They smell, they beg, they are dirty and they do not reflect our capitalistic corporatist values. They "do not" exist in "our world", at least, not if they can't be seen.

Then there are those who for whatever reason recognize that such a situation exists, which would leave a man, a woman, a child … without house or home or resources to what are considered normal expectations in life. These causes for this are innumerable. Yes, drugs and alcohol can play a part, so can psychological conditions, bad decision making … the list can go on and on... even matters of "no fault" must be considered. Yet there are persons of vision and faith who realize the value of a human being, imperfect as any may be. And these give of themselves to help, some by profession … others by volunteering. And the thing that motivates them may be just as innumerable and complex as the cause of the necessity. And, we can not discount the religious motivation. Yet, those who are, for the most part, are soft spoken about it.

And I am believing, even though the city fathers and civic organizations are pressuring the courts (and the police), not all, as part of these structures are as hard lined as the "John Wayne" types would like them to be. After all, the courts gave me a sleeping bag.

More about this tomorrow … But that sleeping bag sure made a hell of a difference last night …. Ask Mary.



Wednesday November 7 - Even My Enemies

Wednesday November 7 - Even My Enemies


I used to be a very staunch Evangelical. I would argue with most that I never quite "fully" made it into the "fundamentalist" camp, although I did associate with many of that persuasion. Still, in much of my language there is a remnant of this influence. I will contend now that although these were the affiliations I had, and still respect (for the most part), I never actually was a die-hard, down to the nitty-gritty Orthodox "Christian". Now, understand, I did learn a great deal from many teachers, some who would hardly ever be considered such, and I do not without qualification reject Orthodox theology whole heartedly. I do find it to be too literal minded and misses the point in too many of its supposed absolutes. I do believe there is the need for reassessing the whole of the "Christian" faith in light of historical accuracies and more contemporary scientific insights. To put it plain, Let's cut the "fairy tales" and focus on the truth.

Now I know what I am writing will offend a large number in the "Orthodox" community who I have had friendly, and better than friendly relationships with. I also know that my more "open minded" friends who are not Christian, or affiliated with any such religious or "spiritual" affiliation will also take offense at my more verbal position. Well, get over it. I am what I am and not too disposed to change or accommodate anyone's particular understanding of "God", "reality" or the universe … whatever.

I believe I truly have made friends across the spectrum of religious and political ideologies and appreciate you all, BUT, I am me, and I am (as might be expressed by my Evangelical brethren) following "God" as I hear him, and as I find him. This does not please many. You don't understand me. You may wish that I would get it together and get a job, and get over all this … whatever it is that I am into. Well … this is the way it is … And this is me … Take me, or leave me.

Yes I believe I am following God, as "He" communicates to and through me. To tell the truth, I'm not sure I like the word "God". It as antiquated and over used and abused by virtually any and every "religious" entity wanting to garner support for their "pet" "religious" cause. And I cannot leave out the secularist who really haven't a clue as to the difference between true "spirituality" and defunct religion … In your own way … It's all a load of crap. But that does not affect or disqualify that which truly is an innate human quality, in relation to higher virtues and character, some things not so easily defined in our lexicon of human traits.

I find even amongst those I would scarcely ever reach out to as friend, a drawing near that quite frankly in the natural I would have a great deal of problem explaining. Not by trying to influence or going out of my way to be friendly (As a matter of fact I am quite cautious and reserved in who I extend friendship too) but by being myself, (reserved as that may be) I draw those who I would otherwise reject. And they extend their friendship to me. We find an acceptance, for who we are, as we are what it is that we are. This may sound "cryptic", but it is perfectly natural. Being myself, not knowing the effect I have on others, They are drawn. Some may say it is "God", some that which is the natural working of our connectedness and the nature of the universe. I say, It doesn't matter … It's all one and the same.

Over the past few days I have noticed a picture several friends have posted with a quote by Thomas Jefferson relating that differences in religion, politics or "whatever" do not qualify as a reason to drop a friend. Proverbs 16:7 says "When a man's ways are pleasing to the LORD, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him."

I have found such … such who would normally be considered an "enemy". But He respects me, He thinks I'm "cool" and has given me a nick name. And all I have been doing since I have been here is rejecting his offers to "Make some money", illegally or at the least, questionable. But, we can be friends. I think it only takes a little understanding … on my part … he is only trying to survive.





Wednesday October 31 - Got Her

Wednesday October 31 - Got Her


They finally got her.

"Food Truck!!!" somebody yelled, but there was little motion in any direction by the crowd who congregates in front of the ARCH. But we thought it prudent to get up from our seated position on the patio and take a look around. You never know just where the food wagon might decide to park itself and if you are not attentive a mass of flesh can engulf it and being at the end of the line find you literally "holding the bag" … empty. But as it happened and we were looking for the food truck, it drove by and up Neches and across 8th street and parked on the side of the road. We immediately began our quick paced walk up the hill and into a relatively secure and front position in line.

After a few minutes, and a minimal amount of butting in line, we made it to the front and received our meal for the evening, two bologna and cheese sandwiches, a small bag of cheeze-its and cookies, a banana, and an eight ounce carton of milk. Not too bad actually, and there was enough to fill us. Oh, and a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, take your pick. We made it back down the hill to our seats on the patio, ground floor special, and had our picnic dinner. Across the street, between the side walk and the street, sat about a half dozen regulars, eating and doing their usual bull shitting. After a few moments two bicycle police arrived. They began questioning a woman sitting on the street curb, and others around her began to disperse. At first I couldn't recognize her. She appeared better looking than I had seen her before, hair made up well, clean clothes and colored reflecting sunglasses. I thought I recognized her, but I could not be sure. Then she turned to reveal her profile, I knew who it was, the woman with the prosthetic leg who had been harassed at least three times before.

The police examined her I.D. and went to one of the bikes and returned with the ties used as hand cuffs. They were arresting her. This was not making any sense. She had only been sitting on the street curb above a rain grate. The cops looked uncomfortable as they tied her hands behind her back and the proceeded to do a superficial search for weapons and such. One cop kept glancing around, monitoring the onlookers. At some point the police paddy wagon arrived on the corner of Neches and 7th streets. The officers escorted her to the paddy wagon and a cruiser pulled up near the parked bikes and observed.

The young woman gave no resistance. She cooperated with what I would describe as grace and dignity. I do not know her name. I have seen her around the ARCH since I first arrived here. She is mulatto and most she associates with are black. I do not believe she is involved in any drug activity, other than occasionally smoking some marijuana, but for some reason the police have repeatedly made her the target of their harassment. Now they got her, arrested … for sitting on a curb, eating her dinner.

In the late sixties or early seventies I would have been raising hell about this. But as I looked around there was no consolidated consensus among those standing around. Gandhi once said to be effective as a leader "find a parade and then get in front of it". There was no parade to lead here, only a few mumbling souls, but not any direction or purpose. Only a chance to get thrown in jail and no one is up to that, at least … not now …. Not yet.

Sunday October 28 - Classes and Religion

Sunday October 28 - Classes and Religion


There are two ideas that are going through my mind, or should I say "My mind keeps returning too". First, the idea of "class struggles", by this I do not mean economic classes, or social as in the concept of nobility and peasantry or even political, which may be tied to either. But rather the classes as may be distinguished by attitude and developed mature character. The second is the notion that religion's purpose was first as the teacher or framework to explain the realities we experience, based on the known sciences. These sciences being astrology and natural knowledge of the world we inhabit. Religion being post shamanic and only narrowly retaining some minute evidence of this predecessor, progressively losing most or all shamanic vision as doctrine and creed became more authoritative and established. Eventually religion ceased to convey the knowledge garnered through the insights into the "real" world and became a tool of control, relying on misinterpreted and manipulated myths, at the whim and will of those sufficiently in power and seeking ways and means to maintain that position and power.

The "homeless" give little thought to anything that does not profit for survival. By the "homeless" I, for the greater degree, do not include those who indiscriminately abuse social services intended for the less fortunate, without homes or shelter, although this is a very grey area and I cannot be absolute in my own judgment. There are the "homeless" who violate virtually any and every code of normal social conduct. Generally I would find these to be younger whites and blacks with attitudes, wishing to strike back at institutions and families that do not measure up in their eyes. These more often than not indulge in the use of drugs and alcohol and be damned what tomorrow brings. Among the black community ages run higher, into old age. I leave it to others to parse out the reasons for this as I am not an expert on racial issues or the experience of blacks as individuals or as a race. I only observe what is the obvious. Yet, as regards the homeless as such, drugs and rebellious behavior is not the primary concern or desire, only getting enough to eat, a place to sleep and make it to the next day and hopefully a little progress out of what seems dire conditions.

In the overall homeless community I find classes of people. I know the idea of "classes" offends many, from different political ideologies, but for sake of my explanation and argument I will refer to "classes". On average, most would qualify as normal, decent, average "Joes". They do not over demand or expect such as cannot be logically expected. They do not raise a lot of "guff" when things do not work as expected, but rather work their way through difficult situations, doing what they "gotta do" to make it to the other side. Then there are those who do whatever is necessary, pushing their way to the front and past showing no respect for any but themselves. These begin the descent from common courtesy and into the abyss of anti-social behavior. Then there are the manipulators, the opportunists. These feign friendship and desire to barter favors, and for a while seemingly altruistic actions begin to draw the unsuspecting in, only to be caught in another web of deceit and possibly becoming a snare too difficult to escape. Then we have the preachers. These come in two flavors, the ones who are truly "brainwashed" and have to do everything in their power to convert you and then those who find religious verbiage and dogma a convenient harbor and escape from their own responsibility for the consequences of their own reckless and unthinking actions in their own lives. This includes virtually all loud mouth drunks and drug users preaching to any and all and nobody. Then there are those with legitimate mental and psychological deficiencies. All too often using their infirmity as a convenient excuse to ignore usual common courtesy. Beyond these those who find any excuse to justify rude, self-centered behaviors to the disrespect of any. And of course those who simply don't give a damn, no excuse is necessary. Unfortunately it is all of these who are the recipients of the services offered and all too often, the more offensive and obnoxious one may become, the more one is treated with "kid gloves", the more civil and courteous suffering impunity, the result of placating the unruly and hoping to keep them in line.

But there is a turn in attitude I am observing. Hither to I have observed and acted myself without asserting my rights or the rights of others as they are infringed upon. Others, of a more decent character, as well as myself, are speaking up and putting ourselves at risk as the less noble characters attempt to pull their "tricks", get in another's face, butt in line and such. Too be sure there is risk, a fight could ensue, but more often than not, the offending party will get the message, they are being watched, and not by security, but by us, the ones they have to sit with and eat with, and we aren't putting up with your crap anymore. Too be sure, one person cannot stand alone, but when two or three begin seeing the same thing and have the "balls" to speak up, maybe not at first, not immediately, but progressively, the offenders back down. They eventually get the message. And yes, there is the risk of things backfiring, or reprisals, wherever. Such is the nature of some characters.

But as I look at these classes of characters I can't help but wonder and ask, "What differences are there in these 'homeless' that is not the same in the overall gamut of society?" And I cannot see anything different overall. The only difference is that in the homeless community the guise of civilization is breaking down. In the overall "civilized" world the same character faults exist only hidden, disguised by the illusion of being civilized.

I once had lived with an idyllic concept of how humans were to relate to one another. I had egalitarian notions that all are equal, and one man's truth and value were as important as another's. And, to be sure, if democracy is our ultimate ideal then egalitarianism may be justified. But that is not the real world. The real world is full of multitudes of "me first and damn the rest". And this makes for no real civilization or dynamic human relations which lend support to human advancement. But I could not see this as long as the trappings of civilization were sufficiently in place. It is not a "housed" or "unhorsed" homeless problem. It is a human character problem. It is not a lack of religion problem; it is a need for a relevant religion problem, a religion that takes into account all the new and advancing concepts, theories and facts upon which the whole of our technological world is built upon.

I have no problem with "myth" as such. But myth needs to be relevant and understood as a "picture", a "framework", metaphor, and not as a literal testimony of reality. Our religious myth needs to teach us of our connection to ourselves, each other, our world and the universe.

Concepts of the past, based on the limited knowledge and understanding of the times have had their multi-millennial reign. We have moved into a new millennium, our "faith" in our "gods" has needs to keep pace and communicate in the language and knowledge of the present.

I believe should our "faiths" not evolve we face the disintegration of our world cultures. Possibly to be replaced by totalitarian states willing to establish themselves as the ultimate reality to which we all bow down.

My sister once told me something my father told her as she was embarking on a new life in the west. "There are the fuckers you don't know, and there are the fuckers you know." … the implication being trust no one even those you think you know. I wish I had such a conversation with my father but our relations were always strained through my teen years and virtually non-existent later in my teens and early twenties.

Experience, in what may be considered the most trusted of social settings has confirmed this cynical attitude. Religious settings ( churches and other institutions) have proved to be the most unreliable when it comes to trusting their integrity. Now I do not wish to condemn unequivocally all the out workings of these institutions, but merely point to the fact that they are managed and run by finite, imperfect human beings whose primary concern is ultimately their own well-being, and there is no such thing as an objective decision as such. Decisions will always reflect one’s personal well-being, or the well-being of those one is closest too.

This being the case, whether it is a religious or secular institution makes little difference. They are both managed and manned by imperfect human beings. The only advantage, or probably more to the fact, disadvantage the religious institution has on the secular is there is a presumed altruistic motive that supposedly surpasses the secular. But if the actions and attitudes of the religious adherents does not compliment the official doctrine and dogma, the religious suffers the reality and embarrassment as being caste as hypocrites. Unfortunately many, if not all religious groups rely on past reputation to carry them through potentially embarrassing situations. It all comes down to "image". If you can make the public believe anything they will be reluctant to admit that anything different is the reality. That is precisely the strength that current religious institutions enjoy, two thousand years of acceptance. And we are all, to some degree, educated and taught to think in terms of this religious framework.

But times are changing, progress continues and science advances ever so slowly, often in spite of some of our most noted scientists. And religion, of needs to survive, will adapt accordingly. The alternative is too dire to consider.

Amidst all this confusion of attitudes, classes and adaptation there are "wild cards". In the situation here in Austin the homeless have a support system in place. The politics surrounding the existence of this is too complicated to know at present what will be the future. Yet, for the present, such support exists and as has evolved there is individuals who lend themselves to the functioning of this system. These persons do not necessarily make up a class of their own, but rather manifest out of and in the midst of all classes. There are men who have made their home in relation to the support system and not out of religious necessity, but rather innate human concern, volunteer their time and energies to aid others, either as part of the system or independently. These are not perfect "saints" as may be thought of in religious terms, they are faulted as any, but find it in themselves to extend themselves beyond themselves. These have my respect, and though I know none personally their presence and effect to the functioning and benefit of others cannot go unobserved. It is in "their spirit" that I find hope for the future, nit necessarily of the system, but of the human species. These, regardless of the system can and will adapt and make things function for the rest.



Behold the Beast

Behold the Beast


We are living on the edges of civilization, contemplating the benefits and the sacrifices to be made to reap the same. To be sure, there are benefits, but not so obvious the sacrifices. The benefits often, though not always, appear tangible. The sacrifices, though often espoused as inalienable, are of a less material nature; concepts of freedom, spirit, the rights of "humankind". These too easily forgotten or misconstrued and redefined to accommodate materialistic ideas and ideals of what constitutes the betterment of the human condition; a higher standard of living, a shorter work week, a house, private property, a controlled environment separate and as possible divorced from the conditions of the outer, other world, an illusion of " Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". These widdled away and systematically dissolved for the benefit of security. And we, like frogs in a pot of water fail to realize the increasing heat, and too ignorant to jump out, are subsequently boiled. But we are told, "It's alright, because it tastes like chicken." And we harp upon the needs of the past, and the promise of "a chicken in every pot", not realizing that every "so called" security requires a requisite chiseling away of that which we once held as inalienable.

We argue the "Constitution" and the Bible and more recently the Koran and the Vita's and other ancient texts searching for answers, some absolute that will somehow, some way give us the answers and tell us what it is to be human. Blind and ignorant that the same life force that gave us these scripts is in us, and is us. We seek outside confirmation as to what and who we are. We have lost connection, insight, knowledge that we are what we are as the "I Am" is the "I Am". It is us, and life is not a matter of rules and democratically compromised solutions, but our innate human conscience.

Too be sure, this does not negate the need to act civil, but recognizes that uncivilized behavior results in civilization which consequently infringes upon the civil conscience of all. And systems replace human initiative; we become corporatized, reliant upon the collective, stunted individuals. But secure in the niche assigned to us. All the while chanting the slogans and economic rhetoric we cannot possibly fully comprehend, unable to recognize the ultimate end of the same. But we are told, “we are free" and the idea of some long forgotten ideal has become the catalyst that motivates us. And we move, cogs in the machine, attached to the matrix, an artificial "Borg" manifestation of the collective consciousness. What may be, and I believe is, the divine connectivity of all creation, is usurped by a mechanical artifice, absent and ignorant of notion and relation to its primal energy. The Demiurge is manifest and we have created the beast, and we are the beast, the creator and the created.



Friday October 19 - Cleaning up

Friday October 19 - Cleaning up


We are sitting on a parking place bumper across the street from the ARCH, waiting to see what, if any, food trucks or ministry may show up. We usually sit away from the activity around the Arch as we find much we would rather not be associated with, whether that be illegal drug activity or crazy, weird people, and there are enough of them for sure. It is getting late, later than usual for food to become available, and I am beginning to consider our options.

A police cruiser pulls up across the street in front of the ARCH, an officer gets out and points at an Hispanic man. He gets his I.D. and begins to run a check on it. The police "paddy wagon" pulls up just down the street from us, close, about 30 yards away. Another officer gets out and walks across the street to assist the first officer.

The Hispanic man is handed back his I.D. and another black man seems to be the focus of the officers attention. They have him stand in front of the police cruiser and the second officer returns to the paddy wagon, reaches into the side door and then returns to the cruiser with some paper work and ties used as hand cuffs. The officers then tie the black man's hands behind him. It appears that they are having trouble but eventually cuff him and put him in the back of the cruiser.

The first officer returns to three individuals, including the first Hispanic man, and converses with them. The Hispanic man appears to be arguing, but the officer seems to pay little attention to him. The officer returns to his squad car and is writing something on the hood of the car. He returns to the three and hands one of them what appears to be a ticket. He hands it to a woman with a prosthetic leg who had been the subject of some harassment for sleeping behind the ARCH about a week earlier.

The officer from the paddy wagon returns to the paddy wagon and waits. The first officer, after doing some paper work on the hood of his car, gets in and begins to pull away, followed by the paddy wagon. From the direction they head they are not going directly to the jail or the police station.

The woman handed the ticket returns to her usual seated position. The Hispanic man and a short Hispanic woman are in heated argument. The three eventually disperse and blend with the rest of the gazers on.

The police have been involve in a concerted "crack down" focused particularly on the homeless for just over a month. At an ARCH town hall meeting, Wednesday October 17, we were told that in this period the police had made over 500 arrests involving the homeless. The ARCH services between 400 and 500 clients a day. Of this number, a great many are not actually homeless but rather "users", taking advantage of whatever "free" services they can; essentially exploiting the system, finding the easiest way to "get over".

Most of the "homeless" that I have met are legitimately "homeless" for whatever reason; they are not "illegitimate users" of the system, nor are they illegitimate drug offenders that hang out, outside the doors of the ARCH. Too be sure, there has been, and to a great degree continues to be a significant "drug culture" that has found residence around the ARCH, but it is slowly diminishing. The main problem as I observe it, is the police missing the mark. Yes, they made a great many arrests for "minor" infractions, but they are missing the target if eliminating the drug problem is their goal.

While the arrest yesterday was being made what went undetected was the strategic retreats made by the more abusive. What goes undetected or possibly ignored is the open use of "pot" as innocents wait in lines. What is overlooked is the fact that there is a mentality that places guilty abusers over against not only law enforcement but the innocent homeless caught between a rock and a hard place. The guilty abusers do not care or give a damn about any but themselves. They exercise their lives without regard for any kind of human regard, whether it be butting to the front of lines or tossing "roaches" at the feet of another, thereby placing the innocent in jeopardy and under suspicion.

Most know that I would like to see the repeal of laws against the use of marijuana, but unfortunately that does not appear to be happening very fast. And as a result, police have to enforce laws that make criminals of what are otherwise average citizens. "Pot" use is the most blatant violation of the drug laws around the ARCH, but if these violations are the cause of harassing actions by law enforcement, I would rather the place be cleaned up and the innocent homeless be given the unobstructed availability of the resources they can use and need, but "cleaning it up" implies more than just "pot" and drugs. It means dealing with any and all who are not suffering the state of homelessness. The users, abusers and waster's of their own lives needs to be dealt with and not a blanket indiscriminant condemnation of the unfortunates living on the streets or in shelters.



just another incident of the "divine"

Just a short while ago, while standing in line to get lunch, a TV reporter approached Mary and me and asked if we knew what Proposition 15 was. I am only vaguely familiar with it, it has to do with affordable housing. But, she asked if we would do an interview with her on camera, which we agreed to. Such as "fate" is, I did not talk about Proposition 15, as much as what led us to Austin. The interview was about 10 minutes long. As soon as I know when it will be aired or posted online I will pass this info along. But what struck me is that this is just another incident of the "divine" working things together. Hey, don't let the idea of the "divine" scare you. It’s all perfectly natural.

http://www.kvue.com/news/local/Voters-to-decide-on-funding-Austins-affordable-housing-174410701.html





Saturday October 13 - A New Bar in Town

Saturday October 13 - A New Bar in Town


As an alternative to eating at the Salvation Army we occasionally sit across the street from the ARCH on concrete bumpers that mark the end of parking spaces, and wait to see who may show up with food. It generally is one of the local churches or a couple of food trucks operated by a local ministry, you know, the kind of sandwich trucks we used to refer to as the "roach coach". No such designation applies now a days.

Last Thursday we were waiting and a Jeep Cherokee pulls up across the street. A man puts down the window and yells at us and another man parked along the street "Y'all want any work?" I wasn't sure he was talking to us and we hesitated. He yelled again, Mary and I looked at each other and nodded to indicate checking it out. We walked up to him and I asked, "What do you got?" He said a new bar was opening and he needed help moving some tables and stools and a few other things. We said sure and hopped in the back seat. The other fellow followed us about 8 blocks to an area just on the other side of the entertainment district. We pulled in an alley behind some house and next to a make-shift stage.. It was the back yard of an older house, there were a lot of large spools sitting around and many of the smaller ones stacked along the side fence. You know, the kind of spools that telephone companies and power companies hold cable on.

He explained that the largest ones would be used as tables and the smaller ones as benches around the tables. We then proceeded shifting them around to have optimal views of the stage. While Carter and I (the other fellow) were moving spools, Mary was emptying ash trays and setting up candles on the tables. John, the fellow who hired us, would give me instructions and turn me loose to get the job done. Carter was, a 69 year old black man, used to physical work, but slow to receive instructions. We then spread some granite sand to fill in obvious holes and wet spots on the ground and Mary raked it out smooth. This was not done to perfection, but sufficient to get through the night.

We had priorities to accomplish before it was time to open, and that meant getting the stage ready. John told us what needed to be done and it was obvious he wasn't sure how to accomplish it. I took over directing operations at this point. I told John that in years past I had put on concerts in the parks back in Maryland and he was confident enough to give me a free reign as I explained what I was going to do.

First, there was a loosely built gazebo frame work over the stage with some lattice on top of it. We needed to pull a tarp over it as a roof to protect the musical equipment in the event of wet weather. It would also make the stage appear complete under the proper lighting. I got a long piece of rope and tied it to the corners of one side and had Carter and John pull it over the lattice and frame work while I used a step ladder to move around and guide it and keep it from becoming snagged. I then tied it down at strategic points.

Next was the lighting. John had a boat load of Christmas lights to be strung around the top of the stage. I first tried using a staple gun but very quickly the staples were gone and none to be had. Using a little ingenuity I utilized nails that were half hammered into the frame and wrapped the light cord around them and was able to encircle the top of the stage twice and along the corners. This done, the musicians started setting up their equipment.

Next was to string some lights from the house to the stage to make for a well lit area. I pulled these off the side of the house and hung them from the back porch to the corner of the stage.

Now imagine if you will, the back porch is now the bar. Along the back, next to the stage is an ice cream vender. From the other side of the stage along the back side fence, are a Vietnamese sandwich vender, a Mexican food vender and a Greek food vender. At the front of the house are set up stools and chairs and on the one side of the front yard a mixed drink vender. Men and Women's port-a-potties are on the other side of the house.

There was one more task to be completed. Wendy, the owner of this enterprise had started putting up a fence across the front to mark the property boundary. She needed to be at other tasks so Mary and I finished putting up the last half of the front fence. With this our work was done for the night.

Carter worked till 7 and Mary and I worked till 8, putting in 4 hours each. We were paid well, in cash, and Mary and I got a free meal and beer. We returned the next day to spread more granite for an hour and a half.

Through all this, because permits were not all in order, the band could not play except for doing their sound check. Wendy and John went to get the permits taken care of on Friday, but I think they may have been expecting too much too fast, but, as things are put in order, it appears we may have some regular cash in the future.



Tuesday October 9 - The Further Adventures of Bonnie and Clyde

Tuesday October 9 - The Further Adventures of Bonnie and Clyde


So it is Saturday October 6, and we can't go back to our regular lair, somebody's throwing a party there. This town goes Longhorn crazy and Saturday was the day to do it with a vengeance. See, it's opening home game and a month ago they had a pre-season scrimmage and that was a party and a half. But today is the official thing and the radio stations are throwing their pre-game parties wherever they can. And wouldn't you know it, our abode got selected. So, we went out for the night. Never mind that this is the coldest night of the fall season so far, down to 41 degrees F. Now I know that to many of my friends and relatives up north 41 degrees ain't that cold. But try lying on the ground or hard pavement and the wind blowing at about 40 mph, you'll freeze your ass off, guaranteed.

So, rather than make our way back to the home, we made ourselves fed and wandered about until we found what seemed to be a relatively uninhabited park. This was just outside the downtown area, but to the southeast. There was a tree, nice and large, with branches that hung down to the ground at their ends, about 240 degrees of the circumference of it, and underneath was clean and dry. We got there about 5:30 P.M. and shifting a couple of times wound up with me seated, leaning against the tree, facing away from the road and Mary sitting between my legs, leaning back on my chest, and eventually we fell asleep.

About 11 P.M. I woke up, I look to my left and …"Oh shit", there about 50 yards away was a cop, mounted on horseback just standing there. The horse was grazing. I woke up Mary, "Shhh … be very quiet and don't move … There's a cop over there on horseback" … Then, the cavalry arrived. Three more mounted police riding all over the place. They began circling the park and us. It appeared as if they were looking for someone. There had been several homeless men who had wandered through earlier.

After circling us, about a dozen times and investigating various structures around the park, a couple of them congregated about the first cop and grazed their horses. A female mounted officer then approached us on horseback and from about 20 yards away said, "Sir, I'm sorry, but the park is closed, you'll have to go", I think she was smiling about the situation. "Yes Ma'am", I said and we gathered our things and walked towards down town.

Leaving Joan Wayne and her three John's, we headed toward downtown and 6th St.. Now remember, This is Texas, and things have a history of being a little wild, and Texans love to party and they are Longhorn football crazy, and this evening was the opening home game. They played West Virginia and there was a sizable West Virginia contingent, a hell of a lot of blue jerseys with the West Virginia WV mixed among the UT longhorn brown, white and black. But they had 6th St. turned into one massive party, with all the crossing streets blocked off for about 6 or 8 blocks. Mary and I tried to walk along the sidewalk, but no good, may as well get out in the middle of the street if you wanted to get anywhere.

Now, also remember, this is the coldest night of the fall season so far. Mary and I are dressed in our Yankee comfort ( such as it is) and still shivering. These kids (and most were, except for an occasional parent alumni) all hyped on booze, football and whatever, in Tee shirts and halter-tops. Appearance is much more important than common sense.

WE made our way from one end of 6th to the other and eventually turned up Congress and made it to a Subway sandwich shop, and sat and enjoyed a meal as civilized human beings.

Now we could not go back to our usual retreat, so we headed past the capital and down 12th St. As cold and windy as it was I figured hovering close to a building and absorbing its heat would be best bet for the time and I knew of such a spot, well hidden.

WE made it to our place for the night, a notched out corner of a parking garage that I had utilized several times prior. We huddled together as close a possible, but it was cold, I mean "witches tit" cold, and windy, 40 + mph windy, all through the night. And yes, it felt like our asses froze. And I might guess we could have experienced the effects of hypothermia. But we made it through and early in the morning moved on to a location in under a bridge along a creek side walk, after a security vehicle at the parking garage made its rounds. Fortunately, it was on the inside and we were hidden on the out, just frozen.

Under the bridge felt warmer, and lower so the wind was not as bad. When we arrived two other men had been standing around and decided to move on. We slept here for an hour or so and was in no hurry to move on as it was Sunday morning and traffic would be slight and the area mostly disserted. Eventually we made our way back to the ARCH, a bit worn, but alive and well.





Monday October 8 - The real adventures of Bonnie and Clyde

Monday October 8 - The real adventures of Bonnie and Clyde


This will probably be covered in at least 2 or possibly 3 posts .. It was an eventful weekend.

Friday Oct. 5

So me and this " certain blonde woman" from Indiana are sleeping, well out of view, behind some small trees and large bushes. She wakes up and wakes me and says, "It's 9:30, we better move."

"Why now", I ask.

"Before the sprinkler comes on."

"OK, but that's not for another hour."

"Well, I'm not getting soaked." And we move over to our alternative behind the wall in the shadow and retire for the better part of the night.

Later that night, early morning around 4 A.M. we wake and talk and engage in a little horse play.

"Shhhh!!! I hear something, be quiet." We both freeze and lay low to the ground. I slowly rise and peek over the wall. "There are two men," I whisper and duck down. We compose ourselves and continue to listen to the sounds of vehicle doors and tailgates opening and closing, equipment being thrown on the ground. Lying closer to the wall, the sounds of something being erected keep us cowering in place, out of sight and undetected.

Trying to remain as much in the shadows as possible I crawl behind some bushes growing on our side of the wall at the top of the steps and peer through the branches extending above the wall, I look for a moment and crawl back, "It looks like they are setting up some Porta-potties". We stay calm and quiet and put, not daring to risk exposure.

I crawl back to look through the bushes again. A large, circus type canopy has been erected in the middle of some bushes circling a part of the walkway. We continue to lay low. The workers are getting closer with whatever they have to do. The sound of equipment being dropped on the walk just on the other side of the wall has us has us alert and ready to bolt, but we remain still, clinging to the corner where the wall meets the ground.

I return to peek over the wall through the bushes. Another canopy is being erected on the other side of the walk opposite the wall. I crawl back and signal my "CBW" to gather her things and crawl along the wall to an area above the bushes and in under them that will conceal her better. She does so and I cover her with my black leather jacket (her white winter coat shows up to well in the light). I push my way under the bushes and lay my head on her side. And we wait, listening to the sounds of workers doing "whatever" but no one has an interest to look over the wall. My alarm on my cell phone goes off as I am attempting to remove the battery. I stuff it under some clothes and attempt to smother the sound as it progressively gets louder. For some strange reason or the grace of God, we are not detected.

It is getting later than I fell comfortable hanging around. I peek through the bushes at the second canopy. It is covering a significant amount of electronic equipment, either PA amp and mixers or broadcasting gear. It is obvious they are not going to leave this kind of stuff unattended. We have got to get out of here.

We crawl along the bushes back away from the wall. It is in the light but we don't have any choice, it's the only way out of here that does not completely expose us.

Now on the back of the trees and bushes that we originally came to in the early evening, we are relatively secure, but still need to exit the area. I walk around to a place (still hidden) to better observe what is going on. More workers are setting up ground markers for some kind of games that will occur later in the day. This is a long open area that we will need to cross and exit on the other side and down the hill, over a wooden bridge and out of here.

A worker becomes curious what is on the other side of these bushes. He walks around in front of me. He sees me and freezes. I think he is as much in shock as I am. He walks away. I walk around and get my "CBW" and tell her "He's seen me, we've got to go."

We both return to my observation post and the worker comes around again, sees us both and walks back up the hill. I tell my "CBW" " Put this over you", signifying my black leather, "It's harder to be seen. We walk straight across the field close to the edge of the woods, and down the hill and across the bridge." … She looks at me and says "I don't want anymore of the Bonnie and Clyde shit." … I forgot to tell her if anyone says anything, "Keep going" … We walk across the field and no one says anything, down the hill and across the bridge. We are in the clear, I begin to breath again … She has a cigarette.

That was Friday night/Saturday morning …

more to come ...



Tuesday October 2 - No Tolerance … or Overkill

Tuesday October 2 - No Tolerance … or Overkill


We're standing in line for lunch. A police car pulls up in front of us, parked opposite the direction of the parking lines. An officer gets out and points at a black man walking down the side walk. He is told to put his hands and possessions on the hood of the police car. "What did I do? I just got out of jail."

A second police cruiser pulls up next to the first and a second officer gets out to observe. A few moments later a third cruiser pulls up across the street and puts its flashing lights on. A third officer gets out and comes to the scene.

The first officer and the black man are engaged in a conversation, and the black man is obviously frustrated. The officers confer among themselves They run the mans I.D. and issue him a ticket … for J-walking. In his case, he did not make it accross the street until after the "Walk" lights had changed.

The black man gathers his belongings and hurries down the walk to catch his bus. The officers continue conversing among themselves, looking around at the crowd of us whho are obviously interested in what is going on. One at a time they get in their cars and pull off behind each other. The car in front has his lights flashing. As the others catch up he turns off his lights.

Over the past several days similar incidents of harassment have occurred. I do not believe that I personally have anything to worry about though. Since I arrived in Austin and the beginning of this "crackdown" I have had my I.D. Checked several times and have no warrants pending. I have told officers exactly how I got here and what my intentions are, and have engaged several in pleasant conversation. They see me standing nearby when they are doing their duty and show no interest in me. I do what they ask me to … stay off the downtown streets in the evenings and night.

Addendum : Since I wrote this Mary has arrived and joined me. She is also witness to some of the doings of the police recently, including harassments and arrests for sitting on the sidewalk. This crackdown, I have been told by police officers, will continue through this month. Some being harassed and arrested I have no pity for, others are caught in between …



Saturday September 29 - Cover Found

Saturday September 29 - Cover Found


It rained last night … poured … but I was safe, totally hidden and dry. I arrived at my usual setting early, several hours early, too early to situate myself as that would undoubtedly draw attention. So, I sat a short way off and waited, and as I looked around, not 20 feet behind me was another spot, in the open, uncovered but ideal for sleeping two and hidden from all directions, as long as you don't stand up, wave your arms and holler, "Hey, here I am". And this is about 8 feet above and not 20 feet from a main street.

As I sat it began to sprinkle, and it was pretty obvious this was going to be an all-nighter. So I decided to wander a little in hopes of finding cover. And I hadn't gone 30 yards before I saw it. Certainly not a day time hang out but perfect for the nights. A relatively new building situated on a hill, with the front at the top and the rest of the structure supported progressively as it continued back, and the side extending out from the supports about 8 feet, with a walled basement under the main structure within the supports. This left an area towards the front in under where the light could not penetrate and had obviously remained dry since it was constructed. The ground under the extended sides was small stones, but in the shaded area that I could utilize it was covered with a padding of dried leaves and grass clippings. I assume it all gets blown here by the wind naturally as the entire area around here is well kept and landscaped.

So I crawled under and up further into the darker area, took off my leather and spread it out over the ground cover, and was set for the night. And beyond my roof … it poured, virtually all night, but I was dry and comfortable.

Later in the night one of my "coons" came from around the front of the building and went past me down the hill, about 20 feet in front of me. It never had a clue that I was there. I could see young people walking by returning from down town about 2:30 A.M., maybe 20 yards away, oblivious. Two "coons" reappeared, coming toward me, they had not seen me. So I made my presence known by banging my half full water bottle on the wall. It made a sound like a drum and scared the "b-jesus" out of the coons and they ran back down the hill and into the woods. Eventually I fell back to sleep, waking at 5:30 A.M. when the alarm on my cell phone went off. The only thing missing is a bathroom … "over the river and through the woods …"



Thursday September 27 - Only Sleeping?

Thursday September 27 - Only Sleeping?


8:00 A.M.

The ARCH has a capacity to sleep approximately 150 individuals, legally. The majority of those who take advantage of sleeping accommodations are "case management" clients. This meaning they are enrolled in a program where their situations are overseen and guided by a "case manager" or counselor to help them get jobs and eventual housing. About 30-60 , who are not case management clients may participate in a lottery each night to see if they may have sleeping accommodations for that night. Otherwise they must seek other accommodations or take their chances on the streets.

I personally made a comment about the number who spend their mornings and afternoons "nodded out" and I could not attach the stigma of "lazy character" on them. This needs to be qualified and should not be taken as a generalization, because there are a great many who simply do not fit, but rather seem to have given up on life and sleeping away their days has become an escape, a drug or alcohol substitute. And I see these mostly in the mornings and they are not the ones who take their chances on the streets, but rather those who have relinquished responsibility for their lives and trust their fate and future to the "system" to make it all come together. And all they have to do is comply when told to, work when and where someone tells them, whatever that might be, and with a minimal amount of effort, they can sleep their lives away. Sleeping or play games on cell phones … just different dream worlds. And how are the majority of us any different?

2:30P.M

Ignorance abounds here, and color makes little difference, just different shades of the same. Now this certainly does not apply to all, there are those who do exhibit significant insight and mental acumen, but they are for most part rarities.

I cannot judge individual cases, not knowing the history and circumstances that have led to their current situation. But I can critique the judgments and current attitudes demonstrated, and this provides enough to presume some past behaviors. And a general (not universal) commonality seems to be a stubborn preference to retain ones own views, ideas and limited perceptions. A wall of resistance to any and all external conceptions exists and rather than tearing down the wall an offensive posturing is assumed to attack "whatever", regardless of the logic and reason to the contrary may be presented. It's a matter of "preferred ignorance".

It has been claimed that "knowledge is power", and to be sure education is a significant move in the right direction. But there are many kinds of knowledge and much that can never be conveyed in the classroom. Yet an attitude to continually learn, and apply what has been learned is essential to survive in this current world's situation. Otherwise I guess we can just satisfy ourselves nodding out at the ARCH.



Monday September 24 - Rikky and Rocky Raccoon

Monday September 24 - Rikky and Rocky Raccoon


I found my place to sleep, and during the evening I shift from behind the trees and bushes to under the shadow of another tree to the dark shadow along a wall that runs the length of some steps and walkway. I am on the grassy side, not on the walkway.

I don't know what time it is, very late or early depending on one's perspective and I am sitting up leaning against the wall. Something is moving about 15 yards in front of me. Gradually my eyes focus on a large ball of fur and two beady little eyes staring back at me. A raccoon, small as raccoons go and apparently just as apprehensive about the situation as I am. I t continues on its way and into the bushes, near where I had recently been sleeping.

In my peripheral vision I notice some unusual motion to my left. I look and another Raccoon is crawling out of the brush and following the path of the first smaller raccoon. The smaller "coon" makes its way back and they meet in the middle of the clearing in front of me. They wrestle with each other and then run off into the woods on the other side of the clearing.

After a while I notice something coming directly towards me. It is in the middle of the clearing before I notice it. It's the smaller raccoon coming straight to me like I was a long lost friend. I make some kind of caustic noise in hopes of dissuading it. It stops for a moment and then continues toward me. I open the top of one of my water bottles and the sound gets the "coons" attention, but not enough to stop it. I then make an unfriendly noise and throw some water at it, to which it becomes frightened and scampers of into the trees across the clearing. Through the night I kept imagining two beady little eyes staring at me from out of the trees at the edge of the clearing.

A few minutes after the "encounter", I see "big coon" in under the tree I had slept under several nights before. He climbs up the tree, about 6 feet, then up further and out on the branches, and then up into higher branches and disappears. My that sucker can climb.

At some point I fell asleep. I don't know whether my visitors returned or not. I'd just as soon forgo their company. "Coons" are known to be friendly and mischievous, and also spreading rabies. I don't want any of that.

The incident reminded me of a time I took my family camping and as we had put the kids down for the night, my wife and I share an encounter with two skunks around the camp fire … but I'll get into that another time.





Sunday September 23 - The Lay of the Land … In the Shadows

Sunday September 23 - The Lay of the Land … In the Shadows


I used to take my family to Civil War reenactments. I was and still am and history and particularly Civil War buff. Anything on the History Channel, actually pertaining to historical events, would catch my attention. I also had amassed a certain amount of reading material on the subjects. Visiting and wandering over old battlefields, studying the "lay of the land", the ridges and depressions of what would otherwise appear to be flat ground gave me an appreciation of how tactics were developed and battles took the turns that they did. At the time I never thought such knowledge would ever serve me in a practical way. But life has a way of taking some unexpected turns.

Shortly after I arrived in Austin I found myself seeking out places to spend the night and hopefully get some sleep. One thing that is noticeable at the ARCH is the number of homeless who end up spending their mornings and afternoons nodded out. I cannot attribute this to anything such as "lazy character". I have gotten to know some of these people and experienced for myself that living life on the streets is no easy or desired way to live, and accommodations have to be made in order to simply survive and avoid confrontations with the law and stay out of jail. This include, for many , the necessity of remaining awake for the majority of the night. The law allows one to sit in most public areas, but beware of falling asleep. Falling asleep in public is "against the law", at least "if you are caught", but if you can avoid being caught "no one cares".

So here I was, not knowing anyone or a damn thing about this city, except that the music is great and Texans obviously like to be entertained and party. But I, roaming the streets, not too far from the state capital building and everything is built up, and I mean built up "big". It don't matter what, just make it big. So I'm beginning to roam not knowing diddly squat, and this thought comes into my mind, "Hide in the shadows". Now I was not pondering anything in particular. I was simply at a loss, but I started to notice the lighting and the affect it had and the shadows it created. And here and there I found spots with enough room to stretch out, lay down and for viewing by any in the light and eyes accustomed to the light; I would become for all practical purposes virtually invisible. I found bushes along fences and walk ways infrequently used, walls that cast shadows in areas otherwise quite visible, landscapes that created safe harbors and unless someone is really struggling to see, out of sight out of mind.

Now I have had to expand into areas further out from the downtown area, to the east and north of the capital building, heading into the University of Texas at Austin. I had been accustomed to the university of Maryland in College Park, MD, but this Texas thing is humongous, and spread out and covering a pretty fair piece of ground. And between the UT and the capital building are hospitals and richer areas including concert hall and sports recreation complex and park areas. And one had better be prepared to do some walking.

And this is where all that Civil War lay of the land stuff come in. In conjunction with the "hiding in the shadows", sleeping accommodations are relatively easy to find.

Now I usually try to wake up by 6:00 A.M. or earlier and get on my way, guaranteed to remain out of sight and keep my rest spot secret. This morning I over slept and did not wake up until 7:00 A.M.. Thank God it was Sunday and there was very little traffic, but it felt so good. I have not missed a nights sleep since I got here. I am one of the very few lucky ones.

Now, I wander, and believe, all the interest and studying tactics and "lay of the land", and seemingly out of nowhere understanding the value of using "shadows" as cover, is there something orchestrating and putting it all together? Something that reaches back into my life and further into history itself, revealing truth and knowledge apparently not disclosed to all? Is it instincts, if so, why not everyone? Or is it just to those who "believe" and "try". Yes, I believe it is more than just my own intelligence, though I also know my I.Q... There is too much that I do not have conscious control over, yet I see things coming together. This would include my experiences at the Terra Haute Lighthouse Mission, and the contacts I have made over the past recent years. There is far more that has been gained and developing than was lost along the way. But I have found it does take senses that are exercised and eyes that have become accustomed to seeing.

I have never had a real serious alcohol or drug problem. Sure, I have a few beers or a couple glasses of wine occasionally, and I have been known to take a few hits when the joint has been passed my way. But nothing that has taken control of me. Yet in the life I am living, I am learning to take it one day at a time. There's really no other way you can do it. If I make it through this night (whatever that night might be)(or day as the case may be), there is another success story.