Two things that happened yesterday converged in my mind. I learned that there were at least 3,000 homeless people in my hometown, and I began reading the most interesting and unusual book called The Stranger in the Woods.
The book is the story of a man who willingly pulls himself off the grid and lives hermit-like for 27 years. Before he was discovered and subsequently arrested for burglary (he stole food and supplies from cabins and institutional camps) he had no contact with any other humans.
These two lifestyles have much in common, but their differences are what resonates even more loudly. They both live in the margins...on the edges...until discovered. The homeless in my area seem to be always on the move, while the hermit in the woods of Maine is able to stay put for decades. Both are dependent on the world around them for basic necessities.
I suspect the emotional conscience of the homeless is more complex because they are visible. They are also inhibited by their addiction to drugs, alcohol, or other substances, leaving their mental competency in doubt.
Choosing to move into a heavily wooded area and survive on raids that yield food, basic supplies, and anything else that might make tent camping more comfortable takes the ability to function without hearing another human voice. It doesn't mean losing all contact with all things human if you can score a radio and some batteries.
Imagine keeping up with the news, but not being able to discuss any of it with anyone. What is lost and what is gained? What does that say about human nature?
Sometimes I think that all of us imagine "living rough" at one time or another. We might even think about where we would go if we had to spend a night out on the streets. Which doorways, or trees, or tiny non-visible spaces seem most inviting? Where are their heat sources or potential meals?
I actually think this is a good exercise to pursue. I recall that some of the training for being a Vista Volunteer that I experienced years ago involved what they called "dropoff" experiences. People would be taken to bus stations at late hours and asked to observe while spending the night there.
It certainly heightens the senses.
If it's true that most of us are only a paycheck or two from homelessness, then we'd do well to keep our eyes open. Ironically, being on your own in the hostile environs of a major city just might lead one to the desire to be completely alone. Certainty is at a premium in that state; choices can be simple. Images of those living in the shadows tend to be romanticized and heavily male. Neither are valid, I' sure.
The book is the story of a man who willingly pulls himself off the grid and lives hermit-like for 27 years. Before he was discovered and subsequently arrested for burglary (he stole food and supplies from cabins and institutional camps) he had no contact with any other humans.
These two lifestyles have much in common, but their differences are what resonates even more loudly. They both live in the margins...on the edges...until discovered. The homeless in my area seem to be always on the move, while the hermit in the woods of Maine is able to stay put for decades. Both are dependent on the world around them for basic necessities.
I suspect the emotional conscience of the homeless is more complex because they are visible. They are also inhibited by their addiction to drugs, alcohol, or other substances, leaving their mental competency in doubt.
Choosing to move into a heavily wooded area and survive on raids that yield food, basic supplies, and anything else that might make tent camping more comfortable takes the ability to function without hearing another human voice. It doesn't mean losing all contact with all things human if you can score a radio and some batteries.
Imagine keeping up with the news, but not being able to discuss any of it with anyone. What is lost and what is gained? What does that say about human nature?
Sometimes I think that all of us imagine "living rough" at one time or another. We might even think about where we would go if we had to spend a night out on the streets. Which doorways, or trees, or tiny non-visible spaces seem most inviting? Where are their heat sources or potential meals?
I actually think this is a good exercise to pursue. I recall that some of the training for being a Vista Volunteer that I experienced years ago involved what they called "dropoff" experiences. People would be taken to bus stations at late hours and asked to observe while spending the night there.
It certainly heightens the senses.
If it's true that most of us are only a paycheck or two from homelessness, then we'd do well to keep our eyes open. Ironically, being on your own in the hostile environs of a major city just might lead one to the desire to be completely alone. Certainty is at a premium in that state; choices can be simple. Images of those living in the shadows tend to be romanticized and heavily male. Neither are valid, I' sure.
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