Memory Lane

If there is anything good about full moons, it is the potential for clearing the cobwebs of unhealed yuck. I’m dealing with a massive yuck in my neck and head and the memories playing through my mind feel compelled to be released.

I’ve stopped talking too much about my homeless experience. The reaction and feedback is getting better, less judgmental, but I have noticed I still generally distrust humanity a bit too much for my liking and that distrust stems largely from the witnessing that occurred while I was homeless.

I’d have to explain my whole spiritual journey in order for some of the hows to make sense, how I ended up in the particular predicament I’m going to share today but suffice it to say my life has not been ordinary and this here, is another example of the fruits of the “off the beaten path” I’ve taken.

My mother, my brother, my young son, my boyfriend, my dog and I had travelled quite a ways up the winding roads of a mountain outside Boulder, Colorado. We were attempting to buy some time, to regroup, to figure out a plan for survival. We were stationed on BLM land what felt like planets away from civilization.

Atop this rocky outcrop we gathered. We did not have tents, but we did have two vehicles, some tarps, some blankets, food and water. We were there only a couple of days when one of the rangers came through to remind us we were being observed and the clock was ticking. 14 days in one spot is the maximum allowed. A twenty-five-minute harrowing drive to civilization, no address, no shower, but surprisingly no fear. It’s hard to be so utterly bereft of normalcy, but those are times being a shaman helps. If everything is a spiritual lesson, everything is always normal.

But looking back at the situation, my mother nearing seventy surviving on a mountain like a vagabond puts it into perspective for me. A woman who had worked two jobs for most of my rearing. A woman who had always given of her short supply as a way of being, a way of life. A woman who had magic I am only now seeing clearly. Her love had been such a powerful shield against the effects of poverty, the brutal force of it didn’t hit me fully until I had to enter that shelter three years ago and see first hand how much differently poverty had impacted my life in comparison to others of equal financial and dysfunctional measure.

It was those mortgage scams that did her in. The man she was married to from the time I was 14 was always looking for the easy money. Why good women end up with lousy men must be some sort of strange angelic hazing. A reverse take on the slaying of the dragon. Her dragon wannabe had signed them up for a second and third mortgage, bought a fixer upper to rent and when the hike hit, and the mortgage jumped sky high, he left and she lost everything.

This was about the same time that I was attempting to finish up my Bachelor’s degree in a small town a few hours from there. I had somehow managed to put together a theme, a group of paintings that both told my story and highlighted a few secrets of the heavenly realms simultaneously. To say there occurred a perfect storm is putting it mildly. I lost everything too. Including all the family relics and a lifetime of gathering, she had stored in my Section 8 housing after the foreclosures.

With the absence of all material possessions, there is not much choice left but to follow Spirit. There’s a hell of lot more to the story. Boulder is a strange, strange place. But there we were, over a thousand miles from any sense of the home Minnesota had been for us. On a mountain. Without even a tent. I don’t suppose my body has fully processed the remnants of fear from that trauma. You don’t have time to be afraid when the top of a mountain is as close to safe as you can get.

While we were perched in that never place, a group of college aged kids had come up and set up camp about fifty feet from our home that wasn’t a home. There must have been over twenty. They came in car after car to party in seclusion for the weekend. Fifty feet away from a grandma, a grandson, and the rest of us. I suppose it was their reaction to us, which I had experienced so many, many times that has led to my continued seclusion and distrust. The last of the veils that must be ripped away, addressed, literally healed …for all of us.

“Keep your dismay, your need, your suffering, your not up to par, your bad break, your bad luck, your misfortune, your confusing circumstance, your less than, your pain…. Over there. Cause… we’re trying to drink ourselves to sickness and play coy with our sexual desires and forget the world we come from which produces the likes of you… over here.” They came. They partied. They left. A grandma, a grandson, and the rest of us.

We have made much progress since then. But people are still killing themselves slowly and flagrantly on the streets of our cities. Openly committing acts of hopelessness and despair in public, their slow demise a last offering, the last prayer uttered to break through the mental barriers so many have erected. The siren song. The wake-up call. The neon sign. Hear it. Hear it before it gets louder and you can hear nothing else. See it. And see the steps that must be taken to abundantly create a civilization that remains in literal people, generation after generation after generation. Not to be remembered and dug up by some new group somewhere far off in the distant future, trying to piece together the history of this planet by examining ancient mounds and temples and crumbled skyscrapers but by conversations with those who have flourished because we made a stand here and now to make sure they would.

Homelessness is our ground zero. Every crime that has been committed against the least of us is recorded in the lives of those giving the last of their breath to get you to see. Where there is compassion, there is hope. Where there is hope, there is opportunity. Where there is opportunity, there is a chance for humanity to shine. Where humanity shines, there is community and life and joy and God. Where there is God (Divinity), there is Grace. Where there is Grace, there is eternal love and ALL things become possible. Even those you can’t imagine.

Be the blessing ❤


2 thoughts on “Memory Lane

  1. Theres a reason why this showed up now. Strong clearings going on. We’re all in this together. If one is down, the rest can’t pretend it isn’t happening. This is the Key. Compassion. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Feels like we reached another huge breakthrough… massive blockages removed, understandings on levels where there had previously been confusion and such. I am excited for your birthday… it’s come up again, last night and again while writing this. Interesting. I’m so glad you’re here 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ 11:49


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