I had seen him only a couple times since moving back from Alaska, our interactions were brief. He’s been living outside for many years now and sleeps near parks and rivers, beside buildings, beneath bridges, or at campgrounds when possible. I had been looking to share quality time, but during our previous meetings we knew we weren’t ready. One Saturday afternoon, in the midst of hours of meditation, I found him. Or we found one another. His suffering was intense. I poured out my deepest love in response to his open heart. As tears seeped through my eyelids, I asked him to come to me. At first with my inner voice, and then with my most sincere outer voice. I knew I would search for him tomorrow.
In the morning I drove to a temple for meditation, guidance, and gifts. After returning to my vehicle, I sat to decide whether I would drive the hour and a half to find my older brother or find lunch first. Within seconds my phone rang, it was my mother. She let me know he was there and he wanted to speak with me. I smiled and let her know the timing was perfect. He wanted to say that before arriving at our mother’s house he hadn’t eaten in two days, and wanted to ask if I could help with food. It was the first time I had heard his voice on the phone in years.
Two hours later I found him at the park we planned to meet at. He put the stroller containing all his belongings in the back seat of my car, and we drove to a nearby restaurant. As I ordered the burrito he requested, he asked if I could afford a second. As I added to the order, the lady at the register offered a combination plate that wasn’t picked up. He ate that while we waited for the burritos. He ate as much as he could and we headed back to the park. I asked if I could burn some incense. While it burned I asked if I could play a song about enlightenment, and he again obliged. He said he liked the song and thanked me for sharing. Next, we listened to a couple short passages of ancient scripture about the nature of existence. I was so grateful to be in his presence, as he was in mine. Once I sensed a food coma setting in, I asked if he was ready for a nap and we parted ways.
He was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and obsessive compulsive disorders as a teenager. He thrived as a young adult, choosing sobriety before medication and working hard at jobs he enjoyed. Welding, painting, tile-work, and remodeling were his bread and butter. His impeccability with chores expressed his passion. He became the father of three. Hardship got the best of him. There is much to his story. He is one of the greatest fighters I know. He inspires strength in the midst of weakness, and compassion in the midst of suffering. He is one of my greatest teachers, and I hope someday he understands the depth of his teaching.
