It is past 10 in the evening (Friday, September 30) and I am sitting at Fido’s (a coffee shop on 21st Avenue, 2 blocks from my office) recalling the magic of the last few hours… Before leaving work close to six hours ago, I changed into my fatigues, a blue t-shirt and a comfortable pair of cross trainers. I brought a change of clothes to work knowing what my mission for the night would be: find a homeless person, buy them dinner and learn a little bit about their life.
Today was a strange mix of totally synchronistic events with a few consistent, but easily overcome road blocks. I hit almost every traffic light on my way to work, forgot my pager and my mobile phone, I was late for two of my meetings and for the one I was on time for, the neurosurgeon I was meeting didn’t show. Thankfully, I did get to speak with him later in the afternoon. Aside from all that, it was an enchanting day. I was asked to attend the first Outpatient Order Entry Committee meeting and had more than enough to contribute. My team also put together a very successful educational luncheon on Deep Brain Stimulation (I think this will be the first of a series).
Friday, October 07, 2005
Aerial view of the Bicentennial Mall.
I must say the real magic though, didn't start until I called Carey James, also known to me by his Sufi name Nur Ashki al Jerrahi. I called Nur because I didn't have my phone and I couldn't get hold of Emily, who I was to complete tonights mission with. I told Nur the plan and invited him to join us. He agreed, but asked me to meet him at the Bicentennial Mall (a state park, not a shopping center) for an enchanting experience. I asked him to call Em and established the park as our meeting spot.
Schematic drawing of the Bicentennial Mall.
A couple of days earlier David Coots, who is a 32nd degree Mason and a new initiate of the Chishti Order of Sufis shared a mystical place with Nur. And it was this place that Nur in turn wanted to share with us. Incidentally, David's newly given Sufi name is Sarmad Chishti. According to my Sufi teacher Hazrat Inayat Khan: abstract sound is called Saut-i Sarmad by the Sufis; all space is filled with it. The vibrations of this sound are too fine to be either audible or visible to the material ears or eyes, since it is even difficult for the eyes to see the form and color of the ethereal vibrations on the external plane.
The sound of the abstract is called Anahad in the Vedas, meaning unlimited sound. The Sufis name it Sarmad, which suggests the idea of intoxication. The word intoxication is here used to signify upliftment, the freedom of the soul from its earthly bondage. Those who are able to hear the Saut-i Sarmad and meditate on it are relieved from all worries, anxieties, sorrows, fears and diseases; and the soul is freed from captivity in the senses and in the physical body. The soul of the listener becomes the all-pervading consciousness, and his spirit becomes the battery which keeps the whole universe in motion.
Some train themselves to hear the Saut-i Sarmad in the solitude on the sea shore, on the river bank, and in the hills and dales; others attain it while sitting in the caves of the mountains, or when wandering constantly through forests and deserts, keeping themselves in the wilderness apart from the haunts of men. Yogis and ascetics blow Sing (a horn) or Shankha (a shell), which awakens in them this inner tone. Dervishes play Nai or Algosa (a double flute) for the same purpose. The bells and gongs in the churches and temples are meant to suggest to the thinker the same sacred sound, and thus lead him towards the inner life.
When I got to the park I found Nur, Emily, Leah and Olivia waiting. At the apex of the Bicentennial Mall is a circular courtyard surrounded by the pillars containing the largest Carillon Bells in the world. The very epicenter of this is marked by an inconspicuous nail. Nur demonstrated that if you sit directly on this center point (on the nail), even the slightest sound you made came back to you with the most amazing harmonics. If you are even slightly off center, relative to the rest of the courtyard, everything sounds absolutely normal. Amazing, considering we were sitting outdoors, in the open.
Nur, Emily and I, sat at the center facing outwards. Our back against each others, we aligned ourselves to the 3 stars surrounding the center. Nur started playing the Shrutti Box (a drone instrument very similar to a harmonium) and we started a wonderful, enthralling chant. A chant that reverberated and responded to us in ways I haven't heard before. What a treat!
When we were done, we discussed the task at hand. Surprisingly, a Middle Eastern looking fellow taking pictures heard our discussion and decided to financial contribute to our mission. It was a very nice gesture. We all got in our vehicles and headed to Nur's home to drop off Leah and little Olivia. Incidentally, I had to give Nur a jump start.
The Parthenon at Nashville's Centennial Park.
At Nur’s, we decided to pile into my van and conveniently take one vehicle. Strange enough, it was not easy trying to find homeless people. Our first stop, Centennial Park, left us dry. We combed the park and couldn’t find a single homeless person. While we're on the subject, Centennial Park contains a full replica of the Parthenon in Greece, including a huge, beautifully gold leafed statue of Athena.
After a little deliberation, we decided to head downtown and park at the library. When we got there the library was closed, but we were able to grab a free parking spot right by it. Right across from the library was a little city park, and there finally we found a group of friendly homeless people. We asked them if they wanted to eat and we got a resounding yes!
At that time almost everything downtown was closed. The few places that were open would not serve our guests. We left our new friends were we found them and told them we would bring them back some food. After a short discussion in the car, we headed for Subway, the healthier choice. Rightfully so, Emily did not feel good about getting them a fat ridden happy meal from McDonalds.
At Subways, we purchased a variety of foot long subs. The Indian couple who ran the store was quite pleasant. We then went to a convenience store to load up on chips, orange juice and ice tea. Within a few minutes, we were back with our friends. It was interesting to note that at this point they were no longer in the tiny city park. Apparently, because it was dusk, they would have been arrested if they stayed in the park.
Our little dervish Nur began spreading out our food and drinks by the sidewalk. Each person took a sandwich of their choosing. We had turkey, ham, chicken and crab salad. There was more than enough to go around.
Like any other dinner, there was wonderful conversation. I spent most of the time conversing with Bones. Though if you met him, the last thing you would think of is bones. He was a heavyset gentleman, who just a few weeks ago was faced with the prospect of losing his leg. A wound he got developed into a full blown infection. He said a few days back he had maggots were the infection was. Luckily, an antibiotic given to him by a physician was working its charm. He offered to show me the wound, but I didn’t think that would be wise in the middle of dinner.
Bones called himself a tramp. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant so I asked him to explain. He said that the are 3 kinds of homeless people who ride the trains: hobos, tramps and bums. Hobos stay close to the tracks, they don’t usually beg for money. Usually, all they want is food and a place to stay. Hobos do not stay in one town for very long. Bums beg, cheat and steal. They always have some scam going and are the ones who have the most negative impact on how the rest of the world views homeless people. And lastly, tramps do odd jobs whenever they get into a town. They find work when they need money; sometimes working n farms, sometimes washing dishes.
I also learned that the people who train hop inconspicuously mark the houses along the tracks based on how kind the people who live there are. Bones showed me the various symbols they use to designate whether one may be inclined to provide food or shelter, or if the owner is someone who meets you at the door with a gun.
Just like in the cities, he also has to contend with “train gangs” of which there are two. The gangs identify themselves with either a blue bandanna or a turquoise bandanna. When riding the trains you want to be sure that you never allow anyone from either of these gangs to get into your car, because they will toss you overboard and take the little that you have while you are asleep.
Bones was in the military and when he got out, he took a job just like everyone else. One day, he decided that he wanted to travel and leave behind the day to day drudgery and rat race that most of us are a part of. That is why he is a tramp, he has chosen this lifestyle. He likes sleeping outside and can’t remember the last time he was indoors. He has been doing this for 16 year on and off and has done it continuously for the last 6. From what I can tell he has no plans of slowing down. Despite his infection he wanted to jump the next train headed for Arizona (the weather is warmer there in the winter). I advised him to listen to his physician and wait until his wounds have completely healed. I wasn’t so sure that he was going to listen.
Another person I spoke to briefly was Andrew. He is a young man who came to Nashville chasing a dream, looking for a better life. In short, he ran out of money before he could get settled. He said that he will probably be joining Bones on his adventures.
Andrew had a bandage from a injury he got a few nights earlier. Someone, another homeless person who has been harassing them, threw a brick at him. When they reported the incident to the police, the police made it clear that it was not their job to protect the homeless but to encourage them to leave the city. It is sad, but frankly I am not surprised.
The last person I will talk about is Emma. Emma was a sweet old bag lady who liked to smile, but it was clear that she didn’t have it all together. She had a difficult time putting her thoughts into words. She was quiet for most of the dinner. Toward the end she got a little cold and asked if anyone had a jacket. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any to offer. Like most older people she needed to get to bed early, so she said her farewells and rolled her little cart down the sidewalk to her sleeping spot a couple of blocks away. She did manage to call a friend that night on Nur’s phone. Whoever it was said they would come and get her the next day.
It was humbling and beautiful to see the dignity and humanity that was expressed by these children of god. They took good care of each other even though theirs was a temporary association. The residents of the city are scared of them, some of the other homeless people harass them and the police don’t want them around. Wherever they turn, it is made clear they are not welcome. They have no one else to advocate their cause and some of them had no family to turn to. It is an existence that the majority of us are blind to. I must admit, even with the small glimpse I caught from the brief time I spent with the group, I can’t even begin to imagine the life they live.
Shortly after our dinner a black, homeless, Baptist preacher gave us a long sermon. I can’t really share much about what he said. It’s all a big blur at this point. He took all the food that was left. Our friends didn’t have any problem sharing this with him. Like many preachers, he monopolized the rest of the conversation. After a few minutes and a prayer with the holy man, we decided to say goodbye to everyone. Nur, Em and I were happy and content. It was a magnificent evening; One that I will remember for many years to come.
At that time almost everything downtown was closed. The few places that were open would not serve our guests. We left our new friends were we found them and told them we would bring them back some food. After a short discussion in the car, we headed for Subway, the healthier choice. Rightfully so, Emily did not feel good about getting them a fat ridden happy meal from McDonalds.
At Subways, we purchased a variety of foot long subs. The Indian couple who ran the store was quite pleasant. We then went to a convenience store to load up on chips, orange juice and ice tea. Within a few minutes, we were back with our friends. It was interesting to note that at this point they were no longer in the tiny city park. Apparently, because it was dusk, they would have been arrested if they stayed in the park.
Our little dervish Nur began spreading out our food and drinks by the sidewalk. Each person took a sandwich of their choosing. We had turkey, ham, chicken and crab salad. There was more than enough to go around.
Like any other dinner, there was wonderful conversation. I spent most of the time conversing with Bones. Though if you met him, the last thing you would think of is bones. He was a heavyset gentleman, who just a few weeks ago was faced with the prospect of losing his leg. A wound he got developed into a full blown infection. He said a few days back he had maggots were the infection was. Luckily, an antibiotic given to him by a physician was working its charm. He offered to show me the wound, but I didn’t think that would be wise in the middle of dinner.
Bones called himself a tramp. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant so I asked him to explain. He said that the are 3 kinds of homeless people who ride the trains: hobos, tramps and bums. Hobos stay close to the tracks, they don’t usually beg for money. Usually, all they want is food and a place to stay. Hobos do not stay in one town for very long. Bums beg, cheat and steal. They always have some scam going and are the ones who have the most negative impact on how the rest of the world views homeless people. And lastly, tramps do odd jobs whenever they get into a town. They find work when they need money; sometimes working n farms, sometimes washing dishes.
I also learned that the people who train hop inconspicuously mark the houses along the tracks based on how kind the people who live there are. Bones showed me the various symbols they use to designate whether one may be inclined to provide food or shelter, or if the owner is someone who meets you at the door with a gun.
Just like in the cities, he also has to contend with “train gangs” of which there are two. The gangs identify themselves with either a blue bandanna or a turquoise bandanna. When riding the trains you want to be sure that you never allow anyone from either of these gangs to get into your car, because they will toss you overboard and take the little that you have while you are asleep.
Bones was in the military and when he got out, he took a job just like everyone else. One day, he decided that he wanted to travel and leave behind the day to day drudgery and rat race that most of us are a part of. That is why he is a tramp, he has chosen this lifestyle. He likes sleeping outside and can’t remember the last time he was indoors. He has been doing this for 16 year on and off and has done it continuously for the last 6. From what I can tell he has no plans of slowing down. Despite his infection he wanted to jump the next train headed for Arizona (the weather is warmer there in the winter). I advised him to listen to his physician and wait until his wounds have completely healed. I wasn’t so sure that he was going to listen.
Another person I spoke to briefly was Andrew. He is a young man who came to Nashville chasing a dream, looking for a better life. In short, he ran out of money before he could get settled. He said that he will probably be joining Bones on his adventures.
Andrew had a bandage from a injury he got a few nights earlier. Someone, another homeless person who has been harassing them, threw a brick at him. When they reported the incident to the police, the police made it clear that it was not their job to protect the homeless but to encourage them to leave the city. It is sad, but frankly I am not surprised.
The last person I will talk about is Emma. Emma was a sweet old bag lady who liked to smile, but it was clear that she didn’t have it all together. She had a difficult time putting her thoughts into words. She was quiet for most of the dinner. Toward the end she got a little cold and asked if anyone had a jacket. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any to offer. Like most older people she needed to get to bed early, so she said her farewells and rolled her little cart down the sidewalk to her sleeping spot a couple of blocks away. She did manage to call a friend that night on Nur’s phone. Whoever it was said they would come and get her the next day.
It was humbling and beautiful to see the dignity and humanity that was expressed by these children of god. They took good care of each other even though theirs was a temporary association. The residents of the city are scared of them, some of the other homeless people harass them and the police don’t want them around. Wherever they turn, it is made clear they are not welcome. They have no one else to advocate their cause and some of them had no family to turn to. It is an existence that the majority of us are blind to. I must admit, even with the small glimpse I caught from the brief time I spent with the group, I can’t even begin to imagine the life they live.
Shortly after our dinner a black, homeless, Baptist preacher gave us a long sermon. I can’t really share much about what he said. It’s all a big blur at this point. He took all the food that was left. Our friends didn’t have any problem sharing this with him. Like many preachers, he monopolized the rest of the conversation. After a few minutes and a prayer with the holy man, we decided to say goodbye to everyone. Nur, Em and I were happy and content. It was a magnificent evening; One that I will remember for many years to come.
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