Thursday, April 25, 2013

One day before being homeless


Some bags of clothing are packed and ready to go, the rest of my earthly belongings waits for a pickup in a garage. I'm not looking forward to the uncomfortable back seat of my car, yet it is the only 'home' I can be certain of until I find someone giving me shelter.

I didn't really feel at home in the place I'm leaving tomorrow. How did it all begin to fall apart? When I arrived, there was still a big recliner in front of the entrance, forcing anyone willing to enter through a narrow gap. It wasn't as straight-forward to remove this obstacle, and probably the last obstacle I managed to remove collaboratively with my house mate.

I could have gotten used to the mixture of things - spices spread over various cabinets, glue and packaging in the fridge, tools in the utensil drawer, or bread in the freezer. What made my life tricky was the flux in things used on a regular basis - having found a useful item in a specific place never warranted to find it there again.

While I got 'my' room, I had to share it with someone else's belongings. If space isn't abundant, donating half of the hanging space in the wardrobe to someone not really wanting to get their stuff back, didn't make me feel comfortable at all. Especially as this someone turned out to be more nosey than I expected. 

As it didn't really unpacked my things, getting ready to leave was easier than ever before. I have no idea whether I can make use of the things I want to use and how long they can remain in the damp, insecure garage, but I can't really care much.

On the one hand, there's all these things, tools, memorabilia, books, and on other hand there's my sanity. It's the second time I chose to live out of convenience with someone not wanting to live with me. I got seriously depressed after the first time, and I see similar things emerging now.

What's the pattern here? Living with someone having problems with their life, but no willingness to change. Offering help, without it being requested. However, I know now that I can facilitate change in people willing to change, which adds a different kind of frustration to the situation.

Nevertheless, I have more urgent things to care about. I haven't heard back from the guy that rear-ended my car, I still have no idea when I will have a space as shelter again, I'm running out of money, and haven't figured out how to earn some money while being a nomad.

It's hard to maintain equanimity when facing a situation where elementary needs are no longer met. I know that my situation could be much worse, yet that thought doesn't spend much solace. I can only trust that I'm an arrow being pulled back, before I get released with full force, right onto the target.

I'm a refugee from a country that has given up its sovereignty to an unelected banking consortium, with no idea of individual freedom left or even promised. But as hardly anyone on this continent cares, people react rather hostile to the knowledge of my 'legal' situation.

I leaned out of the window, and now need to learn to fly so that I don't just plummet  to the ground. Having no bed for tomorrow, and hardly anyone whose hospitality I want to stretch, that doesn't feel too comforting. It was okay to spend a night or two in a car before, but it's not really a practical way for something that deserves the name home. My comfort zone of having shelter is gone.

As my car is pretty wrecked, and as there are some phoney laws prohibiting sleeping in a car, I guess I'll have to move around a lot. Which contradicts my dislike for driving, especially for no good reason. Instead of firmly establishing myself in a community, any community, I now have to fend for myself on a daily basis for the essentials. 

Only if I find a new place to live, shared with others, I will find out what lessons I could have learned from this crazy times in Frankston. It's easy to drop even lower - so far I'm just homeless, not hungry, with some money to feed myself and for petrol. Yet having no home isn't too ideal to do my work, or any odd job for that matter.

I learned to give nourishment to the souls of others, and I truly enjoy doing so. As yet, this hasn't me provided with a livelihood. My own soul is yearning for healing, and I know I can heal myself by doing my work…. which means I need to work enough to sustain myself.

Don't worry, be happy. I expected the silver lining for so long, but I didn't encounter much of it in the last few years. And I got tired of the misperception of being alone in this challenge… I totally want to join some collective to go through life till its over. Don't worry, be happy.

So what's next? The big unknown. Total trust in universe. Sink or swim. After lots of domestic drama it's time for comedy. Happiness begins within, although the environment helps a lot to maintain it. I'm balancing a cliff face, with desperation lurking beyond me...

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Midweek blues


O what a day
I'd like to say hooray,
but I don't know why
I feel I need to cry.

But the tears won't flow,
as I know I have to go,
I just don't know where,
and I can't stop to care.

I'm in a prison of some kind,
most likely of my mind,
it seems like a battlefield
I'm wandering without a shield.

Where's all the magic,
my life seems so tragic.


Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Just above rock bottom

While looking for the universal flow,
I hit an entirely absolute low.
My mind is racing, my muscles shaking,
I arrived at a point of breaking.

I wish I knew some magic trick
to bring back peace and love
yet I feel way too sick
to trust in help from above.

While the world keeps spinning
I can only dream of winning
back my trust in community.

While the birds are singing
my ears keep ringing,
waiting for a new opportunity.