what we can.

I thought I had been through enough to handle everything by now.
Little could make me happier, more thrilled and humbled meeting such exquisite souls.
And life goes on, and I know its beauty – from the homeless person to
your shine.

There is no difference. You could easily be on the streets tomorrow. In hours. In minutes. Life is adventure, needs to be. Security is only imagined. Everything burns, everything changes – and in change comes magick.

Jerome. That is his name. He has been living on the streets for six months, losing everything when his wife and mother died a few months apart.
I walked past, we made eye contact, he said nor asked for nothing.

Just another homeless person.

no. No one is “just” anything.
I stopped. Turned around and and walked back to him. in that half block between the streets, I pushed out the jaded person I had become… and again became who I AM.
In a few short steps, I thought of the many times I have been homeless. Living between buildings, in strange yet sheltered warehouse carcasses, on the beach underneath a sandstone bluff, trying to sleep under Safeway at 16th & Portrero.

I know. I have been here before, and carry it with me as a reminder.

His name is Jerome. I gave him everything I had – one dollar, a couple cigarettes. I sat with him for 20 minutes – or ten, or a lifetime and saw him as a person.
Take the time. Take the time to adore all and everything – or just simply say…



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