This is an old post that reappears as a chapter in my new book, The Impact Revolution.
There aren’t that many homeless here in Perez Zeledon…
not compared to San Jose, anyway.
But there is this one guy.
I first started seeing him walk past the house. He looked more than a little shady.
I mean he appeared to be an able-bodied fellow.
So why was he in such a predicament?
Surely he was “on something.”
One time we had an item mysteriously “stolen” from the house. Actually we had no idea whether it was stolen or not…it just went missing with no explanation.
I was immediately convinced it had to be him.
So I always kept a suspicious and condemning eye out.
Until one day when I actually spoke with him.
Can’t remember the exact circumstances. I believe he was rummaging through the garbage as I was pulling into the carport. And I just decided to speak. I believe he was a little drunk…well, maybe more than a little.
He asked me for some spare change. I complied…reluctantly.
I’m really kind of a softie.
Then he started speaking with me regularly when he passed by. Before he never said a word.
And neither did I.
I started changing my mind about this guy. He actually seemed…
quite nice.
Just the other day I came home from a trip to San Jose and there he was. He noticed that my car was dirty and offered to wash it. I let him and gave him a little money for the favor…
along with what was left of a bottle of flor de caña (he really appreciated that!).
Wait…you gave him alcohol?
Why not…it seemed to make him quite happy.
I believe we’re friends now.
Especially when they are poor, indigent and homeless…
possibly alcohol or drug addicted.
It’s almost natural to condemn them for being that way.
But you don’t know their story…do you?
What if their story was your story?
Could you imagine standing in their shoes?
What really separates you from them?
Money?
Yep, that’s about it…
Maybe life just got too hard and they gave up.
I know I do.
OK I understand what you might be thinking just about now.
The reason I have money is because I work hard…
and maybe if they would do the same, then they could have some too…
maybe they could clean up their act.
Buy things.
Buy a life.
But maybe they just don’t want any part of that.
Maybe this economic delineation that we inflict upon ourselves…
you know the one that tells me that I am better than the other guy on account of material accumulation…
on account of all my shit…
is really an illusion.
Maybe there’s no real difference at all.
We begin to see people…all people…even the dirty, drug addicted ones, sleeping in a cardboard box…
as just people…
the same as us.
Maybe we’ll stop judging like I did.
Maybe we can help.
Make a positive impact on a fellow human.
You know I believe there’s some real merit in allowing the novel idea to pass through your mind…
that there but for the grace of god…
go I.
Last week I launched my Crowdsource Campaign, dubbed Looking for Light in a Dark Tunnel. That’s perhaps too gloomy a metaphor for the state of my life right now. Even though it feels like a “tunnel”, I know it really isn’t at all. There’s plenty of light all around me. I’m surrounded by the natural beauty of Costa Rica and by the unconditional love of friends and family. I am imbued with a strong sense of direction and determination. I’m motivated. I’m taking action. The results will come. The pot will boil.
You see, I’m not failing. I’m simmering.
If you’d consider helping me by turning the heat up a little, please check out my Campaign Widget below.
I’ll be writing about my progress in the coming weeks and months. I hope that my story can be an inspiration that might help you simmer with joy as you patiently wait for your pot to boil.
Check out the rewards section to see my various expressions of gratitude for your gracious gift of light.
image credit: Stephan Geyer via Compfight cc
