Everyday Boy

Third Sunday of Lent

to live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes, to let it go,
to let it go.

Mary Oliver, American poet (1935-2005), In Blackwater Woods

Friday was a difficult work night.  I don't think it hit me until the weekend.  We have a youth who has been in an abusive relationship for a while now, with a man twice her age, and she has been coming back to us time and time again, only to go back to her abuser.  It's been sad and frustrating, especially as she chooses to go back to him again and again.  We fear for her safety and feel powerless, with even the courts and police ineffective in keeping her away from him. I'm trying to do a little more reading to understand the dynamics of abusive relationships.  In this and all other sad and painful stories it has been, as Oliver captures well in her poem, a learning process in caring and letting go.

The performance today at Jazz Vespers was fun and rousing.  Voaclist Sybel Thrasher sang some wonderful renditions of Precious Lord Take My Hand, Summertime, You Got A Friend, and Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay.  It was mentioned that Thomas Dorsey wrote Precious Lord Take My Hand when his wife Nettie died during childbirth, and his child soon after,  making it ever more poignant and meaningful.

World AIDS & Pajama Day

As many of you probably know, it's World AIDS Day today.  Click on the ribbon for the official web for the World's AID Campaign.  International AIDS charity AVERT seems to have a good information page as well for a starting off point.  This is an issue that hits a bit closer to home for me this year, as some of the youth we know have come out about their HIV infections. An interesting non-profit group here in Vancouver that youth have introduced me to is Youthco, which is Canada's only youth driven AIDS society addressing HIV/AIDS and related issues like Hepatitis C.  It seems to be a wonderful organization that empowers youth to be directly involved in the advocacy, education, outreach and support for those for those with HIV/AIDS.

Today we begin our year end fund-raising campaign at the shelter, called 30 days For 30 nights, where we're trying to raise money to fund the running of both our crisis shelter and our longer term transitional residence for the month of December.  It's our busiest time of year both in the number of youth we serve and in the much needed donations we receive.  To kick off the campaign we began our 1st annual Casual Day for Covenant House, where folks in schools and businesses across the city bought stickers at a minimum of $2 each which allowed them the opportunity to dress casual on Thursday instead of the traditional Friday.  Our staff was told to be creative, so my overnight team thought about it, and since we usually dress quite casual on a regular basis, we decided to go one step further and go to work in our pajamas.  It's been fun, although a bit strange, to go to work my flannel pants. Click here for a picture of my overnight team: (L-R) me, Darrick, and Liz with her great lion slippers.

Dwelling In Possiblity

I dwell in Possibility -
A fairer House than Prose -
More numerous of Windows -
Superior - for Doors -

Of Chambers as the Cedars -
Impregnable of Eye -
And for an Everlasting Roof -
The Gambrels of the Sky -

Of Visitors - the fairest -
For Occupation - This -
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise -

Emily Dickinson, American poet (1830-1886)

I escaped to a little greasy spoon diner after work yesterday, had some eggs, sausage and toast, and finally cracked open the book, The Impossible Will Take A Little While. This time to forge past the introduction. Diane Ackerman's essay A Slender Thread, around a call she fields at a suicide hotline, really encouraged me. She writes:

As Emikle Sola once said, some mornings you first have to swallow your toad of disgust before you can get on with the day. We choose to live. But suicidal people have tunnel vision - no other choice seems possible. A counselor's job is to put windows and doors in that tunnel.

Her thoughts struck home, as our shelter encounters many suicidal young people every month. A few of my co-workers have even chased some clients out the door and onto the nearest bridge to pull them to safety. Thankfully, like Ackerman, we do have the opportunity to punch some holes of lights into these tunnels of despair, and on the odd occasion have a chance to hear that some of these youth, at some point, do move beyond their suicidal ideations with some help and counselling. Last night, one youth I had worked with months earlier, who still drops by for food and to talk from time to time, stopped by in a drunken stupor to thank me for helping him find a counsellor who he really connects with. It was a strange encounter, knowing he was still dealing with much pain, but that he was a little farther along since he first came to us, when he was so eager to jump off the nearest bridge.

Another youth I was listening to in the early hours of the day before he skipped off to work was explaining to me what he's been learning from the book 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Chapter 1: Being Proactive. He's a former gang member and drug dealer, who struggles with mental health issues, and who has been really searching for truth ever since I first met him. I think he sees himself as a born again Christian, but he doesn't want to associate himself with any specific denomination. He's teaching me much through his curiosity and explanations. He's been reading a lot of self-help type books, everything from James Redfield's The Celestine Prophesy, to psychology books, to Og Mandino who wrote The Greatest Salesman. This morning he was describing what being proactive meant to him, and he spoke of a way of being unencumbered by negative outside influences. He went on to talk about a Jewish psychologist which turned out to be Viktor Frankl. It reminded me of these words I read a long time ago:

We who lived, in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.

It was good to be reminded of such things by a youth who has overcome much and embodies Frankl's words in many different ways. I've always wondered what makes everyone wake up each morning, to face their daily struggles. I guess it has to do with this deep well of choice we have and the everyday opportunity we have, as Dickens writes, to dwell in possiblity.

Breathe In Suffering, Breathe Out Compassion

There is possibility if there is compassion.
- From the documentary Scared Sacred.

I went to a very interesting training session yesterday on helping sexually exploited youth exit the sex trade.  It was a full day session conducted by a former prostitute, with lots of dialog and useful information.  It was heart-breaking hearing some of the sobering details surrounding the abuse that occurs, and how young some of the boys (14-16) and girls (13) are when they first enter the sex trade.  It's been a newfound awareness for me this past year, hearing more and more about the immensity of the global sex trade, which I think has only recently been gaining much public awareness.  I watched a well-made documentary this past week on CBC, called Sex Slaves.  There's a good article in the Globe & Mail from this past Monday on the documentary.

Last night I was able to look into a couple of recommendations from Beyond Magazine's last issue Possible Worlds to help buoy my spirit after such a heavy-issue laden workshop.  I gladly found the book The Impossible Will Take A Little While at a bookstore, and I took in the documentary Scared Sacred at the nearby theater.  The documentary was quite sad and slow to begin with, so I thought straight off that I might have been better off going with a comedy or something, but it ended up giving me a wonderful perspective on both suffering and goodness in the tragic events of the world.

I loved the presence of birds throughout the documentary, which to me seemed to symbolize an ever-present peace or freedom in the chaos.  I loved the voices of a young boy and a Jewish man each singing their religious songs with such purity and depth, along with the images and sounds of RAWA protesting in Afghanistan.  And I loved the individual stories and insights throughout: Assist the right of the expendable to live; If (you) want to become like a Sufi (you) must become like the land - (you) must give everything; Strip away layers of callousness to see each face as (your) own.  Lot's of layers there.  I encourage you to read Doug Cumming's article in Beyond for a overview on the documentary.

I was also reminded of the word com-passion: to suffer with.  Scared Sacred reminded me of the importance of vulnerability.  To open our hearts to those who are suffering.  To be their voice, to help them speak or sit in their experience - and from there something new does grow.  It was quite apparent in the woman who was facilitating our workshop today who was able to leave prostitution after much pain and struggle.  She was able to speak her story with much grace and dignity.  And the beautiful thing about the exit plan she presented was the collective community effort involved in helping young men and woman leave the sex trade.  Not through one, but through many.  Maybe not overnight, but hope for one day.  When we face the darkness, we can see something new breakthrough.

Out From Under April Showers

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm going to learn to love without fear

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find...

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be

Born, from Over The Rhine's album Drunkard's Prayer (2005).

It's been difficult for me to write words this past month, although I've experienced much and have wanted to share much.  The food, drink and laugther that have flowed over tables (for which I am always grateful) have helped ease the sense of emotional tiredness the past three weeks.  My tiredness has mostly to do with what work brings, but also in looking ahead and trying to figure out the direction I want to take in life come Fall.  I still have so many questions, and feel as though there will be difficult answers ahead.  The sun broke out this past week from what has seemed like a long string of cloudy and rainy days - or perhaps it's more my sense of comng up from the bottom of some doubts and sadness the past little while.  I've had to come to terms again with my own limitations - having to let go of having to do so much or invest myself so much in the lives of the youth that I create an unhealthy space for me to live in.  I was reminded of the Zen saying: No seed ever sees the flower, and so I am learning again how to nurture a seed, and not crack it open.

I watched Angels In America which I found sad, bizarre and funny.  it really made me think about how we hold the idea of love up, but fail to live it in the day to day.  So to with Herman Hesse's book Siddhartha, which I just finished reading.  Seeking and working out the ideals of life in the day to day.  Not escaping the ordinary through excercises of asceticism or abandonments into illusions of money or pleasure - but in listening to the world around us: nature, people, the inner voice of love that speaks Om (unity, perfection, love).  Waking up, the commute, work, cooking, cleaning, play.  I've needed to remind myself of the contemplative question: Where is God in this before me?

We bid farewell to our housemates Josh with a party one Friday night and a little ceremony the next morning.  It was also a time to officially welcome our newest housemate Leroy here.  Change.  Comings and goings.  Both have been such a big part of community and work this past year.  Perhaps my low envergy this past month has to do with shedding the winter blahs from my body, and coming to terms with the changes that need to happen both within and without; the groan of seeds within me trying to push through to new life... we're going to need to be a little more mindful of the plants in our house as Josh is usually the one taking care of them.  I think it's a good indication for four bachelors that we have at least a few plants and flowers blooming in our house.

There have been a few trips this past month.  Leroy and I took a youth out to do some dives out near Squamish - as she is hoping to go to school to become a commercial diver.  She was lucky to have found three dive locations over the weekend, the last one we took her to especially unique as she had a chance to explore some shipwrecks.  While she went diving Leroy and I went for brunch at a great little greasy spoon diner just off the highway, and then went bushwacking off a trail sanwhiched between the highway and water.  We decided to leave the well worn path for a little adventure in a tangle of wood.  Here's my best go at some Henry David Thoreau inspired writing:

Swinging around a small pond we came upon the typical rainforest of the west coast, lush green and mossy.  We walked down several openings of forest, down a dirt path overgrown with roots, until we encountered a cliff with a little waterfall trickling down it's shiny sheer face onto a bright green fern flourishing on a ledge.  Further on broken wood stairs dropped down, leading us into a dense valley.  We encounter a large fallen tree trunk blocking our path, making us duck under and examine it's innards on the other side, hollowed out like a pipe with bright green moss puffed up inside.  We continue on into a drier wood encroaching our journey, bare tree limbs clutching at us, twigs snapping beneath each step.  The woods are both alive and dead.  I am always surprised by this beautiful juxtaposition.  We hear a hidden stream gurgling in the silent forest, and follow it until it disappears into the undergrowth, and so we turn up a rock face, over mossy padded stones, and climb up to the tree line to take in a vista view of the mountains and water surrounding us.  We continue on, downwards again, trying to find our way back through branches and brush clawing at our arms and legs.  I slip down a muddy hill backed up with leaves, grabbing for support from a flimsy branch.  We come to another cliff, this time looking down to train tracks below us.  We shimmy our way down along a steep rock incline to the train tracks and follow it down all the way to the highway, trickling waterfalls soaking the cliff face beside us.

It's always good to go back to Nature every now and then.  I finally made it over to Stanely Park - if only for a quick drive through, as well as Queen Eliabeth Park - a bit of a touristy garden centered park, but beautiful nonetheless.  The necessities of Nature still beckon me, so I try to incorporate walking time as prayer time, if only down the city block and in the neighborhood, seemingly sparse of mother Nature but still full of beauty... so slowly but surely I feel like I've begun to turn a corner - with better energy, better awareness, and better rhythms to my days.

Effort is its own reward.

We are here to do,
And through doing to learn;
and through learning to know;
and through knowing to experience wonder;
and through wonder to attain wisdom;
and through wisdom to find simplicity;
and through simplicity to give attention;
and through attention
to see what needs to be done...

Ben Hei Hei in Wisdom of the Jewish Sages by Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro. From Spritual Literacy (353).

Hatha Yoga & Missing Bono

We had a day of team-building and program planning at work today.  We ended up going to a local Radha Yoga Center and eatery - a nice cozy loft space with hardwood floors and red brick walls, about ten minutes away from my house.  It was my first time trying any form of yoga and I ended up enjoying it very much.  We went through an hour session of basic hatha yoga stretches and poses, which were quite meditative and relaxing.  I liked the focus on light, on breath, and on our bodies as centers of energy.  I also found it interesting that the starting pose is based on a mountain - a sense of stillness, and solid groundedness.  I'm going to try to work out a low-cost deal to attend a few sessions each week, with the center being so close and the yoga being an ideal way to be more aware of my body... okay, and the instructor is quite cute too.

Afterwards we had coffee at Blenz in Yaletown, where I just missed seeing Bono.  A few of my co-workers saw him with his security detail a few moments before I arrived.  It's been a popular pastime for folks in Vancouver the past couple of week:  Where's Bono?  We then crossed the street and had lunch and a brainstorm session at a place called Capones.  There's been low moral at work since I've been here, and it's beginning to be addressed with an overall orgnanizational re-focus and affirmation of the good work that's being done.

I'm trying to figure out how to boost morale at work myself, but I'm not a huge cheerleader type, so I'm finding it a bit of a challenge.  I guess in the end it's about nurturing hope and laughter, and keeping things light.  I was grateful to receive an e-mail from my friend Heather, who works as a nurse, and gave me some good tips on how to not burn-out as a front-line worker dealing with sad stories day in and day out.  It's been my biggest challenge the past few months; how to live out advocacy and care without letting the work suck you dry to the bone.

Catching Up Inwardly

For those of us who have considered physical flexibilities to be of import, I bring news from the field... It is my new found experience that in order to get things done, I must be still.  When that is afforded by an imposed restriction (illness, weather, incarceration, generally being grounded), I now believe it is God's way of giving you some true freedom to catch up on what you need to accomplish... inwardly. - Robert Downey Jr., written in letters from jail. Vanity Fair, Aug 2000 (86)

I always liked this quote because they were words of wisdom that came from such an unlikely source... It's been one of those horrible weeks you have every now and then, where there's stress at work, and on top of that you're as sick as a dog.

Coming up to a year into my volunteer commitment, and I think this past week was the hardest one I've had work-wise. There's been a lot of changes within the structure of the organization itself the past couple of months, with program changes and new staff being hired on and experienced staff moving on or switching programs.  I've sensed a lot of malcontent with the many program changes, and just a sense of unease between folks with all the staff movement. And I've also sensed a greater responsibility with work. Being here three months now I feel like I should be up to par, but in many ways I feel like I'm not.

This past week we've had a lot of mental health youth come stay with us, and youth with very difficult attitudes and personality's who can just drive you up the wall. Many of them were very needy, and it drains you trying to address their needs without being sucked into their negative attitudes and energies. Our program is pretty structured so the youth know the boundaries, but they know where to push and test the limits. I'm a terrible disciplinarian so I tend to let things slide a lot, and try to understand where each youth is coming from. I find that a lot of what irks other staff doesn't register with me sometimes, but I'm trying to understand the boundaries and behaviors that we need to keep the youth accountable to.  I'm still trying to figure out how to instill those changes in attitude and energy with the youth, and keep things light and try to keep a sense of humor in it all. It just becomes difficult when from youth to youth you hear them talk about abuse, drugs, and prostitution - it just wears on you. I can certainly understand how many front line workers need therapists themselves at the end of the day.

On top of the heaviness that I felt at work, I caught some sort of flu bug this past week: a sore throat, headache, fever and cold - so I was feeling quite miserable physically. And of course the week that I'm feeling in the dumps is the week where there's non-stop sunlight in Vancouver! The bright spot in the week was the care my housemates showed me, in making me soup and giving me rides into work, and the way my team leader and co-workers covering my butt at work.

The good that's come at the end of such a difficult week has been a better perspective on the purpose of Lent, and my failings so far.  I began this Lent with a view of giving up things on the periphery of life, but I was gratefully reminded by Maggi that fasting requires giving up some of the essentials in order to be more reliant on God.  I've come to meditate on the story of Jesus fasting in the wilderness for forty days; I've come to see it as a place of solitude that I myself have to enter this Lent, to answer the voices that demand my attention, with words that place my trust in the voice of Love - even when that voice may be silent.

Is God truly all-sufficient for me?  Being ground down by work and sickness this past week, and having to give up some essentials by default has been a blessing in disguise, because it's caused me to say that no, God still hasn't been all-sufficient for me.  There are many, many other things besides God - mostly myself - that I rely on.  Thankfully, grace by sometimes painful grace, I find this slowly being remedied...

Dust & Linens

Wonder Dusting Day: Today dust off your furniture and books with the knowledge that you are dealing with very ancient dust. It is possible that some of the dust in your home is 4.6 billion years old!  Each year four million tons of dust from outer space falls on our planet. Rather than considering dusting a drudgery, light a vigil candle in front of your dust cloth and pray a prayer of awe. - Edward Hays, February 17, from A Pilgrims Almanac (34).

I guess I was right last week about the whole dust thing... One of the seeming lesser joys at the shelter is cleaning up rooms of youth who leave us, whether they move on to better things or not.  Sometimes staff is stuck cleaning out rooms, packing up clothes and belongings, and re-making beds and bunk beds.  And like any household chore it can become quite tedious.  This past Friday my co-worker and I chuckled over our chores, and as I was making one of the beds it occurred to me to use the time to pray for the youth leaving, and bless the space and the stay of the next youth coming in.

The Pilgrim's Almanac continues with a reflection on dust, and goes on to quote a Moslem mystic: So long as we are in the dust, we do not see the face of the Beloved.  The rest of the reading was a good reminder, as I've gotten caught up in the banality of the work, forgetting to see the Divine, and the humanity in the little everyday things - like making a bed.  But I'm slowly re-seeing the Benedictine connection that how I treat the things in life, reflects strongly on how I treat the people in my life... with carelessness, or with care.

Words, Silence & Listening

Over the years, with the help of Henri Nouwen, I've become more aware of the relationship between the words we speak and the silence necessary to cultivate meaningful words; the way we offer ourselves to God and to others through listening.  When we listen deeply, we can offer an appropriate response - both to God and to our fellow human beings.

I've had many encounters of working with at-risk youth where my listening skills have been put to a test, and where I've been caught unaware of what to say or do.  My friend Steve wrote the following about his own past volunteer experience at the shelter I'm involved in, and it resonates with my own experiences of encountering such extreme despair:

Being an elementary school teacher on a leave of absence, I have listened and responded to 8, 9, and 10 year olds for over 20 years. My family and friends have shared their dreams and hopes with me, and I listened. I listened to my niece and nephews tell me what was going on at their schools and in their lives. I listened to their funny, and some not so funny jokes. I was a good listener... or so I thought.

One young man I met was a drug abuser. His mother was a prostitute and his father was absent from his life. He came to the crisis shelter in need of a safe place to stay, a hot meal, and a shower. We developed a great relationship during his stay and often talked about a variety of subjects. His life was filled with many highs and lows. And so...in one of those low times, I learned a valuable lesson about being a good listener. He had just broken up with his girlfriend. He told me he loved her. The story unfolded as we talked. Or rather, as he talked and I listened. I listened without opening my mouth. No talking. No advice. Complete silence on my part. We sat on the floor in the hall for what seemed like hours. Two friends... one in deep despair... the other quiet.

It was a powerful time. By being there I was saying, "You are important to me. You are worth the time and I value you!" That was one of the most important things I could have done, just being there in his time of need and saying nothing. Could I have said any words of wisdom or anything that would have been beneficial? Maybe, maybe not. I came away with a stronger understanding of what it is to be a good listener.

Listening has become an important part of my spirituality. Not at the expense of speaking, or of shutting out all the music and noise of the city - but in shaping an appropriate response, both in word and in action. To be still and know that I am not God, but still offer God's presence and words in and through me.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.  God is the friend of silence.  See how natrure - trees, flowers, grass - grow in silence: see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence.  Is not our misssion to give God to the poor in the slums?  Not a dead God, but a living loving God.  The more we receive in silent prayer, the more we can give in our active life.  We need silence to be able to touch souls.  The essential thing is not what we say, but what God says to us and through us.  All our words will be useless unless they come from within - words which do not give the light of Christ increase the darkness. - Mother Teresa, Something Beautiful For God, by Malcolm Muggeridge.

A Lesson In Music

This evening about ten of our youth participated in a talent and music contest in the same vein as American Idol, called ROP Idol.  ROP stands for Rights of Passage, which is our transitional living program that some of our youth access after spending time in our shelter.  It was a fun evening of DJ's spinning drum and base and jungle music, raps being spit, and some great rock and roll licks being spun.

In the end, a wonderful rendition of Green Day's song Good Riddance (Time of My Life) won the crowd and judges over.  A co-worker's husband has connections to a recording studio, and they hope to have the youth make a demo CD of songs he's written, and maybe even record a song called Homeless Boy for our shelter, which he had everyone in the room singing tonight.

Amidst all the activity in trying to help our youth find jobs and accommodation, and help them overcome substance abuse, and the past violence in their lives - it's nice to support them in their underlying passions of music, writing - or whatever it may be.  And they of course inform me of my own life, as I make choices too.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time