Life Is Like A Boat *And If We Don’t Row Together* We’re Not Going Anywhere
In these difficult pandemic times, it was easy to feel trapped and isolated from what was happening to others. In reality, we were all looking for a way to sustain and protect our homes and ourselves from collapsing. All social operating systems were shaken until the columns that support the nations were cracked. No one escaped the effects of this calamity.
We trusted that our government would find a solution not only national but also global. They put all the science masterminds together to develop an antidote. The most logical answer to stop the chain reaction of the virus was the vaccine. From there, we started with something to defend ourselves.
However, looking into the depths of society, one day, when I went out in search of my needs, the streets were devastated in fear. All I found on the empty streets were wanderers asking me for alms or cigarettes. The homeless community seems not to care what was happening in the entire world; they only care about feeding their addictions.
The city reduced shelters capacities to a minimum, protecting the guests from contagion. Nevertheless, when I got to the closest CVS, I came across some homeless people I knew with whom I shared the abandoned life I had in the past. I always carry single dollars to spare, but not before giving them a few words of encouragement and hope.
It is somewhat challenging to try to talk to them or make them understand the seriousness of their situation — even for me — since they own the street microphone. There is nothing you want to tell them that they already know. They sometimes impress me with their anecdotes from the past — from war stories to cowboy adventures.
All I had left was to fall into their net and give them a few bucks. I believe that these individuals would be very successful as public speakers. And that reminds me of something I recently learned about how to help the homeless from their perspective — at least to know the keywords that will enlighten them.
When you counsel someone, you should appear to be reminding him of something he had forgotten, not of the light he was unable to see. — Baltasar Gracian on The Art of Worldly Wisdom
That gave me a great idea of what I could say to them since I also lived the nightmare of being homeless. I can intertwine counseling studies with those of having lived the experience raw.
On my way to recovery, I had to fight with a sober mind, the regrets of my mistakes, and the people I hurt. Self-forgiveness is the perfect antidote to that kind of mental virus. I was never a bad person; I just fell into the trap of bad behaviors (addictions.)
Someone approached me, making a weird singing sound (i jiii jiii, Young man!) and spun around on tiptoe. I kind of recognized a Michael Jackson stamp, and he gave me a big toothless smile — It really made my day!
I asked him, smiling too, handling a few dollars; where did your happiness come from? It was almost authentic because, deep down, I believed it was just a mask hiding its reality. He graciously pushed me aside and told me an unforgivable anecdote.
On a sunny morning, a person woke up at his home and stretched out his arms. As he yawned, a strange noise came through his window.
He looked out and noticed that the noise came from the dumpsters. A homeless person peered through the garbage, looking for empty bottles and recycling cans.
The person from his window looked to the sky and gave a grateful sigh. Then he said;
“Thank God I have a place to live and food on my table, and I’m not struggling like that poor homeless wretch.”
Suddenly, a loud sound of an ambulance siren cut through the air, rushing down the avenue. It was taking someone to the hospital.
And the homeless *sighed* and said;
“Thank God I’m not like that person inside the ambulance they are taking to the hospital. That poor person is worse than me!”
Inside the ambulance, they carried a patient fighting for his life, and when they got to the hospital, they took him straight into the emergency room. In the hallway, he noticed that another patient was taken slowly in the opposite direction. He was covered in a plastic blanket, a sign that he was already dead.
And the sick man *sigh* and said;
“Thank God I’m not like that poor dead man they carry there. He really is worse than me.”
And now, the dead man they had wrapped in the plastic blanket could not give thanks for anything. He was already dead!
The homeless person who was telling me the anecdote put his hand on my shoulder and said; as long as you are alive, you’ll have a chance to rebuild your life. Thank God for that! I felt a lump in my throat, and I continued on my way, pondering his words.
There are many things to be thankful for in life, and one of them, I learned from “a grateful homeless man.”
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