Who's In There?

Who’s alive in you, inside you? I just received an e-mail from a man I knew as a university student. After just a few moments he came to my memory in surprisingly clear detail. I could hear his voice; see his face, not just static, like a photo, but moving and expressive. I remembered his energy, his vitality, his talent shared so generously, even restlessly, insistently. I looked for information about him on the web, and found that his dynamism continues, the track of his activities easy to find there, an architect and radio DJ just as he was at school, where he brought so much life to the Student Union, and to me. I’m surprised at how clearly I remember him, and how prior to reading his e-mail, I was unaware of him, and had been for ten or more years.

Last night I was back at Goodwill Inn, serving dinner to homeless strangers and then getting to know six of them in a “Goals Group” afterwards. My job as a volunteer there is to use an hour to help the homeless residents to stick to their goals, to find income, housing, and balance. I find that it starts by helping them rediscover the self they’ve forgotten, and the ones who brought that self to life. I did an exercise with a name tag, asking them to write on it:

• the name they like to be called
• knowing themselves, the animal they’d be if they were an animal, other than human (opening them to metaphor, and a playful way of identifying and sharing their characteristics)
• a person who is a hero to them, who gives them hope and example
• a place they remember where they feel safe and happy

And finally, I help them relax and quiet themselves, and ask them to imagine themselves in their safe and warm place with their hero/exemplar, feeling the joy of the place and the companionship. And I ask them to ask their hero/exemplar to tell them what their gift is, what their hero/exemplar finds good and enjoyable in them. The hour is, for some of them, transformative, reminding them of something good, something forgotten. Others are blocked, held back by some invisible gate, a place or person or experience that holds them back, giving them only a longing so specific that it borders on hope.

Who plays in you, plays with joy and delight and vitality, despite your layers of activity, perhaps of struggle? Who is there all along, all these years perhaps, dancing in your blind spot of occupation, inviting you to join, to remember, to delight? What are the places that invite you back into the familiar that you’ve forgotten, places where you will recall your innocence, your simple joy, the lightness of freedom?

Around that room, my six companions returned to cavern, fishing spot, woods, and church. They basked in the companionship of grandmothers, Jesus, coach, spouse, and child. They found, in those places with those companions, that they were good and talented and treasured, that they had value. They found in the din of difficulty in finding income and housing and balance this quiet, convincing voice that reminded them who they are.

Who reminds you?

 FreeLemonadeStand by John J. Daniels is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.