a homeless neighbor passed away last night...

Good guy - very intelligent. Nice, polite, and he mainly kept to himself.  He lived in a secluded "tent town" that is fairly tucked away. Nobody really knows exactly where - they keep it hidden so it doesn't get raided. But we know somewhere out there, it exists, just off the rivers bank. Alcohol was his weakness, until last night, when it became the cause of his death. His fellow comrade couldn't wake him up this morning... they'd been homeless together for years.

Another neighbor was sent to the hospital yesterday afternoon. She has several mental health conditions and self medicates  with copious amounts of alcohol. Her intoxication level was at a life threatening point, so we had to send her to the ER.  In her bag we found an giant empty bottle of mouth wash and an empty pint of whiskey.  On a normal day I see her around our family room about five times. I would average that about three of the five times I bump into her a day she is crying... everyday, in our facility, pacing around, red face, streaming tears. I can't fathom the sadness she must carry, the fear that must consume her to such an extent that her body never rests from crying.

Right behind her we took another neighbor to the hospital. If our state had public mental health facilities, she would be committed.  But we don't, so she continues to suffer from severe mental and physical health issues. It seems one is dependent on the other and so in her frail condition she is unable to keep up with her own care.  In a downward cycle of deteriorating health she sits in our family room and has accidental bowl movements. Whatever dignity she once possessed seems lost after the fourth chair has been ruined in less than two weeks.

My inability to sit with such heavy sadness directed me towards investing in a false anger. I went to the basement and lifted weights - hoping the anger would disperse itself through my sweat, but it didn't.  I need to be reminded of something beautiful, something that will remind me of the duality of love. A good friend always snaps his fingers and says with a grin, "Just remember, things change... like that!" So I bench pressed keeping that in mind during all thirty repetitions.

I'm wondering more and more if its not that things around me change, but rather if it is I that change within them.  During lunch yesterday a colleague asked me if I thought things had always been this bad or if time had slowly revealed more to me. After much deliberation, my guess is that things have always been the way they are, but over time I have grown and in my growth have been able to see more.  At first glance those new sights seem overwhelming; but there is hope. There must be hope. I've seen it before... the unmistakable presence of life-giving, restorative, living love. 

And so I will continue and learn to sit in this moment filled with pain because over time, as I grow, I'll trust that my eyes will once again see the hope thats always been present. Eventually, I will change.

-b