Gotta write God says. Pandora closes as I start typing. Children in the background. I live right by a school. It’s nice, y’know, being able to just go from homelessness to living in one of the first apartments my life partner sent me to get into. No hassle, outside of accidentally impersonating a veteran, I mean.

My life could be way different is this were a godless universe. The rollercoaster of my life could have ended disastrously the way I had to go to fix myself; make myself more attuned to the needs of society that were at my disposal to fulfill. Lotta cigarette butts picked up, and other things. Trash, I mean. Garbage. Literal waste on the ground. Didn’t want you to think I had mastered some arcane occult life strategy of manifesting food, a pussy, a home, and more food and pussy, in that order, by y’know, just being a decent human being.

Nah, I’m too hairy for that. But this is the sort of weird shit I used to think - pray might be a better word - might be around the corner as I followed God. Certainly weird that in every city I was homeless, another out-of-luck person without an ID asked to buy alcohol, which you should know is a double-trap and the correct response is “I don’t have my ID on me right now.”

Police state shmolice state, amirite? But this is shit you can’t exactly learn in books. I mean, you’re reading this, but nothing I nor anything anyone else could write could lay out specifically the half-investigation, half-crime reduction through camaraderie, half-magick shit that goes on when you live on the street. People take advantage of you. Also, people take advantage of you to see if you are a forgiving type and deserve some special gift from the cosmos you will never see coming. These are two different things, you should know.

When you realize the angels will catch you when you fall, you don’t fear what comes over the next horizon. Food always appears when you need it most. Coffee too, 95% of the time, or at least enough caffeine that you don’t experience being totally out of it until you are ready for that. I lived off a banana a day for a week. That was my dinner. God magicked them to me by virtue of someone throwing them away, and I said I was going to make this work. And I didn’t suffer cuz I kept busy picking up trash all day, learning the area, and people learned who I was, which is another thing entirely.

You live in a society. These people around you are not NPCs. They live in a reality just as rich as yours, and they see you and will remember you, and you may not think picking up trash all day does anything, but there’s so many subtle things that would make me sound like a total schizo trying to explain, but there are angels in this world that will take care of you if you’re a good member of society.

This is where you can’t learn from reading rules. There are times to offer a man in a wheelchair a push up a hill and times where that is a mistake. People WILL learn what your intentions in life are; the only way to beat the neighborhood watch is to reach Buddhahood/Christ Consciousness to not be played by components of your own composition. Karma is real. I try to tell myself to give when I have little, but it is hard. Yet, when I have some to spare, I always give, and it always comes back. It truly is your intention that manifests your reality.

In this, gratitude is its own reward, as regardless what the universe deals you, your very nature will reframe that into a more beneficial experience for you. With belief in a higher power, even just a faint hope that there is something bigger, the worst of storms is nothing. I was in horizontal rains in Miami in hurricane season. I shrugged it off. Who I was before this, years and years ago, may have killed himself in only a fraction of the intensity of experience and ruggedness of reality in the wilds of the modern day. This is what spiritual work is, and I am so grateful for homelessness for teaching me what it means to be human.