I think I'm happy, maybe. Can that be true? Is it possible? I'm not wearing a billowing Hawaiian shirt and sipping iced tea on the greenbelts of Arizona. I'm just a twenty-four year old goofball. JP Morland said happiness is a state of mind, not a temporary feeling you get from buying a new TV. Imagine the nicest hippie you know. Now take away all the drugs, tie-die, and toe stench and you've got me. I can't explain it. Sure, I've got problems. I've got truckloads of issues! Ask anyone. Knowing that despite all of that, I can still get through this dastardly state of affairs called life and be better for it, that's happiness.
I'm living in a car and bored to death at work with barely enough time in the evenings to do the things I want, but hey, that's life. I've got awesome friends, great health, and plenty of money to get by. What more could I ask for? Did I mention I have awesome friends? One of the biggest surprises to me during this whole expedition is how accepting, generous, and hospitable my friends have been. I honestly feel bad accepting their kindness sometimes because I know I can't return the favor in the same way, at least not until after July 14th. "Hey, come over to my house next time!" NOT! I don't have one. I've got a stack of IOU's taller than Jim Carey's character on Dumb and Dumber. I guess it's a little taste of God's grace here on earth.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Where Am I?
Anxious, itchy, antsy. Legs on the verge of collapse, mind on the brink of rage. Let's go. What's next? Why are we waiting around? I want to get out of here!
Have you ever felt like you can't wait to get to a destination, then upon arrival, you count the seconds until you're on your way back home? All the juicy goodness of the event is sucked dry by the unexplained magnetic pull of your humble abode.
Well, that never happens when you're HOMELESS!! One of the greatest unforeseen fringe benefits of living in a car is a state of mind I like to call MMT, or "Meandering Migrant Theory." It can be summarized by one phrase I often repeat to friends when we're out and about, "Wherever I am, I am." That's it. Too simple? No, it's groundbreaking if you stop to think about it. In practice, MMT is a release from all the thoughts that rack our brains when we're trying to enjoy our time away from home. I might not even know my conscious is battling a slew of comparisons and creating defense responses to that "magnetic pull" I spoke of earlier. In fact, I might be thinking that the beach is too hot, the coffee shop is crowded, or my friend's house wreaks. In comparison to my former sultry shelter, these things may all be true. However, if I take a step back and think about it, what does it matter? I am where I am and I'm experiencing life in that place with all of it's goods and bads. I'm far more relaxed than I've ever been. In truth, I can say that my time spent out is monster-high quality. Am I making sense at all? It's such a hard concept to explain, but at the same time I feel that a lot of people have already attained this state of mind. It took being homeless to get the wheels rolling for me. I couldn't have predicted that.
Have you ever felt like you can't wait to get to a destination, then upon arrival, you count the seconds until you're on your way back home? All the juicy goodness of the event is sucked dry by the unexplained magnetic pull of your humble abode.
Well, that never happens when you're HOMELESS!! One of the greatest unforeseen fringe benefits of living in a car is a state of mind I like to call MMT, or "Meandering Migrant Theory." It can be summarized by one phrase I often repeat to friends when we're out and about, "Wherever I am, I am." That's it. Too simple? No, it's groundbreaking if you stop to think about it. In practice, MMT is a release from all the thoughts that rack our brains when we're trying to enjoy our time away from home. I might not even know my conscious is battling a slew of comparisons and creating defense responses to that "magnetic pull" I spoke of earlier. In fact, I might be thinking that the beach is too hot, the coffee shop is crowded, or my friend's house wreaks. In comparison to my former sultry shelter, these things may all be true. However, if I take a step back and think about it, what does it matter? I am where I am and I'm experiencing life in that place with all of it's goods and bads. I'm far more relaxed than I've ever been. In truth, I can say that my time spent out is monster-high quality. Am I making sense at all? It's such a hard concept to explain, but at the same time I feel that a lot of people have already attained this state of mind. It took being homeless to get the wheels rolling for me. I couldn't have predicted that.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Stepping Onto Escalators
Wait for it, the grooved metal stair emerges past the rubber lip. Lunging forward, you extend your leg and drop your foot as the stair rises to meet it.
Suddenly the acceleration hits you and your unstable body compensates instinctively. You're really moving now, up and onward.
One month ago when I started this experiment, I could not, through any efforts of my own, get things rolling. There was so much I wanted to do and experience, but an invisible wall blocked my path. It's hard to explain and even a mystery to me, but every effort on my part to accomplish the things I wanted was utterly cluster-fugged.
Now, as I take a step back and observe my life, I wonder why I didn't take my own advice I gave to a friend a long time ago. It's not an original thought. In fact, I've heard it said many times since. Put simply, you have to move in order to get things moving. Sitting and waiting patiently can only take you so far. In some cases, even with a ton of prayer, you'll still be just as confused as to what to do as when you started.
For me, the initial step was to trust that my decision to challenge social norms and depend on God was valid. The only way to accomplish this was to start my vagabond experience. Suddenly, things started happening. A new church that my friend recommended needed my help Sunday mornings, something I had been trying to do for months to no avail. I finally got matched up with a kid in need through the Big Brother Big Sister program. Also, I became a part of a new biblestudy full of energetic, passionate people, each with their own unique life experience. My boredom factor has dropped considerably. I actually don't have enough time now! New friends are popping up in all of the above activities. Every night I'm spending time with someone, which more than fulfills the last phase of my RFI goal, investing in relationships. I can honestly say that before I moved out onto the streets, I didn't know what I was missing. My quality of life has not decreased as I've spent night after night huddled beneath the tin roof of my 4runner, Shadow. On the contrary, I've been more excited about life than my first joyful year of college. I'm experiencing incredible blessings everyday.
Suddenly the acceleration hits you and your unstable body compensates instinctively. You're really moving now, up and onward.One month ago when I started this experiment, I could not, through any efforts of my own, get things rolling. There was so much I wanted to do and experience, but an invisible wall blocked my path. It's hard to explain and even a mystery to me, but every effort on my part to accomplish the things I wanted was utterly cluster-fugged.
Now, as I take a step back and observe my life, I wonder why I didn't take my own advice I gave to a friend a long time ago. It's not an original thought. In fact, I've heard it said many times since. Put simply, you have to move in order to get things moving. Sitting and waiting patiently can only take you so far. In some cases, even with a ton of prayer, you'll still be just as confused as to what to do as when you started.
For me, the initial step was to trust that my decision to challenge social norms and depend on God was valid. The only way to accomplish this was to start my vagabond experience. Suddenly, things started happening. A new church that my friend recommended needed my help Sunday mornings, something I had been trying to do for months to no avail. I finally got matched up with a kid in need through the Big Brother Big Sister program. Also, I became a part of a new biblestudy full of energetic, passionate people, each with their own unique life experience. My boredom factor has dropped considerably. I actually don't have enough time now! New friends are popping up in all of the above activities. Every night I'm spending time with someone, which more than fulfills the last phase of my RFI goal, investing in relationships. I can honestly say that before I moved out onto the streets, I didn't know what I was missing. My quality of life has not decreased as I've spent night after night huddled beneath the tin roof of my 4runner, Shadow. On the contrary, I've been more excited about life than my first joyful year of college. I'm experiencing incredible blessings everyday.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
A New Map
Huddled beneath a molehill of frumpy cotton comforters, I inhale a deep breath of frosty cool air. It stings my nostrils and dries out the delicate tissue that lines my throat. As if my body isn't already screaming it in protest, I think to myself, "It's a bit chilly tonight!"
The cold, the hassle of constant moving, the denial of comfort. All good reasons people have brought to my attention as if trying to convince me that what I am doing makes absolutely no sense. Don't they see? That's the point. To experience another side of life, to see things, to feel emotions and fears that don't ever come close to an everyday jaunt in suburbia. Create your own adventure. Remember those books? That's exactly what I'm doing, but instead of being limited to going left or right, I'm choosing to walk straight off the map! My fingertip traces the edge of the crinkled papyrus as I stare in deep concentration at the routes delicately inked out before me. What's that, my finger stops. A ridge, a flap, an unglued corner. Digging a nail into the crease, I slit the edge in two. There's just enough room to slip my fingers in and tear the map into two sheets. A plume of dust induces a quick cough as bits of dried glue rain down like glitter to my feet. Examining the second and once hidden sheet reveals an intriguing truth: there is more to this map of life than I once thought. A whole new path of discovery is laid out before me. I'm ready to start.
The cold, the hassle of constant moving, the denial of comfort. All good reasons people have brought to my attention as if trying to convince me that what I am doing makes absolutely no sense. Don't they see? That's the point. To experience another side of life, to see things, to feel emotions and fears that don't ever come close to an everyday jaunt in suburbia. Create your own adventure. Remember those books? That's exactly what I'm doing, but instead of being limited to going left or right, I'm choosing to walk straight off the map! My fingertip traces the edge of the crinkled papyrus as I stare in deep concentration at the routes delicately inked out before me. What's that, my finger stops. A ridge, a flap, an unglued corner. Digging a nail into the crease, I slit the edge in two. There's just enough room to slip my fingers in and tear the map into two sheets. A plume of dust induces a quick cough as bits of dried glue rain down like glitter to my feet. Examining the second and once hidden sheet reveals an intriguing truth: there is more to this map of life than I once thought. A whole new path of discovery is laid out before me. I'm ready to start.
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