InvasiveThoughts.com

Tales From the Park: Where Nature and Urbanity Meet

by Brooke Palmer

Part I, Overview

When we take time out to spend in a park, amazing things happen. When we get away from manmade constraints and spend time in nature, obviously we experience stillness that allows us to connect with ourselves and Earth (or spirituality, as some people define it). But when we spend time in a city park, we get to experience both the connection to nature AND the connection to humanity, in a random and powerful way. I mean a city park where we are away from strip malls and consumerism and business and logistics of life. Here we are susceptible to interactions with others that we would normally never experience. And in these encounters, we learn things!

I believe, sadly, that most of the time we avoid being approached by strangers. And, indeed, it is often uncomfortable; we don’t know what a stranger’s intentions are. But if we diminish our habitual responses to others, especially those we don’t relate to in appearance, class, race, or mental capacity, and open ourselves to the possibility of a connection, truths are observed. Lately as I’ve spent time in my city park (from which live across the street), I’ve been approached by a variety of different people, and I’ve learned something meaningful from all of them.

Part II, God and Beer

Today it was a spiritual man who approached me on behalf of his developing organization, World Humanitarian Assistance Ministry. He carried with him stacks and stacks of hand-written books, filled with white pages pasted onto lined pages, filled with words traced over in colored pencil, words of reflection on the duality of humanity, of the need for a world of humanists living within the divine care of “we” as opposed to “I” or “me.” I am not a religious person, but with this man I felt an understanding of his sense of purpose and meaning in life, his desire to reach others in the world, lovingly. And I was impressed by the effort he has put into his books. He shared with me this self-defined “prophecy”:

The spontaneity of a smile and to a hello, are fundamental expressions of both human warmth and good…..it bespeaks of the common things that bond caring, sharing and loving peoples together….a natural sense of both well-being and goodwill towards our fellowman…..indeed…it is both the hop and spunk of both heavenly and divine civility and humanity! Both amen and really… (Copyright 2007 World Humanitarian Assistance Ministry). He literally wept with joy in having met a writer today.

Several months ago I met a loving and insightful person of physical and energetic warmth who is also an alcoholic. When we shook hands, I did not want to let go because of the vibrations I received from his touch. He lives a difficult life on the streets in my neighborhood, but he is an ally of mine. On the 4^th of July this summer, he sat drinking beer with two old Hispanic men on the front porch of an abandoned house across the street. (My observations while living in downtown S.A. is that the behavior of vagrants is most erratic, unpredictable, and explosive during the summer months. I believe this to be an affect of heavy drinking under the harsh rays of the summer sun.) As I walked to the gas station next door to grab a cold drink, I was in a great mood, happy for the holiday and for the sunshine. But when I passed by the men, one of them shouted “White Bitch!” at me. I stopped in my tracks, turned to the men, and responded, “White Bitch? Did I just hear White Bitch? Is that what I heard?” Then I saw that one of the three men was my friend. He stood immediately and professed my beauty. As I turned and walked away, my friend separated himself from the two men who had offended me. He left them and walked away with his head hung, clearly saddened. Not that his affection or the fact he stood up for me would have necessarily diffused the situation, but it diffused my emotional response. Had I not met him in the park, I’d have assumed he was part of the attack.

Part III, Anger

Sometimes my park experiences infuriate me. Between the last paragraph and this one I was approached by a young guy asking me for 75 cents. I explained (honestly) that I had no change. Then he asked me who the black man (Daryl, of World Humanitarian Aid Ministries) was that I’d been speaking with and he told me the man was a crack head. I told him he was wrong and he said I was naïve. I responded that “I’m not fucking naïve,” and he said, “Don’t cuss at me, I didn’t cuss at you.”

“No you just asked me for money, spouted off some racist bullshit, and then told me I was naïve.” He walked away and left me there, angry.

Now my happy-filled reflection on the wonders of the city park has turned into a hate-filled anger. I just hope that asshole comes back through here……..

Part IV, Edward

He did come back….I asked if he’d talk to me for a moment. He came to my blanket and I told him how pissed off he’d made me and that he’d turned my mood from a happy to a very negative one. He apologized and said that he just got out of prison after 9 years, having gone in when he was 17 for something he “didn’t do.” He said he finds that he doesn’t know how to act when he sees pretty girls. And that he saw me and saw that man talking to me and that he worries about women. He said that all of the black men in prison had been “without a heart.” I replied that he was stereotyping and making wrong assessments. He said he didn’t mean any disrespect and then he became sullen.

He sat on the ground, opened his tall boy, and began to talk. He said he’d had sex with men in prison, that he is not gay but he would close his eyes and imagine a girl. He went on to speak of how women must not know what it’s like to be a man, how men’s hormones are so out of control that when they see women, they don’t know what to do, and that when he sees a pretty girl he feels sick.

In another story he spoke of how his best friend when he was 8 years old was his dog, Boopsy, a black mutt. And how one day he saw a truck run over the dog’s head and he watched the head explode all over the street. He dropped to his knees and cried. His stories didn’t seem to really link together, but I could sense that there was more to him than what I’d initial observed.

Part V, Observations

That’s what always fascinates and saddens me most about people in the world. You can often sense a person’s innate insight or intelligence buried within, twisted up by the trauma-induced problems they’ve been unable to overcome. In effect, emotional trauma is similar to head trauma. For example. A friend of mine suffered a head injury when he was a child. It was apparent to me that he was a naturally smart and insightful person, and yet he couldn’t readily access that part of himself due to the brain damage; he was often unable to make simple connections or even use simple words correctly. I could see the intelligence within him, but it was altered by this brain handicap. After Edward sat with me awhile, seeking attention and interaction, I was no longer angry with him because I began to understand that his negative projection was a self-defense mechanism.

This truth is a common theme of my park encounters. I believe that many “street people” have a natural-born IQ that implies potential. But that intelligence is warped by childhood trauma, abuse, addiction, mental illness, exposure to violence, or any combination of things that change our brain chemistry, causing an imbalance. And this lesson is perhaps the one that’s most heartbreaking. Infinite numbers of needy people exist in the world, and their behaviors are often misinterpreted.

While talking, Edward interrupted himself suddenly to ask if my laptop had internet so he could access a song he likes to listen to when he gets depressed. He said, “It’s called Imagine,” then mumbled, “It’s by John Lennon.”

Then Edward asked me if I could please give him a hug before I left the park. I was hesitant. I thought about the basic human need for touch. Though it felt awkward, I decided to give this guy a hug. He wanted to hold on longer that I was comfortable with, and I pulled myself out of his grasp.

I’m sure my parents for one would think that giving this guy a hug was not a wise idea. But maybe it’s an easy way to help another person on a small scale. I fear that from a very young age, Edward’s life was leading to his irreparable vagrancy (perhaps that’s my pessimism, or is it realism?). But there is still some kindness and perception struggling under the weight of the damage.

Part VI, Epilogue

I left the park today emotionally drained. I had not accomplished what I’d set out to do and I had instead become a magnet for needy people. But I do not resent or regret these encounters. I observed how people project negativity from their own fears and weaknesses. I learned how deeply people need attention, love, and forgiveness and why it’s important to attempt to understand the reasons behind offensive or unusual behavior. These lessons aren’t new or profound, but they are unlearned in our daily lives. I become extremely judgmental when I feel slighted in some way; I’m short-tempered and very easily offended. But my park experiences remind me that it is self-centered and misguided to personalize everyone’s behavior. Usually people’s meanness or thoughtlessness is not really about us though we like to believe it is.

This is a truth that I try (usually unsuccessfully) to carry into my daily interactions with people at work, at strip malls, driving on highways. People will piss me off to no end with their rudeness and lifestyles and judgments. But I need not personalize their actions for who knows what suffering has triggered them. And I need forgiveness as often as they do.