In between two worlds

Walking as a Next Culture Possibilitator in a modern culture city


I'm cold and wet. My socks are soacked, pants are damp, the cold air is blowing. In my stomach some burning sensations gurgling up my throat from the bread and tea that I eat earlier. I'm sitting in a coffee shop called Tim Hurtons in the middle of a big city where thousands of homeless people live among side very wealthy people. I'm in a position where I'm neither one nor the other. 

I'm homeless, as I don't have a place to sleep for the night, I'm carrying everything that I owe with me.I'm wealthy. I have a laptop computer, a cellphone, some money, a village that supports my journey and that I share intimately with. And my biggest wealth, I am a Next Culture Possibilitator.

I'm in the middle bridge, in the middle way, in between beeing and doing, material and nonmaterial, in between two worlds, and I don't know how to not be where I am. I am between a world of victims-rescuers-persecutors and a world of Radical Responsibility. Between heaven and hell. Not being in one nor the other, being in the in between, not belonging in one side nor the other. I've fallen through the crack of society, through the cracks of the Patriarchy gameworld,. The old friends that I thought I had in this city are not responding to my requests for a place to sleep for the night. It's cold and wet, is umcomfortable, is a heavy load with my bags, my shoes are wearing out fast. What is my purpose in being here? My village. My Possibility Village. My team mates. I feel their support. My partner and our children. I hear their support. I feel sad that there's nothing that I can do right now other than being here and feeling this sadness. I feel sad because of the weight that I carry, I feel sad because I back out, I hide, so that my people don't have to deal with my pain, so that they don't have to carry my burden, so that they survive while I sacrifice myself to die. I'm sad because the weight feels too much and stories that I'm a burden for my village. The burden becomes so much that I decide to die so that my village and my people can move forward without my having to carry my weight.

The insanity of this town is beyond reason. There are high prestige restaurants, coffee shops and stores, just a block away from homeless shelters, heroin safe-injection sites, people passed out on the sidewalk one after the other, people in dire situations where they don't have a support system, a shelter, food, water, a place to eat, shower, a place to pee or poo. I'm on my way now to tonight's shelter for the possibility to get a bed for the night, but is not for sure until I get there. I haven't always been here, but when I'm here is hard, it hurts, it's impossible to see a way out, the needs are so immense that it throws my being into a different layer of existence, an unescapable prison of the underworld. Until next time.