There is a trail in midtown. It used to be a railroad track. It snakes around behind expensive houses. There are big trees, dense wooded areas. Eventually it breaks free from the houses and empties onto an wooden bridge that spans the river. I was due a run in my quest to be physically and emotionally healthy, so I ventured out. Early into my run, I pass by a man. He looked very homeless. Long unkempt hair. Wild bushy beard. Clothes that are quite out of season. Why do so many homeless people wear a jacket or trench coat even in the heat of summer?!
Anyways, this gentleman caught my attention differently than most of the homeless people I see walking this trail. He had an old suitcase. It was brown leather, like a saddle. It was worn, but still looked sturdy. It looks like a suitcase that should have traveled all around the country in the back of a 1960's Buick. This man stood still in the middle of the path, facing the east. Motionless.
Suitcase on the ground next to him. Staring up at the sky. He looked mesmerized. As I pulled my ear bud out of my right ear. I hear the music change from The Black Angels to some semi-country music. It sounds live. I hear the sound of people's gathered in one of these expensive home's back yard. Must be party.
I wonder, does the homeless man feel sad? Is he lonely as he walks down this path alone... while he eavesdrops on a party of well off people who have likely hired a local band to play for their friends? I didn't know. But he appeared to be enjoying the second hand concert.
I jog on. Eventually, I make a 180 and head back. I catch up to the homeless man. By this time, I am walking. He smiles at me, while toting his weathered suitcase. "Hi." He sounds so happy. Like this is one of the best days in weeks. "It's getting hot," I say. "It's beautiful!" he says with a real twinkle in his eye.
I think about him for the rest of the day. Here is a man who looks as if he has no real home. I imagine he has no one to love. All his worldly possessions fit in a beat up old suitcase which he has to carry for miles. He doesn't get invited to back yard cookouts. He has to listen in... though a fence... as the wealthy people enjoy their blessings. Yet, he seems as though he is completely content... and is truly enjoying himself. Joyful. It appears as if he enjoyed that back yard bar-b-que more than the people who were actually there. I literally sense him soaking up each and every tiny little thing as though it is the most amazing and profound blessing. Sunshine. A warm breeze. A squirrel darting across his path. He must be walking with God.
Why is it that those of us who have more blessings than we can count, can feel so empty? Discontented. I figure... This homeless man has "it" figured out. Contentment.
David
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