Hello, and Welcome to the World Again
Exploring Acts of Compassion and Human Connection Amidst Homelessness
Apologies for going dark for the past month and a half. It’s been a whirlwind of change and activity. Maria and I ended our marriage of 14 years in November and have since been reshaping it into an evolving friendship. She moved to Florida, I moved to Albuquerque. We both started new jobs and are reshaping our lives into something altogether different.
It seems as though Creator had a different vision for our lives than the quiet existence of homesteading in a remote location with very little contact with the outside world. Instead we are both engaged in a metropolisistic dance of people, people, people.
I’ve been working a great deal while packing, cleaning, and moving from our cabin in the woods, trekking belongings 140 miles eastward to a storage unit in the centrality of big city, while in temporary domicile with a friend from my former men’s group. Thankfully, the move is now complete.
I’ve begun working with the State of New Mexico, Small Business Development Center in the process of crafting a program to teach entrepreneurial skills to incarcerated individuals. And I can’t begin to express the synchronistic nature of how this job fell into my lap.
I’ve had a long-held secret desire to work with incarcerated people, as I’ve felt a deep sadness for the way our culture brands those who have served time with a life-long Scarlet Letter deeming them unworthy of many of the benefits the rest of us so often take for granted, such as fair-interest loans, jobs with dignity, clean and safe apartments, and freedom from judgement as being less than for mistakes made years prior. Never mind that making life difficult for formerly incarcerated individuals contributes to a higher rate of recidivism instead of actually helping them reintegrate.
But what’s been on my mind and weighing heavy on my heart of late is homelessness. For a couple months I’ve been helping a friend with a start-up business to transition from early to mid-stage, and his warehouse is located in one of the worse parts of Albuquerque. Each morning I’ve pulled up to the chain-link barbed-wire fence at an early hour there are at least 30 homeless people within a stone’s throw, burning fires in the alley, requisitioning whatever combustibles they can find to stay warm in the frigid open air of late fall, early winter.
Often I observe small groups of them huddled together shooting up or smoking Fentanyl. Obvious mental health issues abound, severe addiction, and an unwillingness to get the kind of help that comes with the important attached string of staying clean and sober.
My heart goes out to them, sending waves of compassion and blessings, hoping that maybe some of them (one of them) can feel a spark of something within that brings about a change. On one occasion I was guiding a truck that needed to pull into an alley so that it could back into our yard, but there were so many homeless people milling about in the alley that the truck had little room to pull in. There was a group of them to one side sprawled about on the ground. I looked to them with an express of asking when one of them said, “Sorry bro, I would get up but I’m too depressed to move.”
What can you say to that?
Clinical depression is real and debilitating and affects a growing number of people.
I attended a Christmas dinner with friends and somehow the conversation migrated to the topic of homelessness. Finding myself in the company of some rather learned and accomplished individuals, I was surrounded by people capable of rational analysis and nuance. It was a great conversation in that there was no judgement, no shaming, no egoic attachment to being right. Just discussion and consideration.
At one point when the conversation had temporarily migrated away from homelessness one of my friends was staring at me with a look that suggested he had something to say to me. So, I said, “It seems like you have something to say.” He replied, “I’m trying to understand you.”
He was genuinely trying to understand my perspective because I was the only one in the room who gives money to homeless people. The others were mostly of the mind that giving money to homeless people doesn’t help them because they’ll just use the money to buy drugs.
True for many.
They were also of the mindset that there is a plethora of programs to help them, but that homeless people largely don’t want the help.
Which may also be true for many.
But my position is that the reason I give them money is not about helping them necessarily. Rather it’s more about compassion and that the mere expression of compassion for another human being has value in and of itself. You could say that in the act of giving there is an energy exchanged that carries more value than the mere monetary value or the cup of coffee they purchase with it or another hit on the pipe.
It doesn’t matter what they do with the money. What matters is that we acknowledge them in their suffering and send waves of compassion to wash over them like a gushing mountain spring flowing over the grime of homeless city living, addiction, mental health, poverty, crime, and desperation.
What matters is that we send them our loving prayers.
Yes, we can give them food instead. But usually they would rather have the money, so they get to decide what to do with it, what food they eat or drugs they buy.
I’m not suggesting enablement. Just simple acts of compassion, which can be expressed in many ways. A buck or two is just one way.
And there is another reason to send them our compassion, which is to acknowledge that we are all connected — one humanity.
And yes, there are important systemic changes that would be far more effective than current methods. But until our society becomes more enlightened and compassionate, what if we view the homeless as doing us an important service — reminding us of our interdependence.
Through our empathy, we feel their suffering, and we are reminded of our humanness. That, in a sense, is a great gift.
I can’t say I’ll return to my prior writing cadence anytime soon, as my life has greatly transformed. I’m much busier now, and often feel too exhausted to write even when ideas are forming in my mind. But I’m here and I’m still pondering life in deep ways.
Until next time.
Glenn
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Glenn, thank you for this reflection and for your expression of humanity. This post touched me in so many different ways...
First, I have so much respect for you and Maria, and the loving decision you've made together. It's a decision that isn't easy, but it honors you both. As one of the rare few people who's done the work of evolving a marriage out of a union and into a deeper friendship, I know the many nuances involved. It's heavy, it's healing, it's commendable, and I support you both.
I have a B.A. in criminal justice and I was profoundly affected by the rates of recidivism, the lack of rights for the formerly incarcerated, and the absence of viable rehabilitation. At the time I felt overwhelmed, deeply saddened, and hopeless to help, so when I graduated I never did anything with that degree... I am thrilled to hear of your new position and look forward to talking with you about it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you're doing.
I often give money to the homeless if I have cash on me. In the winter I've been known to purchase socks and blankets and pass them out. This is one of my favorite non-profits - they employ homeless people and make coats that double as sleeping bags. It's a phenomenal organization:
https://www.empowermentplan.org/the-coat
Last year I started filling gallon ziplocks with things like granola bars, random snacks, chapstick, gloves, tylenol/advil, sharpies, gold bond powder, and the like, plus a $5 bill, and passing them out when I see someone with a sign on the corner. I was essentially homeless by choice for several years of my life, living happily and very simply in a tent, and though it was a conscious choice for me, I learned enough during that time to have compassion, understanding, and love for anyone on the streets. No matter how they got there, we are all one, we are all human, and everyone deserves the same level of respect and human decency...
I don't know that I've accurately expressed my feelings after reading this beautiful post, Glenn, but I hope you feel that my heart is in resonance. Sending hugs your way.
Many homeless chose to be homeless, some due to their drug use but many as they have mental problems and will end up in prison. Seems circular thought. More help is needed at all levels and much better mental help in jails. I wish you the very best in your next adventure.