I was a little manic several springs back on the streets of
a small Texas town called Mansfield. The police and I had been through several
run-ins, which resulted in me landing in a Fort Worth mental hospital. Being a
ward of the state scared me a bit, because they were in charge of when I got
out. Also, at the point in my life I didn’t trust much of anything or anybody.
Shortly after my arrival they took me to a wing that seemed
to take forever to get to. My imagination was running pretty good; straight
jackets, electric shock that type of thing. When we arrived someone in the
lobby was reading a copy of a book written by the Dalai Lama. I consider myself
a spiritual person and at that point I had read a couple of books by the
Tibetan holy man. Seeing his picture calmed me and reminded me that God’s love
is everywhere and I would get through this.
Back in January, when I saw a billboard saying that the
Dalai Lama would be in Portland, it created some anxiety. First of all, how
would I afford a ticket, and then let’s say I did get to see him, and God’s
ambassador of compassion didn’t care much for my hobo ass. Eventually I checked the website for the
event and saw that I could apply for press pass online, which I went ahead and
did using Street Roots as the organization. Thing is, I didn’t asked Streets
Roots, kind of manipulative, I know, and one of the list of about a thousand
things I am working on improving. Well they scolded me a little bit but said I
could go.
My homeless adventure started about 10 years ago in the
Florida Keys, I was working as a newspaper reporter for a small weekly called
the Islamorada Free Press when a memory surfaced of being molested as a kid by
my judo instructor. I had always remembered part of that night, but this repressed
part was violent and in my mind disgusting. It created some posttraumatic
stress disorder and severe panic attacks. In my mind at times, I was a
9-year-old kid again and this guy was after me. I was a decent reporter and was
able to stop a crooked sewer deal between a local politician and some bigwig
lobbyists, but it caused me a lot of anxiety. I was also a complete ass to work
with, and simply did not feel safe being in one spot where my attacker might
find me again and eventually lost my job and found myself homeless, which
allowed me to drift.
The Dalai Lama speaks, as I imagine Christ spoke, with
authority. It was an environmental conference, and if you are alive you know
that we have been poor stewards of the earth. I attended several events over
two days at the University of Portland and Memorial Coliseum. Typical of His
Holiness, he said little about the environment and focused on trying to get us
to be better people. I like his approach, how can we expect to take care of
nature when we don’t take care of each other? However what he did say really
struck me, “ God created the earth, it too is one of his creations, if you
respect and love God, you must respect the earth and take care of her.”
Christ tells us to love our enemies and I take that
seriously. However, I developed an aggressive sarcastic tongue over the first
40 years of my life and dismantling it hasn’t been easy. Not that I have a lot
of enemies, but on the streets you tend to get your fair share of scorn, and
worse for me, people completely ignoring you when you are trying to talk to
them. I even had my Street Roots badge yanked a couple of times, for giving
people lip. So when the Dalai Lama said, “Do no harm,” which is a beginning
tenant in both Buddhism and Hinduism, I made a vow to double my effort in
reining in my tongue. When you make an oath like that, God will sometimes ask,
“really?”
The next day I was talking to a buddy standing next to my
shopping cart. Every once in a while my shopping cart will set someone off,
they may be have been on the streets themselves or are getting close to landing
there. This guy I had never seen before starts yelling, “fuck you,” at me from
halfway down the street. He keeps yelling it over and over until he is right in
front of me with his middle finger right in my face. I just stood there
smiling, this seemed to irritate him a little, and so he proceeded to stick
that finger straight up my nose. Unfortunately I did not turn the other
nostril. I spun him around; bear hugged him a little, told him to never touch
me again and shoved him on his way. I am not proud of that, but that is what
forgiveness is for, that is also life, we live and learn.
I got another chance later that night. I was laying on my
bag in a door way when this group of kids in a car sees me and start yelling,
“You’re a lazy bum, what a fucking bum,” etc. Well I just laid there feeling
peaceful and smiling at them. Turn the other cheek works, seeing no resistance,
by the time the light turned green the wind had gone out of there and they sped
off.
Tibetan Buddhism teaches that compassion is the desire to
relieve the suffering of another. What does compassion look like? Well
according to the Dalai Lama compassion looks like affection. He used that word
repeatedly throughout the conference and displayed it endlessly.
At the end, the key organizer of
the event, Yangsi Rinpoche, president of Maitripa College here in Portland, was
bowing at the Dalai Lama’s feet, His Holiness was rubbing his head and telling
the audience what a good boy he was and how much he loved him. Yangsi sat there
soaking up the love, just like the rest of us. After that, the Red Hot Chili
Peppers played for about an hour. I have always respected the Peppers while not
being a huge fan; some of their music is too discordant for me, but I do love
several songs, and they played like beasts. There third number was Scar Tissue,
after the opening chords I was crying like a baby, grateful for the healing of
my scars I guess, the shadowy figure from my past has been forgiven and is
loved — by me, at least. I am at peace and happy on the streets. I am also
incredibly grateful to encounter His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, a living
embodiment of Christ’s teachings here on earth.
Hobo John is a Street Roots vendor.
This article appears in 2013-05-24.