Simple Progressions

The following are a series of columns previously published in street roots over a two and a half year period of time.

Street Lessons
Being stripped of material possessions can be traumatic. It can also be a growth experience.
Many people forced into homelessness spend months or years hauling around bags of the last remnants of their material lives. In our consumer culture, the corporate media machine teaches us that our being is defined by the products that surround us. This brain washing is difficult to escape.
Part of the emotional pain I felt from becoming homeless was my perception of how others viewed me. I thought people saw me as having little value because I was not wearing the current fashion and walking instead of driving a car. I felt ashamed because I wasn’t surrounded by the right things. At first, I couldn’t let go of the last of my possessions. I carried three bags, totaling about 90 pounds, around with me day and night.
The load marked me as homeless, prevented me from getting work. Security guards and police watched me as I walked by. The bags limited the places I could go and were a real pain in the lower back. Eventually it was the lower back pain that led to my freedom from material possession.
Breaking the mental and emotional bonds to material things our culture ingrains in us opens the mind to new possibilities. When you no longer pressure yourself to earn more money to buy more goods, you are free to give your time to ideas and interests you believe in. Beyond that, you start to see the open hypocrisy our culture and society embraces.
I have a tendency to be critical of shortsighted solutions that ignore the root causes of a problem. When government agencies and business interests put all the blame on the person who is homeless for conditions that society creates and maintains, I feel a responsibility to speak out.
It is morally reprehensible to leave human beings on the street. It is worse to harass people for sleeping outside when affordable housing and shelter falls far short of the need. To find out who is to blame, we need but look in the mirror. I include myself in this criticism, and this is why I volunteer at street roots and crossroads.
Portland has a history of allowing business interest to dominate influence of public officials. Tom Potter will change that.
Main stream media allows corporate America to influence what they say. Executive editors of news programs often let concerns of how potential advertisers will perceive a story outweigh serving the public interest. The self-righteous right-wing has built a two decade movement of harassing journalist and columnist who speak the truth against them. Phil Donahue was one of the first to fall. Main stream media is cowed.
This is why alternative media is crucial. We need people and organizations who are not afraid to speak the truth and who do not bow down to the bottom line dividing red from black.
Grants that go to agencies bloated with middle-class wage earners looking down on those they claim to be helping, are not the answer. A big part of the housing vouchers from the recent federal block grant will go to pay for rooms in buildings owned by the same homeless institution that is being paid to oversee the grant and will provide the bulk of drug and alcohol services.
Although many agencies are listed as partaking in the grant, a lot of that money will cycle through the other agencies back to Central City Concern. I think it is great that Portland landed this windfall of federal grant money, I just don’t believe it will be efficiently spent.
I keep hearing that it costs $100,000 to build an affordable housing unit the size of a parking space. I don’t think that is the most efficient use of the money.
For adults, I like the idea of shared housing, four or five people contributing to a house payment.
When equity builds, use it to put a down payment on another home to house more low-income adults. This is a concept that builds self-respect in the individuals involved as well as being self-perpetuating. All it takes to implement this strategy is a little faith in low-income residents and a relatively small amount of seed money.
This is possible when you open your mind to the potential that a homeless person can be self-determining, and a part of the solution, instead of a part of the problem.

Chillin’
Jan. 5, 2004 the high temperature was around 23 degrees. That evening a homeless couple lay huddled under a pile of emergency blankets, the cold east wind biting through the layers.
They were two doors down from the street roots office. I repeatedly offered to let them sleep in the office when I took hot coffee out to them. Each time they declined the offer saying that if things got too cold they could come inside. People surviving outside tend to be an independent, hardy lot.
Several grass roots organizations took it upon themselves to open their doors to people outside. You see, we recognize an emergency when the wind chill is at or below zero degrees. Different groups coordinated teams of people to sweep the streets looking for people and urging them to go to the shelters.
Why, you might ask, are those senseless homeless people so resistant to going to shelters?
Well, my experience has lead me to stay as far away from the shelters as possible. This independence is born from a need for dignity as well as survival. When so many charity models are wounding to the human spirit, preaching condemnation instead of a message of hope, it is no wonder that many homeless prefer sleeping in the dirt to being humiliated in some church pew.
When the wind blows coldest, the shelters fill fast, leaving the slow and less savvy to shiver on the streets. If you depend on shelters, you are bound to spend some weary wet nights wandering the streets. You will most likely be sick with the flu or some other contagious disease, what little energy you have being spent shuffling down the street in an effort to stay warm.
That is why some folks like myself set up camp in an out-of-the-way spot. Having a tarp and sleeping bag stashed is not about comfort; it’s about safety. I can understand why some people are upset about others sleeping out. I would have to pay a couple thousand a month to get the view I have from my camp. I’d be jealous of me, too.
I’ve heard raccoons howl at the moon and chase screaming mountain beavers in a life and death race for survival. I’ve seen dragonflies dance, heard the owl hoot in search of a mate, Redtail hawks being harassed by crows who are badgered by sparrows, and felt my spirit’s batteries recharge by the essence of nature that surrounds me.
It’s a mixed bag of experiences, the stresses and pleasures of adventure intertwined, that the pioneer spirit thrives in. Shelters on the other hand are often used as a discharged destination from prison and mental institutions. They provide a ready reason to commit more crimes or aggravate the already stressed-out mental condition of those our society has cast out.
The system spends 30 times more money on maintaining people in homelessness than it spends on getting people housed. The same people, who through policy and procedure deny opportunities to those excluded from society, will rally support when asked for funding which primarily lines the pockets of middle-class social workers. The prejudice is echoed in policy, mainstream media and hate talk shows like Lars Larson.
The answer to ending homelessness must start with an end to the hate, ignorance and indifference that help to create and maintain it. Until that day, I’m at peace leaving a small footprint and sleeping in my modest camp.

The Tough Times
That little hamster driving the rumor mill has been working overtime lately.
Several "grass roots" organizations heard comments, through the grapevine, that the City Council was displeased with them. It started after crossroads had the audacity to hand out sleeping bags, a demonstration of the needs of Portland’s homeless, in front of city hall. Then, members of crossroads addressed the City Council, presenting the radical concept that people should have a right to sleep.
I have a friend, Chris, who thinks City Council members have an opportunity for spiritual growth. He’d like to extend an open invitation to the City Council: Leave your cash and credit cards at home, and spend a day and night in the homeless system. You could challenge your immune system by eating breakfast at the Blanchet House, after that you may decide to purchase your lunch.
Time to panhandle. Holding a sign will most likely generate a visit from the friendly "Clean and Safe" cops. They present an intimidating attitude considering that in reality they are little more than security guards. They may offer you a place to stay but don’t believe them. The jails are full.
You end up being ordered to move along. Luckily, you managed to scrounge up a dollar, just enough to get a burger at McDonalds.
You’re still hungry, you ask around for a place too eat. Salvation Army feeds at 3:30 p.m. It’s 2 p.m. now. Head to Waterfront Park and chill out because the mercury is at 90 degrees. When you get there you see hundreds of people laying around, enjoying the blue sky, sunshine and easy access to drug dealers. The police know who the dealers are but will race past a drug deal if they see a homeless person lying down wrapped in a blanket.
Heck, it’s too hot for blankets, anyway.
A sudden urgency comes upon you: The-call-of-nature, abdominal cramping with that got-to-go-now feeling. Thank god for public restrooms! This is a great time to practice the funny walk. You know, short quick strides with the muscles of your gluteus maximus clenched.
Is that an angry mob outside the bathroom? Well, it seems some druggy has been occupying the restroom for the past 45 minutes. Now you’re mad, but pounding on the door and yelling have little effect other than swollen knuckles. It was a metal door. Isn’t it funny that something air tight isn’t water tight? You feel something dribble down your leg.
Where is another restroom? You walk around — well, more like shuffle, asking at offices and restaurants. The most common reaction is a scrunched up nose. Congratulations. You have acquired a homeless aura: The combination of perspiration and diarrhea make you authentic.
Well you’ve made it to the Salvation Army. Relief at last. You knock on the door and the guy you see at the reception desk through the glass ignores you. Feeling the fuse shorten you yell out the urgent need to use the damn toilet. Suddenly, desk guy pays attention to you. He will now be able to exercise his small bit of power by refusing you access to the bathroom. The irony — that someone that has been homeless (the desk guy) exhibits so little compassion to another human being enduring the powerlessness of being homeless — escapes you for the moment.
Desk guy sends you on your way. The Adult and Family Services office is across the street. We can always rely on the government can’t we? Why not apply for government assistance while in the neighborhood?
Today you have other priorities. The pain is causing you to walk stooped over. Your face is pale and grimaced. As you walk by a couple of construction workers sitting in an old Scottsdale pick-up, you hear the comment, "Watch the tools. There goes another junkie." You get a feeling it was directed at you.
So you enter the AFS office. About a dozen people are waiting in the lobby for their numbers to come up. Three social workers are at the front counter, one with a client, the other two are chatting and joking with each other. You have just entered the "Client Zone."
Approaching the two social workers, you stand at the counter for a few moments waiting for acknowledgement. Social workers know damn good and well they have a lot of power to influence a client’s life. Subconsciously, they understand it is OK feeling superior to the client. It takes training and effort to maintain sensitivity to the clients’ needs. These two ain’t had that training.
"Excuse me, but I was wondering…" and you’re cut off.
"Take a number and you’ll be helped at the information counter." states the social worker.
"But I just need…" and you’re cut off again.
"The numbers are in the red dispenser." And the social worker turns away.
"THE BATHROOM! WHERE’S THE BATHROOM!" Your frazzled nerves have snapped.
The social workers have now evaluated your case and determined it looks, sounds and smells like a nut. One social worker signals the security guard while the other addresses you like a child, "Yelling is inappropriate behavior for this office. If you will please take a number and sit down you will be helped as soon as possible."
"Can I help you?" you hear the voice of the security guard.
"Yes I need to know where the restroom is," your voice is a little shaky and the pain is making you desperate.
"The clients’ restroom is closed," the guard says, "and we don’t allow anyone under the influence to remain in this building."
You feel insulted and defensively state, "I AM NOT UNDER THE INFLUENCE!"
Then you add in a subdued tone, "May I please use another restroom."
The security guard shows no give. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave now."
Just as the anger starts to overwhelm you it is replaced by humiliation. The Blanchet House breakfast has broken free in a noisy wet slide to the floor.
You now have the complete attention of everyone in the room. The smell is making you feel ill, people are moving away from you.
You turn and walk out the door, swearing to yourself you will never show your face in that office again.

Foul Mouth
The pain of an abscessed tooth can turn life into agony. The pain drives away any desire to eat, the ability to sleep and dictates how you move.
I spent a weekend outside curled up in a wet sleeping bag trying to sleep, but the perpetual pain from that packet of pus denied me that escape. The poisons seeped into my systems, muscles ache, fevers rise and my strength slipped away. At this point shooting me in the head would be an act of mercy.
I wasn’t toughing it out; I simply had no other options at the time. I was following the path of least pain, until Monday morning when Old Town Clinic would open up. Old Town Clinic allows for one dental voucher per day. The competition for the one voucher tends to get people at the door early. I was standing outside waiting at 5 a.m. Monday morning. The next guy didn’t show up until after 5:30 a.m., he was shit outta luck.
I felt empathy for the pain he was going through, hell I was going through the same crap, but there was no way I was going to give up my chance at a voucher. This is a case of survival of the most desperate. This morning five other people stopped by hoping they would be the first with a dental problem only to walk away into another day of agony.
I was the first one through the door when they opened at 8:15 a.m. I recognized the man at the intake desk from the previous Friday. I had been told then the one per day voucher is gone first thing in the morning. Today he hooked me up with a call to Multnomah County Dental Access Program which is where the voucher comes from.
The Dental Access Program searched through a database of clinics and appointments to set me up with the soonest possible appointment Wednesday November 17th at East County Health Center. I felt sincere gratitude for the efforts involved. A program such as this surviving the budget cut processes forced upon many social services shows respect for those suffering.
The dentist determined the abscess was too swollen to pull the tooth and because it was inside the jaw it would be risky to lance. I was criticized for taking too much Ibuprofen, I had been going through 50each 200mg tablets a day. That quantity can shut down your kidneys. They prescribed Penicillin for the infection and tried to get me to accept stronger pain medication instead of the ibuprofen. I refused the pain medication, being homeless I am a little sensitive to stereotypes and I didn’t want them thinking I was a drug addict.
They set me up with an appointment to get my tooth pulled on my birthday the day before Thanksgiving. So much for the turkey.
I filled the antibiotic prescription and went out to sell the paper. Turns out not getting the pain medication was a big mistake; the abscess was growing and turning a darker shade of red. I had hoped the antibiotics would kick in sooner. The pain was driving me nuts; all I wanted to do was sell enough papers to buy another bottle of ibuprofen. It took me about an hour and a half, in other words an eternity.
The pain, discoloration and rising fever had me concerned; I went to the V.A. hospital emergency room. I was surprised they saw me without a I.D. card. The abscess had turned a dark purple, as the doctor was examining it I smelled something gone bad. I apologized to the doctor for my feet smelling so bad. The doctor said the abscess had just broke at about the same time this gross taste filled my mouth. I felt like I might throw up so I stumbled to the sink to rinse out my mouth.
The doctor was also very critical of the amount of ibuprofen I was consuming, and when I told her I didn’t need any prescription pain killers she made me promise I wouldn’t take any more Ibuprofen. Once the abscess burst the pain disappears. I was in no pain now and I felt assured the antibiotics would be able to do the job. The only other side effect was that I was only able to open my jaw about half an inch. The doctor gave me a tetanus shot just in case. With all the cuts the V.A. has been going through I was really impressed with the level of service I received.
I waddled through the week until the tooth was pulled slurping soup and drinking those meal in a can drinks with all the vitamins. A side effect was I lost ten pounds.
When I showed up for my on call dental appointment I was seen within 15 minutes. Dr Louie DMD had the tooth out within 20 minutes of sitting in the chair. It seems to me dentists do a much better job of pain management than they used to. I was out of the office, a mouth stuffed with cotton pads, in just over half an hour. This time I didn’t turn down the pain medication.
I appreciate the efforts of the professionals, the social service workers and policy makers who had the fore sight to keep this program in the budget.

Cycles of Violence
Chet Sadowski curls up in a sleeping bag to fend off the cold. Sleeping outside is hard on his arthritis, and concrete is not much of a mattress, but Chet is a rugged individualist. Chet lost part of a foot to frostbite, so he is no longer as spry as he once was. Some people see Chet and have empathy, some spy an easy victim.
Sunday night Chet awoke to violence. He took a blow to the side of his head and during the following haze felt a hand going through his pockets. Chet said, "I’d have hit him with my cane but my head was spinning too fast." By the time Chet was fully conscious, the assailant was long gone. Chet felt it was useless to contact the police since they had refused to file reports in the past. Chet recalls "I’ve been on the streets for seven years and I can’t count the number of times I’ve been robbed."
The streets of Portland have become more violent. Violence has increased in both frequency and severity. How and why is this happening? Violence is learned by starting small and then growing too more aggressive and challenging behaviors. It can start by rolling a drunk or stealing from someone disabled.
Many police officers complain it is difficult to contact homeless when investigating and prosecuting a case, so taking a report is a waste of time.
The consequence of this shoddy police work is the robbery that happened to the visitor from London England in October 2004. How does the City react? They increase sweeps of homeless camps, and target homeless people for warrant checks. If someone has an out of town citation for a minor offense, ship ‘em off, out of sight out of mind. These politically expedient responses inflict undo suffering on those least able to defend themselves in our society.
The fear on the street is growing. Street people are sleeping in larger groups for safety. The city receives calls from business and homeowners who are fearful of the growing numbers of both homeless and homeless camps. Some of the fear is financial based and some fear for personal safety. Regardless of the motivation property owners have more influence than poverty owners.
The ignorant, usually frequent listeners to right-wing radio talk shows, want to blame the poor and outcast for societies ills. Unless we are willing to look past the surface into the root cause we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past.


Photovoice
In January 05, the organization crossroads handed out 45 cameras to homeless community members. The intent is to capture images reflecting experiences and concerns from a homeless perspective.
Terrence Killian and Lisa Hawash are coordinating the project, called Photovoice, for crossroads. The two, both pursuing their masters in social work at Portland State University, were brought in as interns for the project.
"A lot of the visual communication being done around homelessness is being done by professionals, photojournalists and such." Killian says, "I think that this project being done by homeless people will communicate views that other people just can’t see."
This endeavor is styled after the Photovoice process Caroline C. Wang and Mary Ann Burris developed in China. In that project, women seeking medical help snapped pictures communicating their struggles and successes. The Photovoice process was used again in Flint, Mich. to document the experiences and perspectives of homeless people.
Photovoice blends a grassroots approach to photography and social action. It provides cameras not to policymakers or professionals, but to people with the least access to those who make decisions affecting their lives. From the villages of rural China to the homeless shelter in Ann Arbor, Mich., people have used Photovoice to amplify their visions and experience.
Photovoice has three goals. It enables people to record and reflect their community's strengths and problems. It promotes dialogue about important issues through group discussion and photographs. Finally, it engages policymakers.
Stephen Voss, a freelance photographer who has done work with Sisters of the Road and street roots, will be assisting in the orientation. He advised participants on photo composition, technique and ethics of getting consent before taking pictures of people. He has photos published in the books "America 24/7" and "Oregon 24/7".
The orientation was facilitated by Voss, Killian and Hawash. The potential subject matter and composition of the photos were discussed, with homeless community members driving the conversation. Getting permission before the shot was emphasized.
"We started with a blanket permission statement that protects Sisters, allows us to use the photo for publication, in the anthology, and to go with the research. We need to get permission from every person whose picture we take." Lisa Hawash said, "A verbal yes is needed before the picture is snapped, and the permission slip must be signed or we will X out that picture."
"I imagine there will be some resistance from missions and social service providers to our participants snapping pictures." Killian comments, "They want to control how the public perceives them. When someone in a social service agency is approached by a client they can pretty much dictate what they want."
Homeless participants will receive photo credits for any pictures published, copies of the photos they take and a $10 gift certificate.
"Sisters of the Road’s Development Director Monica Beemer talked with us when we started our internship. She said this would be a perfect project for us. This is the most exciting thing I have ever been involved with." Killian said, "Monica pretty much said you guys are gonna be the bosses. It has been quite an experience so far."

Source of Solution
There will come a day when we, the outcast and downtrodden, shall lead by example. I see a vision of an eco-community, an open model of sustainable living. Experimental housing made up of a variety of eco-friendly structures. Electricity generated from photovoltic systems and windmills spinning in the breeze. An open-air market with shops selling handmade goods, produce organically grown on site and seminars about everything from ecologically sound building practices to grassroots organizing. This is one way to showcase Dignity Village’s charming diversity and parlay it into a financially self-sustaining community.
Dignity Village is positioned to develop into just such a community. While it is true they already have experimented with these various concepts on a small scale, in order to become sustainable, the scale of the model must grow. Ten to 20 acres of productive land would be room to grow into a self-sustaining eco-community. A section for eco-housing, a section for raised-bed gardening, an area to meet, teach and have conferences, a workshop area all villagers can share and an open market, similar to Saturday Market with music and a festive atmosphere.
Dignity Village already has international renown. Turned into an eco-community, it would be a draw for tourism as well as an added landmark in Portland. A savvy politician would recognize the concept’s significance is beyond just another baseball team. The future economic and ecological challenges we face are going to take some serious decisions. Now is the time to put a model in place and work toward living in the solution.
Let us look to the outcasts of society for the solutions of tomorrow. The homeless community has long been a breeding ground of social change. The poor are not as heavily invested in the status quo as those burdened with materialism. We are a population conditioned to endure what other segments of the community would not.
From a vision of village, in a pioneering spirit of cooperation, we (those of us with enough conscience to care) shall demonstrate how to walk on this earth and leave a small footprint. Although those who idle in high places look upon us with derision, we shall stand with our heads held high. We shall respect the balance of the earth. We have been chosen to lead, not by the powers controlling this earthly government, but by ourselves and our enlightened sense of responsibility. Our own sense of well-being tells us that the ecology, economy and society have lost harmony. It is on our shoulders to demonstrate a way of living at peace with our environment.
We need continuing help to build momentum up to the point that the inertia of this project can sustain itself. The project that first started as "Out of the Doorways" was, in the beginning, little more than a hope and a prayer. It blossomed into Dignity Village that survives today on less than an acre of asphalt. The city put them out there to wither and die. But like the dandelion growing through a crack in a concrete sidewalk, Dignity has struggled, grown and flourished. The chain link fence surrounding Dignity Village is a mere physical barrier. It does not bind the spirit that is the life-blood of Dignity. It is the spirit flowing throughout the communities of Portland that have the power to make this vision come to fulfillment.

Simplicity is Solution
Recently a real character walked into the street roots office. JC, who refers to himself as "Don’t use my name in vain JC," started his introduction by glaring at me hard and challenging my sexuality. Then JC goes on to say street roots is afraid of speaking the truth.
I get the general feeling this guy is trying to get my goat. He is Native American and presents a corresponding sense of humor. When you have been repeatedly stomped on, your sense of humor can appear terse to some.
Next thing he does is flash a couple of thousand-dollar bills and says, "You want some of these?" This gross display was a test of my reactions and is JC’s way of poking fun at the values of corporate society. I tell him what I want is an interview.
Street roots has been working on a story concept about people sleeping in Forest Park and I recognized him as someone who slept there in years gone by.
I guess I passed the test because he settled down and agreed to help with this article.
This started to be about Forest Park, but as the interview went on it just seemed to have a different ring. What developed was a comment on a corporate lifestyle versus a natural lifestyle.
JC summarizes why he values a simple lifestyle: "To me living outside puts me in tune with nature, a slower pace than the city. I come out of the woods and I feel renewed spiritually so I can deal with the city in a state of ease. Spiritual balance is crucial to enjoying health and happiness. Most people are not happy; they are wrapped up in self greed and that holds them back."
Portland holds a special place in JC’s mind. "I enjoy living outside in Portland. This is a great artist town, whether doing portraits at Saturday Market, sculptures or whatever," he said. JC also appreciates the people; "I love meeting people. One of the best human beings I have ever met is Jada Mae Langloss. She has a good sense of humor and always sticks up for the underdog, but if you get on her bad side, watch out." Several members of street roots as well as City Hall can attest to the accuracy of this statement.
Living the simple life can incorporate simple energy solutions, JC gives his interpretation, "I travel by bike, just taking my time to get there. The last place I traveled to was the Rainbow Gathering. The town it was held in was Likely, California. It was high, dry and warm. The altitude made the air kind of thin. I just got back two days ago after a month-long experience."
For some this would be next to impossible, but JC takes his pedaling in stride.
"When traveling on my bike I like to rise with the sun, then ride most of the day with short 20-minute breaks or walk awhile if my legs tighten up. I run on water and chocolate bars, sounds crazy I know, but that chocolate is good stuff. I’ll pedal all day then settle down with the sun. The windiest part of the trip was in Klamath Falls. The hills and the water made the wind tricky to ride through."
A part of JC’s life is sharing knowledge and experience, "A lot of people don’t understand sweat lodges at all, so at the Gathering I demonstrated how to set them up, the chanting and spiritual aspects." At a time in life most people spend worrying how to pay for prescription drugs, JC works another angle.
"I like to do yoga every morning. It energizes me and pushes away the depression. I’m 65 and I attribute my well being to living outside and being with the elements. Health is number one; if you haven’t got health, nothing else matters."
JC’s return to Portland came with a few changes.
"When I came back to Dignity Village I found out I had been thrown out." It seems JC was a casualty of Dignity’s downsizing. Due to upgrades to meet city fire and safety codes, fewer people are able to stay at Dignity Village. Will the gentrification never end?
When JC lived at Dignity Village, he contributed in creative ways from reporting for the Dignity Village Newsletter to teaching other villagers crafts and skills which can be parlayed into small businesses. "I would seek out the creative people who were open to learn and share my knowledge."
After finding Dignity Village was no longer home, he found out an old business opportunity was still available.
"I do sculptures in several different media, but these people want me to work in wood with a chainsaw. First I visualize, then I draw; finally it is realized in wood. I love my freedom and ability to express myself. I am not stuck in some cubicle making money for somebody else."
Being able to sculpture with JC’s flare causes many people to recognize his genius, but the true brilliance is the simple way he lives.

Walking with God
She wears thongs, her tan callused feet are blistered were the strap rubs. Her dress, light olive drab linen, cascades down to her feet. Her dark brown curly hair lightens to auburn at the ends from exposure to the sun. Her face is oval, tan and her Roman nose freckled. Eyes that change color from green to gray to blue shine with a distant smile. She doesn’t shave her armpits nor does she concern herself with showers. Nights are spent outside in the woods without a blanket or sleeping bag.
She calls herself God.
God spends her time uniting the cosmos, "Uniting the cosmos is about loving, not doing but being loving, grateful, blessing, accepting and joyful every moment of the now." She has little in material possessions — literally the clothes on her back are all she owns. She doesn’t take food stamps or any of your tax money.
If you walk up and offer to help she will likely respond with, "I have everything I need." God is not a homeless person. She sums up her choice to live outside, "Enlightened beings don’t choose to spend most of their time in boxes."
I have seen her sleeping outside. This is normally too harsh an environment for young women to sleep alone, but God carries herself in such a way that she is safe. After having a few conversations with God, I asked her if I could write an article about her. She agreed to let me walk with God for a day.
The day with God started by waking up at 6 a.m. in the woods. We hiked out of the forest toward downtown. Because we had a ways to go, I suggested hopping on a bus. God doesn’t ride buses nor does she like cars. "The automobile is not one of human kind’s better inventions." So we walked all the way to the Blanchet House.
Well, I consider myself fairly well known on the streets, but God seems to know just about everyone. At least a dozen people stop by the table to say hi to her. God is popular and greets everyone with a warm smile. There are some folks on the street who are so challenged by what goes on in their own mind they overreact to attempts to communicate.
God seems to have a way with these folks. People that have yelled and screamed at me react to God like she was an old friend. God says, "Love is the most important thing, the recognition of our shared connection."
After breakfast, we head to Pioneer Square. God likes to sit by the fountain and meditate. I asked her about techniques of meditating and she replied, "You already know everything you need to know."
God tends to be evasive when asked questions, when I pressed her, she mentioned the vipassana technique, close your eyes, clear your mind and be in the light.
One reoccurring theme for the day was how many people would walk up and greet God. She would meet people’s eyes and hold them saying; "The eyes are the windows to the soul."
Folks would often ask God what she needed she’d reply, "Need is primarily an illusion."
I could not get God to talk in a stream of consciousness; comments came as sound bites. That might have been so I wouldn’t screw up the quotes. After Pioneer Square we walked to the North Portland Library. God wanted to send e-mails. Along the way I worked on getting a philosophy out of God, "This life experience is about bringing personality to reality, not so much about detachment as it is about sublimation. I am not religious, I am spiritual."
Asking why she called herself God she replied, "God is everything and everything is God, my focus is building my awareness and strengthening the connections of everything. I am God and you are God, God is everything. That we are alone is an illusion."
"If you are going to San Jose, you follow the signs to San Jose. Where we are going is bliss and your emotions are the signs along the way. It is the urge to unite with each other mind body and spirit. The physical urge being the lowest form will evolve into recognition that we are already connected. Spiritual growth is building awareness of the connections we already have. We are all apart of the collective consciousness. As one person evolves, so does the collective consciousness and that affects everything around."
All in all, it was a strange and beautiful day. I think God is as sane as anyone is.