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.

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.

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?

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 fiancé 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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