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2016 author of Bodhi. Mild and brown eyed writer.
a free flowing emergence of discovery from something i wrote a few years back while under the Night of the Soul... The book us called Bodhi Under the Sky. Never finished writing it.
Chapter 2- Perry
“Hey, are you hungry or thirsty?” called Bodhi in a comforting voice to the man in the parking lot. “I’ve got food up here, I can’t eat it all myself. I also have stuff to drink if you’re thirsty”.
“Hey, yes, I would like that” said the man in a tired yet pleased voice. “It looks like you have a beer, do you have any more to spare?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll bring down some beers and a plate of lasagna. I’ll be down in a little, hang on” replied Bodhi.
He strolled into his kitchen, once again cracking open his fridge removing a 6 pack of his homemade brew and a plate of left over lasagna. He heated up the plate of lasagna, placed the beer under his arm and made his way out the apartment to the parking lot to meet the man who awaited some temporary relief.
Bodhi had firmly believed in helping other people, and as somebody who worked with the poor, he had long ago detached his mind from the stigma that social outcasts are in some way different from the rest of us. He maintained his street smarts, but realized that the discomfort we often feel in somebody who is different is a reflection of something in ourselves that discomforts us. As he approached this man, he noticed his cloths were rather beaten up, but his sneakers were brand new. There was a sneaker drive to help the homeless a few weeks prior, and Bodhi realized this man had been the recipient of a kind gesture by a stranger. These were the types of gestures that make the universe a better place he thought to himself. Since we are all a part of the same universe, and the universe is part of all of us, each gesture to help somebody else also helps ourselves. Alternatively, he believed each harmful act committed on another person was also a harmful act upon our own souls. Therefore actions should be carried out with selfless, heartfelt intent meant to benefit us all. And that includes those who may be different, or not agree with you.
Bodhi got close and attempted to make eye contact with this man, but noticed that the man was quick to avert his glance, signifying self-awareness and a presumption that he would be judged for looking homeless. Bodhi had felt this before with people, as he quickly disengaged eye contact and began the conservation half looking at the ground, occasionally glancing up to see how the man was reacting. Bodhi had become an expert in body language and knew exactly how to react to other people.
“What is your name?” asked Bodhi as he handed the lasagna plate to the man. He then slowly began popping the lid off of two beers as the man replied…
“Perry. People call me Perry.” he said nervously
Bodhi asked if he wanted to have a seat as he pointed to the picnic table under the flickering lights. Perry examined Bodhi for a moment, concluding that Bodhi felt no awkwardness towards him, and agreed to have a seat with him.
As they sat down, Bodhi decided to introduce himself, “Name is Bodhi” he said.
“Like the Bodhi tree right? Man, that must have been tough as kid” replied Perry. He said this to himself as he recognized how difficult it could be for kids with unusual names. They were susceptible to bullies he thought.
“Haha, yep just like the Bodhi tree” replied Bodhi. “When I was a kid, I did get picked on for it. But most of the kids thought my name was Cody, so I just rolled with it. I would have told teachers to call me by my middle name, but my parents never gave me one.” he said as he nervously laughed a little. Bodhi was a good conversationalist, but often found difficulty talking about himself with other people. He preferred asking questions, and responding to the answers.
“What do you think of my beer” asked Bodhi. He was oddly obsessed over brewing beer, and wanted honest feedback about how people felt about his homebrew concoctions. Perry noticed how attentive Bodhi was as he anticipated his response, so Perry told him it was some of the best beer he had ever tried. There is something about kind people that makes things seem better Perry told himself, as he knew the taste of the beer was about average.
The tone of the conversation continued to relax, as the rhetoric progressively turned more personal. “I’ve been brewing for several months since my girlfriend left me” said Bodhi. “Yeah, she cheated on me with this big time Chef, so I am on a mission to take home top prize at the Philadelphia homebrew competition”, Bodhi said half-jokingly, knowing brewing beer was merely a form of therapy for him.
“I’m sorry to hear that” said Perry. There was transparent pain behind Perry’s eyes, and Bodhi knew this man had suffered great loss in his life. He wanted to know more about Perry, so he asked him something personal.
“Has that ever happened to you? That is, has a girlfriend or wife ever walked out on you before” Bodhi asked reluctantly. He was cautious asking people questions like this; you never know what it’s like to walk in somebody else’s shoes he had learned one day. He was a professional social worker with a big heart, but one day he neglected to remember the professional part and asked the wrong man the wrong question about an abusive relationship he had been in. The man became infuriated and threw a jab into Bodhi’s face; a jab so strong that it left him with a broken nose and a jaw that needed to be wired shut. As he sat in the hospital room, he told himself this was a good lesson to learn. Be sure to always know your audience prior to asking a question. He never filed charges.
As Bodhi awaited a response, he started to worry that he had struck the wrong cord with his question. He had observed Perry clinch his fists and noticed his breathing become heavy. He had witnessed numerous situations in his line of work that prepared Bodhi for nearly anything. Finally, Bodhi noticed Perry’s entire body relax as Bodhi tried to get a read on him by looking into his eyes. He expected to see Perry, the outgoing man he had been chatting with all night, instead sat a mournfully sorrowful soul that seemed tortured and hopelessly looking for somebody to reach out to him.
“Sometimes people see me on the streets and they tell me to get a job, or get my life together” said Perry. “When they look at me, they don’t see me. I can see it in their eyes.” as tears began to roll down the wrinkled cheeks of his face. “I’ve been out on the streets for 11 years now, and I have come to accept nothing can change what caused my homelessness. I will never be able to take back what happened that day”
Bodhi knew where this was going as he stared aimlessly into the darkness of the night. He did not say a word, he just sat there preparing himself for the tragic story he was certain Perry was about to tell him. Perry wanted to talk to somebody about this, and Bodhi knew people tended to open up to him about their personal issues. Maybe it was his unassuming and nonjudgmental manner that caused people to put down their guard Bodhi thought to himself.
Perry explained how he was prosperous Architect; in fact one of the most distinguished Architects in the tristate area. He had co-founded a company with a friend he met at the Princeton School of Architecture. They were on the way to establishing one of the most prestigious companies on the entire East Coast of the United States, until that one heartrending day.
Perry began to speak about the incident in detail. “My wife and I had an agreement that I would pick the kids up from school every other Tuesday. She had volunteered twice a month at the local food bank, and that prevented her from picking up the kids those two days out of each month. I didn’t mind, it was only twice a month and I loved seeing my children as much as possible. I worked 70-100 hours per week, as our company was beginning to blossom and I couldn’t afford to miss work.” as he paused, visibly distressed as the volume of his voice turned lower and the tone of his eyes turned vacant; his eyes gave the appearance of two black holes Bodhi thought to himself. Perry continued, “One Tuesday I called her, demanding she pick the kids up from school. I was stressed over a project that was late and did not allow my wife to even respond to me. This was unlike me, and I immediately felt bad when I hung up the phone” he paused for a second, “This was the first time in 2 years I had broken the promise to pick up the twins from school. They were my world. Everything I held sacred was in their beautiful hearts” he paused again, this time breaking down crying. He told the rest of the story half sobbing, “I received a phone call from the police at 3:19 P.M. This was a time I will never forget. I was told that I needed to come to the Police Station immediately as my family had been in a car accident. As I rushed to the station, I could tell something was wrong as soon as I walked in the doors. The faces of the officers were somber, despite their best efforts to conceal their emotions. A police officer told me I needed to come with him. He drove me to the scene of the accident, and I gasped as I saw my wife’s car wrapped around a telephone pole. She had been run off the side of the road by a tired truck driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel. I looked around and saw two body bags on the ground, one being small and one being large. I knew it was one of my twin daughters and my wife. My other daughter died in my arms at the hospital 5 days later”. He stopped talking and became very upset and angry as he stood from the picnic table, screaming “and it was my fault!” as he heaved his beer bottle across the parking lot, shattering the bottle against the pavement in the distance. He dropped to his knees as his body overflowed with pain, weeping profusely as he cried out “Why did I…Why did I do it. I was supposed to pick them up from school. Why?”
Bodhi stood up, thinking about what to do next. He too was in tears, and could barely feel reality anymore. His whole body became numb as he walked over to Perry, falling down next to him, reaching out to embrace him in a hug. He cried into Bodhi’s shoulder for several minutes before regaining his composure.
They both stood up, and Perry thanked Bodhi for everything. Bodhi saw some relief on Perry’s face; he was relived to speak to somebody. Sometimes having somebody to talk to is one of the most important aspects in life Bodhi thought to himself. He reminded himself of this every day. If all else fails for somebody, and they have all but cashed in their chips, lend an ear. Talking is overrated; it is more important to listen he told himself as Perry gradually walked away into the fog, fading into the night.
Later, Bodhi discovered from a volunteer friend at the local homeless shelter that Perry had turned to heroin to escape the intense guilt he felt over the death of his family. Ultimately, his addiction drove him to bankruptcy and homelessness. He began to commit petty crimes on the street in order to support his habit, placing him in jail several times over the years. He cleaned himself of his heroin habit after 8 years on the drug, but only after counseling from several volunteers at the shelter and discovering he had contracted HIV from sharing needles with other people; he still drank excessively and did not want to seek any type of employment. The pain of losing his family was too much pain for him to carry on in the modern world. All Perry could do was wander. Bodhi carried the lessons he learned from Perry with him the rest of his life. More importantly, Bodhi learned something about love that night, as his heart had connected with Perry’s; even as a Social Worker, he had never experienced so much power come from one man’s emotions.
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