Fantasy. I became homeless for a brief period in 2021. It was a mistake I needed to make. I couldn't stay where I was. The owner was planning to sell the house. I had to move out by the end of January. My car battery had died and I had a flat tire from a slow leak. Both happened because I didn't drive my car during 2020. I could walk to the store for groceries and I had nowhere else to go. I dreaded moving out. The rent there had been very cheap. I knew I couldn't find another deal like that. My wisdom used my dread as a tool to teach me a valuable lesson. A fantasy developed in me: this is all a test of surrender to my wisdom. To pass the test I have to stand strong, refusing to take any step toward finding a new place to live. I couldn't even get my car fixed. In the fantasy, someone unnamed would swoop in to rescue me, fixing my car and giving me a place to live for free. In retrospect that's way too much like winning the lottery. Wisdom had me befuddled.
Hypothermia. Despite mounting pressure and intense anxiety, I stood my ground. The end of January came and I was still there. I begged for a few more days. The landlord needed me out. I ended up squatting in his house the first three nights of February. No hero appeared. The landlord kicked me out and I withdrew to my car. Still hanging on to the fantasy. After two miserable nights in my car, part of the fantasy came true. A friend paid to have my car fixed. But still nowhere to go. I knew I couldn't handle another night in my car. The first night I had to get up in the wee hours and go out into the drizzle and walk fast for half an hour to pull myself out of hypothermia. The second night I had to do that twice. My legs were beginning to get damaged by the cold. I gave up hope and drove to a cheap motel to spend the night.
Alone. That cheap motel felt like heaven after being homeless. I still wasn't out of the water. I didn't know what to do next. I still half believed the fantasy. My hero would still show up. I stayed in the cheap motel for six nights. Over that time I came around from living in a fantasy to doing what I needed to do for myself. I found an apartment and moved in. Living alone, which I had so dreaded, is what I need. The core lesson: voluntary homelessness is an abdication of privilege. It was a bone chilling lesson in more ways than one.
History. My adventure in homelessness started years before. My wisdom sees all the possible outcomes from 5-space, a perspective outside time. If I let myself be guided, my wisdom will lead me down the paths of mercy and righteousness to the best possible outcome, the one that results in the most love. I left my failed marriage in 2008. A little over a year later I was laid off the job I'd worked for ten years. I freaked out, but when I calmed back down I had a plan: to live frugally. I had a small regular income from Waltz etcetera. I learned to live within those means. I got very good at living well off a little bit of money. It was a wonderful lesson. I gained a lot of wisdom.
Pretty much everything he said. A few minor variations. But it made me develop an unhealthy relationship with money. I took care not to dip into my savings, and my savings became a sacred cow. I unconsciously believed my savings were like blood I couldn't afford to spill. Since I started doing what I needed to do for myself I've been spending money. I finally took my wisdom's guidance to heart: the money will be there.
A hundred. There's a teaching in many traditions that if I take one step toward god, god takes a hundred toward me. The one step I had to take was to find a place to live. The thing I'd been steadfastly refusing to do. With my wisdom's blessing. My wisdom's like that sometimes. Making me make just the right mistake so I can get the wisdom I need. Being homeless for two nights gave me a treasure beyond compare. It made me learn about homelessness and privilege down deep in my guts. It's a lesson that no one can learn without being homeless. It can't be learned experimentally and it can't be faked. You have to be genuinely homeless. You have to be able to see the look of disgust in a former friend's face before you can get it. Since I took that step my life has been richly blessed. I'm in a new home, my own home.