“I just can’t self regulate my body temperature”, she says vapidly as she walks right past the best part of this place. And then again. They walk and talk and stroll and gossip and pretend to be sightseeing and looking, but they don’t even notice. There is life and vitality and energy and wanton pursuance of better things. There are people crafting and living and being and being walked right past because of their clothes and hygiene. They’re judged and laughed about as they say “Merry Christmas” to people who don’t even acknowledge them. Savannah has some of the most gentle and kindhearted homeless people I have ever met. And i’ve met a lot.
Benjamin suggested I talk to Charity as we were finishing our talk. Benjamin was a stout and mannered gentleman who makes roses out of palm and sells them. He’s been waiting for his housing to be remodeled and is bouncing shelters with his partner. It’s a strain on their relationship and he’s ready to just go back to being instead of existing. Sitting here with him, as the people walk by, existing, it’s hard for us not to mention and discuss their inability to see and know and understand what it is they’re a part of. And they have no interest in learning/escaping. Talking with someone who knows what I’m talking about, sees it, knows, feels, and lives in it, soothes my soul. Every time.
As I approached Charity she was sitting in her chair making crosses from palm. No response from everyone doesn’t stop her from saying “Merry Christmas” to everyone ignoring her. Her two gorgeous dogs obediently perched at either side of her. I had a bag of dog treats I carried, and after sometime, when we were comfortable with each other, I gave it to her. I softly said her name as I walked up. I’ve learned not to approach someone who has their senses heightened all the time. Those kinds of lessons, for me, not only are necessary, but awful to learn. And awful for whoever was the unfortunate teacher, but that’s how we all learn. I had learned that in my life, though, so Charity wasn’t startled and nobody pulled a gun on me this time. Thank god for necessary lessons.
I spoke with some more people as I made my way down the red, uneven and chipped, brick walkway. The river on the right and shops shop shops on the left. Shops full of things waiting to be donated or left in a bag in the truck for weeks waiting to be donated. Or parted ways with, at an estate sale. After the person, who ignored the beauty that was here while buying things in shops, dies and their kids just want that shit gone. Either way whatever is being sold in the shops are not things anyone needs, but those wants can outscream the real needs over and over, shop after shop. Hey, whatever helps them ignore the sadness and anger and pain they’re running so fast to beat to their grave. If they just stopped shopping and started connecting, they would all be much happier and so much more fulfilled. “Merry Christmas.”
