The Upside of Down, the Downside of Up: Up on the Downside and Down on the Upside

I've been walking around Portland the last few days, drinking in parks and reading and frequenting the food kitchens. It isn't so bad. Something about sleeping in dirt, on the ground, outside, or in the woods, makes me feel very rooted in my sense of communion with the animal kingdom. It's where we'd all be if society broke down.

I've been ripped off or gypped several times, and when it comes down to it I don't sweat it. Lessons learned, to be sure, but nothing worth dying over. People are OK, mostly. Shit luck situations we deal with in life push us to act in ways we normally wouldn't, more often than not. I understand that now. To that extent, it is a lot more difficult to remain angry at anyone.

And why would I? When I vibrate hatred and anger, that's what I feel in return. To the extent that it seems more powerful and advantageous to me to resonate sympathetically with energies rather than work against them, it makes more sense for me to recognize myself in others.

Lately, I find myself thinking about the story of the zen master who was robbed in his house one night, only for the burglar to find that the only possession the master had was a blanket, and the zen master took a long hard look at him and told him that he could have it. How disarming is that?

"Listen man, if you're that hard up for a few dollars, you obviously need it more than me."

Which was a lie, and quite possibly a justification for why I didn't attempt to jump three random guys on a street corner one night in downtown Portland.

Money has been tight, and I'm not much good with keeping a budget. What can I say? Everyone needs to play, sometimes. All work and no play makes jack a dull etc. I started out in the city proper this week, trying to actually get a feel for its layout and people and hopefully to fulfill my sense of wanting to have done something by the end of the day, even if it only be walk around and drink and people watch.

Several luminous, random and paradigm shifting sexual encounters later, I was sleeping under the bridge by waterfront, three sheets to the wind and wondering how I ended up sleeping under a bridge at 5 in the morning in a random city I'd never thought I'd ever live in. Funny how life happens like that. Bad decisions make for good stories, or at least entertaining anecdotes to remember to never tell your grandchildren for fear that it will corrupt their mortal souls.

And I've been plumbing the subconscious depths of my mortal soul, and some of what I've seen in that is terrifying. I think there is dirt in my teeth. I slept under the bridge in a white t-shirt which got covered in dirt. That may be a disadvantage to sleeping on a cardboard box. I guess it's not that much different from camping, really. Except you're camping with punk rockers, prostitutes, junkies, and flaming queers under a bridge.