Giving Back on Thanksgiving ...a journal entry... republished

"Were it not for hope, the heart would break."~Scottish proverb





Please reach out to those less fortunate...there are countless “homeless families”…

Some thoughts about spending Thanksgiving with the homeless …A hot meal truly is the beginning of hope... Love is a purpose for being...

On this morning after, I’m walking off balance, on a bit of an emotional high wire. There has been an emotional roller coaster ride going on for about 365 days now, that has come full circle. It started out with an unexpected repressed memory flushing to the surface that more or less knocked me off the rails. If dealing with that wasn't enough I was back on a very emotional journey back to a rescue mission I had visited on Sunday’s with my Sunday school youth group much earlier in my life. I had been there for other reasons too. I've been back there several years in a row but this year was so much more emotional than past years. There seems to be so many more homeless people and the families with children?...Well it just breaks my heart. 

 I don’t want this to be triggering for anyone that reads but I would still wish to share a little because it may encourage someone else to get involved and lend a helping hand. I have to be honest there are other safer ways to help. There are many charities out there, my favorites include animal shelters, this mission for the homeless and Hospice. Don’t read on if you are triggered by a highly sensitive, emotional description of experiences at a homeless mission at Thanksgiving. There just is no other way to tell it because it is what is real…


Here is a snippet of what went on from my journaling:

Slept poorly as yesterday’s food prep time, and some clothes and blanket sorting, was reason for some soul stirring and pots and pans stirring too. The best or worst part is that because of the storms last week more stuff was needed. So I helped with the coats and hygiene sundries first. Right out of the gate while helping organize the messed up piles of used clothing while, street people sorted through them, I interacted with 2 different homeless men and one women, likely a street walker. I’m not being judgmental here; I want to be honest and realistic of the painful parts of the real world that were experienced at this intersection of destiny.

The soft spoken woman politely thanked me for a soft warm blanket and a coat for her little girl. I also gave her a personal hygiene packet full of women stuff as well as many pamphlets and brochures about outreach programs.

Back to the men whom I feared I'd have more difficulty reaching out to. Not at all, after the first sentence from one of them. He asked me if I thought a coat he had in his hands would fit him and would it be warm? I said “yes, my friend... I knew that because that coat was formally mine, I just brought it here a moment ago”...There was no time for warm ups or stretching just instant reality of the street…The tears flowed from these two eyes and his glowed back in return. Next he pulled a filthy handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to hand it to me to wipe my eyes...I quickly snorted and wiped away the tears with my sleeve. I then walked outside by a line that was waiting to get in...Anxiety hit me and I thought of running. I walked a block away with tears flooding my eyes and then turned around 180 degrees, back to my commitment. You see, I realize I needed them more than they need me.

The other man was not so chatty, so I spoke to him but we did not look into each others eyes. He either saw or felt what had just happened so it was pretty quiet and awkward. I dug in and found another outdoor coat I had bought the other day at Goodwill for 1/2 price and asked him to try it. It fit well enough; it was warm and a bonus...water proof! He couldn't say much but after I gave him the same packet as the others, well the one for men, he asked me “Will you be here tomorrow, early?”. I said yes and that maybe I would watch for him and try to serve him dinner at 10 am by the way...Knowing full well there would be so many people that it could be nearly impossible to meet again.

This was a very personal experience...Enough life went on in 2 days to write a book...At this moment I am emotionally exhausted. An Empath feels all raw emotion as if it were his own. Being an Empath is not a form of mental disorder...It can cause overwhelming social anxiety which no one I have ever met has really understood. But this entry is not about that...It is written to advocate for the homeless...Please, please understand how much it means to give what you can...love is all there is...


“ I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget who you are, but people will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Walter Winchell

The wooden chair on Mt. Pleasant street

The Wooden Chair on Mt Pleasant Street

the chair sat innocently alone on the linoleum
red and white square tile kitchen floor .
the kitchen dish towels that bound innocence, hands and feet ,
were draped across its cushionless cold wooden back and seat.
the indelible leather belt with metal buckle
still aches from the image scared on the heart's walls .

never asking why anymore , age has taught a hard lesson learned ;
understanding that everything is not meant to be understood, yet
trying to accept that which shall remain eternally unchanged .
melancholia triggered by the passing calendar page flips ,
reminded each moment can be gone in a single heartbeat

flashbacks cause a twitching tick in eyes corner ;
tears begin to stream down onto the chill of memories floor
the conscious moment slipping away in moments like these ;
the strength of age , the promise that time's seasoning heals ,
cannot help grasp the edge to stop the slide
a fleeting consciousness fades as the dark scene's pages
play back the black and blue secrets of an old noir home movie.

the looks from the corner of eyes
are felt like unintended persecution .
the whisperers heard under muted breaths  ,
infinitely haunt for a lifetime ;

those questions suspected but never asked ,
the questions answered that were never suspected .
there are reasons this now is and was not the plan
and yet thankful to be mostly whole ...

notes:

... Everything in life you think you've figured out ,
just reveals another path to another set of questions ,
understand this moment has come to just write what you feel ; leaving written traces of past now’s within the words , is a life choice ...

© November ... 2013   Harlon Rivers

Beclouded Pathways to Healing

Anxiety drips from the sky onto the dusty twisted pathway
Large raindrops from an ominous swellen thunder cloud hover ,
compassionately abstaining the perfect storm's wrath
The pathway is distinct and finite and yet temptation
to turn back overwhelms when fear and doubt
intersect with conscious reasoning

The sky surrenders droplets ,
crying as each teardrop spills over nimbus ,
plummets , splashing as a small cloud of dust releases
its puff of haziness arising from mother earth’s grasp ;
beclouding the tentative vision of what lies ahead
on this long and uncertain journey

Each step forward is accompanied by an unsettling
sense of trepidation of the familiar and unfamiliar
Faith in belief in unseen miracles ,
must overcome  the murkiness of muddled doubt ,
for the next step to be mindfully taken

The heart and soul are strong but the flesh is weak
Conventional wisdom predicates
that the human form is flawed, born to fail
Unseen remnants course with the winds of time
scatter like waning traces of dust and ashes
strewn infinitely about the universe

An unfinished life must discover
the strength of will to thrive
when adversity enshrouds direction
Just when succumbing seems imminent ,
inner faith and hope must be embraced at all cost

It is said; “It’s darkest before the dawn”
As our soul journeys ,
the aurora of spirit from within
manifests strength and courage from uncertainty ,
illuminating understanding
that life’s purpose is incomplete

Each step reluctantly taken transcends doubt ,
yet each step is taken in a leap of faith
There has not been growth in this life
without paying the price
Enduring sufferance
cultivates understanding , vigor, valor

Muse of thought is found in knowing
the Bald Eagle adorns a naturally healed broken wing
Its feral spirit could not soar above , yet again ,
without enduring pain and suffering steadfastly
through the trials and tribulations of existence ,
while universal energy
holistically mended her broken wing

The Bald Eagle’s splendor soars over
the shroud of the dusty shadowed trail below
The dust garnishing the melancholia sky
shall one day be lucid at last ;
glistening with a vibrant blue azure
adorning the sunny radiant heavens perpetuity …

authors notes:

"The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step " ...
When we know we need to do something imperative
for our personal well-being and yet the angst of apprehension,
trepidation of the unknown , the ghost of inherent genetics
can become daunting and overwhelming .

Then there is this phenomena nowadays I call " medical limbo"
Anxiety of the unknown while you are just a number on a file

.. a desiderata for needed fortitude ...

         11/15/2013       ... Déjà vu            Harlon Rivers