Bearing Witness Retreat in Auschwitz, June 2010

God grant me the serenity to accept what I can not change
The courage to change what I can
And the wisdom to know the difference


Introduction

I participated in a Bearing Witness Retreat in Auschwitz, Poland from June 7-11, 2010. This was an inter-faith retreat organized by the Zen Peacemakers out of New York. I participated as an extension of my own Zen practice. There were about 150 people on the retreat from all over the world and the retreat was lead by Bernie Glassman (who started both this retreat and Zen street retreats). This post contains some impressions of my time at Auschwitz interspersed with my emails to Mitra while I was on the retreat. These are my experiences. I am not trying to speak for others.


Why did I participate in the Auschwitz retreat?

For many years, I have been drawn to the idea practicing of Zen Buddhism in a way that encompasses more than traditional practice (meditation, chanting, etc as practiced in the zendo). I have practiced with the Victoria Zen Centre for about six years now and it is important to me to compliment this traditional practice with other practices such as street retreats. For these types of practice, I have participated in retreats with the Zen Peacemakers out of NYC. I have done two street retreats - one in Vancouver and one in Victoria. I was speaking with the leader of those retreats about what to do next and he suggested that I attend the Auschwitz retreat.

Many participants attended this retreat because they have a more direct connection to the events at Auschwitz - family members that had died or family members that had been part of the SS. However, I do not have those kinds of connections. I attended because Genro suggested it to me.


First Letter to Mitra, Pre-retreat, June 6 (morning)

Hey there sweetie! I hope you had a good day traveling over to Salt Spring. How was it? Did the kids end up going to the Oak Bay tea party?

I am doing okay. I made it to Frankfurt on my own and then recognized Bernie Glassman waiting for the flight to Krakow. I went over and chatted with him and met two other folks from Zen Peacemakers - Eve and Ari. Fleet joined us as well (he was also on the same flight to Poland). Ari, Fleet, me and two others shared a cab into Krakow. The hotel is nice, but we couldn't check into our rooms because we were too early. I arrive about 10:30am and we couldn't check in until 2pm. So, I dropped off my bags and went with Ari to his hostel (there are 155 people participating in the retreat and so there wasn't enough room for everyone to stay at the same hotel in Krakow, however we will all be at the same place just outside Auschwitz).

At Ari's hostel, I met two other folks who will be on the retreat. Ari took a nap and I went to hang out in a local park, watch people and try to stay awake. After some time, I went for a walk and ended up bumping into the two folks that are staying with Ari at the hostel - Matt and Audra. We spent a very nice afternoon together.

The weather here is warm - not hot, but warm. You could see a lot of flooded fields when we flew in, but it seems rather dry where we have been. The boots that I brought are definitely too hot. I wish I had brought my crocs. Ah well. I picked up some sunglasses and sunscreen. I think that I will get a hat today as well.

I am staying right in the old town of Krakow. Yesterday afternoon I figured I should try to stay awake, so I stayed out with my new friends until 6pm. I didn't sleep on the plane over, so that meant that I was up for 27 hours straight! The old town hasn't changed much since the 1300s and there was little damage during WW2. You can tell the kids that it reminds me of Bowerstone in Fable 2. It has a very medieval sense to it. Yesterday we wandered around Old Town, took a tour, and had some great perogies and beet soup.

Krakow is the place where almost all of the events in the movie Schindler's List take place. This is the town that the real Oscar Schindler came to right after it was invaded by the Germans in 1939. Schindler's enamel factory is located in the industrial district of Krakow. The ghetto that you see liquidated in the movie is the Krakow ghetto that we visit at the start of the retreat tomorrow morning. The camp show in the movie was located close to his enamel factory in Krakow (but apparently it is just an open field now) and of course, Auschwitz is just a short distance from here. Spielberg even filmed the movie here.

I saw a note that they class lists for next year are up. Did you see them? Which classes do all three kids have?

I love you very much and I look forward to getting home and seeing you again. Give my love to our awesome kids!

XOXOXO

Eric


Second Letter to Mitra, Pre-retreat, June 6 (evening)

Great to hear from you!

It is 8:30pm for me, so about 11:30am your time. I just got back from dinner (Indian food). I have had a quiet day. I slept off and on last night - adjusting to the time change and excited/nervous about the retreat. Also the room that I am staying in is right above a bar. They had live music playing very loud until about 11pm last night and then there were people partying on the patio until 5am when the last of them left. Luckily, I am only in this room for two nights. Tomorrow I will be in the Dialogue Centre.

I spent some time reading a bunch of online resources as well. So much has happened in and around this city. Not just the death camps, but it is an old city which still looks pretty similar to how it did 500 years ago (at least in old town).

I took a long walk today. There is a big market square (the largest in medieval Europe). There is the third oldest university in Europe. There is a real castle and some of the castle walls still remain. Many of the walls were taken done and the moat was filled in during the mid-1800s. They replaced them with a strip of park all around the old city. It makes for a very pleasant walk around the city. This is a very touristy area, but a lot of the folks from Krakow enjoy coming here as well (I guess kind of like downtown for us). So, I walked around the city, explored on of the old wall's guard towers (massive place) and walked along the grounds of the castle. I bought a baseball hat, registered for the retreat and now I am going to finish the newest Robert Sawyer book that I got (on something of a Robert Sawyer kick right now), meditate and the go to bed. We meet at 7:45am tomorrow morning for the start of the tour.

I haven't seen Genro yet, but I think I am on the same bus with him tomorrow morning.

Have a great day sweetie!

BTW - good news about Dari and Alizeh's classes. Did you find out what class Kiran is in? Next year all three with be at South Park!

Love you!!!


My Dream at the Beginning

On the first day of the retreat, we toured the old Jewish quarter in Krakow and then drove to the place that we would stay in walking distance to Auschwitz. After we arrived, I took a short nap. During the nap I had a vivid dream in which members of an old culture that I didn't understand very well (conservative Jews) thanked me for coming and reached out and gave me this very sacred scroll, which was stored in a large cylinder made of white stone. The stone was old with small cracks at the top and bottom. There was a delicate white paint on the cylinder. It was chipped and peeling in places. They gave me this cylinder very gently and I took it and held it vertically in the middle of my chest. I hugged it to me and it dissolved into my body.


Third Letter to Mitra, Retreat Day 2, June 8

Sweetie - hi there! Kiss!

Just taking a break between the second day program and the evening program - We spent yesterday in the old Jewish quarter in Krakow and then traveled to Auschwitz. Today we spent the day at Auschwitz and then spent some time at Birkenau. I am not sure what to say about it all yet. Today was a lot of information and I am just overloaded right now. It is okay... I just can't really put much into words. We have processing time (council and meditation) for each of the next three days, so I expect things will settle.

It is hot! Feeling very sweaty most of the time. I am glad that I got sunscreen and a hat.

There is no wireless internet here, so it is hard to get online. I love you very much!!!!!!!

Tell the kids that I love them!!!!!!!

Eric


Impressions from Auschwitz

Auschwitz Concentration Camp was actually made up of several different camps. The first camp is Auschwitz I. It is here that there is the famous sign over the entrance. "Work will set you free". Auschwitz I is at a scale that I could get my head around it. By that, I mean its physical size was something I could understand (not the horror, just the physical scale). But Birkenau is immense. This is the site of the selection platform where train after train would arrive with people to be selected. The passengers would go into two lines: women and children on one side and men on the other. Then the healthy people would be chosen to go into the camp (where they were worked to death with an average life expectancy of 3 months) and the rest went directly to the showers (gas chambers).

Birkenau is immense. It is so large. Half of the camp is an empty field now and the remaining part of the camp is still immense. When you stand on one end of the selection platform and look down to the other end, it is so far. It is huge. The selection platform is about 750 meters long! The camp could hold up to 100,000 prisoners. It was just so large to behold.

There are no stories of survivors from the gas chambers. There are survivors from Auschwitz, but the stories that I heard are all from people who were selected to work in the camps at Auschwitz and Birkenau. Some (few) of those people lived. No one who went to the gas chambers lived. The camp goal was for 80% of the people shipped to Auschwitz to go to the gas chambers and only 20% to go to work camps. The average life expectancy in the work camps was 3 months. No one quite knows how many people were killed in the camps, but most historians seem to agree with the number displayed at Auschwitz of 1.1 million people (400,000 of which were killed in just two months).

All of the pictures of the dead from Auschwitz show these starved corpses. The vast majority of people killed at Auschwitz were not starved first. They were shipped directly from the Jewish ghettos that had been set up across Nazi Europe and sent directly to the gas chambers. They didn't have time in the camps to starve to death. Many died the same day they arrived and their bodies were burnt.

One of the things that struck me about the systems that were set up at Auschwitz and Birkenau is how efficient they were. These were systems on a massive scale, from the setting up of the ghettos in many cities, to the train system for moving people to the camps, to the camps themselves and their cruel systems. Birkenau could process large numbers of people very quickly. At its peak, 400,000 Hungarian Jews were murdered in just two months. That is an average of 6.6 thousand people a day!

These Jews were brought to Birkenau, they were sorted and then selections of healthy workers were made. Those that were not selected were sent directly to the gas chambers. They were told that they were taking a shower and needed to undress. Then they were gassed. They could kill thousands each day. It took about 4-8 minutes for people to die from the gas, but the guards would leave the chamber shut for about 20 minutes. Then all of the clothes, shoes, etc were sorted. Also all of the luggage that had been left on the sorting platform was collected and sorted.

This was a complicated and efficient process up to the point that the prisoners were murdered. However, the process seemed to me to break at that point. They could murder people in far greater numbers than they could dispose of their bodies. Disposal time was the choke point in the process, not murder time. For all of the efficiency that was clearly designed into the system, the efficiency seems to end with the deaths of those that the Nazis wanted murdered. It is all so insane.



Forth Letter to Mitra, Retreat Day 3, June 9

Hey there sweetie - the theme for today was HOT! It was a good day, but boy was it hot. We did council this morning and then 2 sits on the selection track at Birkenau, religious service (I attended the Buddhist one), soup lunch outside Birkenau and then a third sit in the sun. We then did a closing ceremony. It was really good. I really appreciated just sitting and not being rushed about to see another site (which is what the last two days were like).

I am sorry to hear that D and A are sick. It never fails, eh? One of us goes away and something happens with at least one of the kids!

I hope you are well. Don't worry about me. This has been a very positive experience so far (hopefully I haven't jinxed it!).

I love you. You are in my heart.

Give my love and hugs to the kids!

Eric


Chanting the Names of the Dead

When we meditated on the selection platform, sometimes it was done in silence and sometimes groups of people would read lists of names for people who died at Auschwitz. Many of the names seemed very unusual to me. I would listen and they would flow past like a Zen chant in Japanese. However, every now and then there would be a name that was very familiar. Occasionally there would be a last name of someone that I knew well. My first name was read. When these things happened, it was like a fishing hook going into my body and pulling me into the stones that cover the selection platform. I was bound to this place.


Language of Abuse

The language the Germans used was the language of abuse. Often there was a hint of hope in the language or an attempt to legitimize horrible and illegitimate behavior. When the Germans set up the Jewish ghetto in Krakow, they said it was for health reasons. Jews were carriers of disease and it would be healthier for the Polish population of Krakow if all of the Jews were segregated. Based on this reason, 15,000 people were crammed into a section of the city where 3,000 people used to live. They lived in poverty without enough food or water. But all of this was for health reasons and in the best interests of everyone.

When the Germans liquidated the Krakow ghetto, they put up notices. I read the text of the notice (in translation) and at no time does it mention the liquidation of the ghetto.

The Germans sold train tickets for Auschwitz to some of the people that they sent there. This was a way of legitimizing the trip.

When people arrived at the selection platform, they were told to leave their luggage on the platform with their names clearly marked on the luggage to make sure that they could find their luggage again after their shower. The changing room before the gas chamber had numbers above the hooks - make sure to remember your number so that you could retrieve your clothes from your hook after your shower.

The Germans would talk about resettlement and showers, not death camps or gas chambers. As many know, the gas chamber even had fake shower heads.

So much abuse uses language to minimize, hide or legitimize the abuse.


Fifth Letter to Mitra, Retreat Day 4, June 10

Hi,

Doing well. Still very hot. I am red after today, but I don't think I am sunburned. I have been using lots of sunscreen and drinking lots of water. The place we are staying doesn't have any warm water much of the time, but ice cold showers at the end of the day are nice. Our daily walk is 30 min each way. My feet are getting a few more blisters each day. Luckily, there is a doctor who has lots of band-aids. Thankfully nothing is too bad.

I am sorry to hear that all of the kids are sick now. Perhaps they are a little better today. It is almost dinner time now. After dinner, we will have an evening session (usually until 10pm or so).

Genro has been very busy - he is kind of like the Shoji for this retreat. I would like to chat with him, but so would many other people.

We meditated on the selection platform for two periods today. I had a turn reading names of people who died here. I was nervous but it went fine. After lunch outside the gates, we meditated and other people read names inside one of the barracks at Birkenau.

I came here thinking that this would be a retreat about the experience of genocide across the world held at Auschwitz, but what I have found is a retreat about the genocide at Auschwitz. It is much more rooted in this place, this soil and these issues that echo today. There are many Jews and Germans and much discussion of Israel. There is even one Arab and discussion about how the "west" didn't want the Jews and pushed them on the Arabs. How this site is so powerful and different groups and nations use that power towards different ends. Auschwitz proves that we should be more peaceful and that war is wrong. Auschwitz proves that you need a strong military force to guard you and sometimes violence is necessary.

So many issues for me to hear. I have learned a great deal and made some good new friends. It is not what I expected, but it has been good.

Enough writing for now. I love you and hold you in my thoughts. Thank you for giving me the support and freedom to do this. I really appreciate it.

Give the kids my love and hugs and kisses!

Sei-in


Innocence

There is blood on everyone's hands.

Survivors who escaped meant the death of prisoners who remained as examples to others. Any time people escaped the camp, the guards would kill some (I heard 10) of the prisoners who were left. Each escape by one of those survivors is held up as a heroic act, but it also meant the death of fellow prisoners.

Survivors who were rescued by the Red Army often had to do horrible things to survive while they had been in the camps. One of the survivors was forced to run in a large circle as fast as possible. He said that hundreds of them were being forced to run and that those who were weak and fell down were trampled. The SS wouldn't let them stop running. He didn't stop running. He trampled people to death.

Fifty years later, he was finally able to talk about this and asked his priest: "Am I a murderer? I didn't stop running. Am I a murderer?"

No place for innocence in Auschwitz.

If you were a Pole during the occupation, you could take the tram through the Jewish ghetto and see what was happening. If you lived next to Auschwitz, you could smell a sweet smoke. Poland talks about Poles (meaning Christians) and Jews (Polish Jews). They don't talk about all people as "Poles". This has gone on for hundreds of years. I can't recall the exact date, but five hundred years or so ago, the king in Krakow moved all of the Jewish people out of Krakow and set up a Jewish district just for Jewish people. There was even an entrance into the walled city of Krakow called "the Jewish Gate".

I heard that other countries hid more of their Jewish population during WWII. As a result, more of their Jewish population survived. However, I haven't checked to see of this is true. I have also heard that Switzerland turned away Jewish refuges at their boarders, while claiming neutrality in the conflict.

I read that the Allies received many reports that talked about what was happening (including photos as proof) in Auschwitz. These were smuggled out from the camps. The Allies knew what was happening. However, it was not a military objective to stop what was happening.

I wonder to myself what my own Zen lineage was doing in Japan during WWII. We were certainly not assisting the Allies.

And the pattern existed before the Holocaust... I think of the First Nations and their planned cultural genocide. I think of the thousands of First Nations who died over a two year period in Victoria as a result of a small pox epidemic.

The pattern continues through history from before the Holocaust through to today. I am 41 as I write this and how many genocide have happened in my lifetime? Five? Ten? How any of these genocides did Canada ignore? How many have I ignored?


Sixth Letter to Mitra, Retreat Day 5, June 11

Hey sweetie,

It is morning here. We are just waiting to go to Birkenau for the last day of sitting and service. It looks like it will be really hot. I am wearing my grey pj pants instead of jeans because they are lighter. I feel a little self conscious but by the last day of retreats like these, anything seems to go.

Last night was hard. I was in an okay space when I went to bed, but in the night... ah.... a hard night. I dreamt of bodies - rooms of bodies - white bodies like your pictures from Rwanda.

There are seven of us sharing the room together. Two nights ago, someone yelled out in the middle of the night a sentence in German. Last night, there was a scream from one of the people in the room. A scream in the darkness. In the morning, several people remember the scream, but no one remembers doing it, so I don't know who it was.

There is so much pain here and last night that pain flooded me. I woke up with all of the covers pushed on the side of me. It was like sharing the bed with someone, like someone next to me. An image flashed through my mind - it was like sleeping in the camps, where people must have screamed out in the night. Where they slept two to a bed and often the person next to you would die in the night. When there was roll call, you would need to take the person out to be counted. I heard a survivor say that it didn't make whether you were alive or dead, it only matters that the count is correct. That was where I woke up this morning - feeling that there was a dead body in bed next to me… someone who had died in the night.

------

I am back from the day now and I can write some more.

We have council first thing in the morning. I thought about talking about my night when I arrived at council. I was feeling very fragile and open. However when I got the talking piece, what came out was describing some details about when I was abused in the shower as a kid. It was the first time that I have shared those details with a group of people. I felt lighter afterward. It was a good group of people to share this with.

The day was heavy today. It was really really hot (very unusual for this spot in Poland). I drank 4L of water at the site today and I have almost finished a liter of powerade back at the Dialogue Centre. I had quite a headache when I got back today, but I am feeling better now.

Back to the day... we meditated on the selection platform again today. Then we did a variety of services through the day. Lots of feelings came up and moved through me. I just didn't realize all of the perspectives on this place. I have learned so much about these perspectives. There is a rabbi here that I have really enjoyed listening to. He does great sermons (with lots of singing and joy!). At one point today he told a story about two lovers who were separated in the camp. They both ended up living, but didn't reconnect until they were old. Then the rabbi was joined by his wife and together they led everyone in a wonderful song about lover and lovers. I had my eyes closed and I could see you so clearly in front of me - so beautiful and wonderful. You were so clear. I love you and I am so happy with you. Thank you for being with me.

Now I am back at the Dialogue Centre. It is good to be clean, showered and sitting in a comfy chair. If only I could also have a cold beer...

Tomorrow I head into Krakow. Some of my new friends are also leaving on Sunday, so we are going to hang out on Saturday. And then I will start the trip home :-)

I am really looking forward to seeing you and the kids. I think it will be wonderful to celebrate Alizeh's bday on Monday.

I hope you are well and that the kids are getting better.

Eric

My Roommates

When I checked into my room for the retreat, I was surprised to find that I was sharing the room with six other guys. Folks in the room were from the US, Germany, Poland, Israel and Canada. We were connected through our mutual interest in Zen and our participation in the retreat. It was awesome. Almost everyone snored (including me!). It seemed like an army barracks (at least the image that I have of army barracks drawn from movies): a bunch of guys going through some difficult experiences, sharing and watching out for each other. It was a real joy to get to share that kind of energy. I hadn't expected it on this retreat and realized how much I missed it in my daily life. It is ironic that while attending an Auschwitz retreat, I would enjoy being in a setting that seems to me like an army barracks (which would put myself and my roommates in the roles of soldiers).

The Heat

It was very hot at Auschwitz during the retreat. It was summer, but the weather was much hotter than normal for this time of year. We had temperatures of up to 94•F. In the early morning of the last day of the retreat I could feel the heat on my skin from meditating outside on the selection platform. I had been wearing a lot of sunscreen, but I was still slightly sun burnt. It felt like the dust, dirt and ash of Auschwitz had been baked into my skin and would never come out. It was part of me now, baked on and permanent.

Brad Warner, Dana and Dogen

Dogen: "Earning a living and doing productive work are originally nothing other than free giving."

Brad Warner on Dogen: "Working for a living is ... a means of giving freely of ourselves for the sake of others."

Sei-in on Brad on Dogen: "Receiving is a means of giving, while giving is a means of receiving."

I have to say that at the last Dana meeting, I was feeling kind of fed up. The VZC didn't actually need any more money right now and I felt it was unreasonable for Eshu to have a Dana meeting and ask for money when we didn't need any money to run the organization. To top it off, I was just getting back from a couple of days in Vancouver, which left me feeling cranky and tired.

So that was my state of mind when I arrived. We all met, shared dinner and the started the form of council. This is a form that I first experienced on the street retreats. I find it an extremely powerful way for a group to come together and collectively process their experience.

We went around the circle a couple of times. On my first turn to talk, I felt cranky (and I think my words were cranky). I was able to share my feelings without judgment and then listened to the others. As the evening progressed, I came back to a place that I have been before - a feeling that there is no giving and no receiving. If I investigate what is happening when I am giving, then I can see that I am also receiving. Similarly if I look into when I am receiving, I can see that I am giving as well.

In the end, Mitra and I were pleased to make another donation to the VZC. I left the evening in a very good mood (a big change from when I arrived).

As Dogen says, which Brad Warner comments on and then I interpret:
"Receiving is a means of giving, while giving is a means of receiving."

The Dream - Why I am a Vegetarian

I used to eat a fair amount of fast food. I would eat at McDonald's at least once a week.

One night, about eight years ago Mitra, baby Darius and I had taken the evening ferry to Vancouver. On the ferry, I had eaten a particularly gross hamburger and later that night, I had "The Dream".

In my dream, I walked into a McDonalds. It was strangely quiet and I was the only customer. This made sense in the dream. I went up to the counter and ordered my usual: a Big Mac, a regular hamburger and a vanilla milkshake.

The server handed me my food. Instead of a usual bag, the server handed me a big black garbage bag (the kind that have a hint of green in the plastic, if you hold it up to the light). The garbage bag was rolled down.

I opened up the bag and looked inside. The bottom of the bag was filled with dirty sawdust - like sawdust that had been thrown on a shop floor to soak up spilt oil. The bag also contained old black dress shoes of many different sizes.

I remember thinking in the dream, "This is odd". Another voice said in my head, "This is always what you have been getting. You just never saw it this way."

I looked closer at the shoes and was struck in horror by the realization that the shoes were mismatched. Remember the image of those huge piles of shoes in Auschwitz? It was as if someone had taken a shovel full of shoes from this massive pile and put these mismatched shoes in my bag. I could feel this whole machine turning away and cranking out my meal.

I awoke in a sweat. I lay there in bed in the early morning and felt the impact of the dream wash over me.

I made many changes in how I eat as a result of that dream. The first change was to stop eating at McDonalds. After many years of eating regularly at McDonalds, I stopped the day after my dream and haven’t eaten there once in the eight years since this dream.

A few months later, I stopped drinking coffee. I was never a big coffee drinker, but I would consistently have a cup of coffee in the morning. I noticed that within a week of not drinking coffee, my stomach stopped hurting in the evening.

About six months later, I stopped eating refined sugar for about four years. I used to eat a lot of sweet food! It was really hard to not eat candy bars, white chocolate and the like, but I did for four years. After we sold the company, I started having some sugar again. Now I eat some refined sugar, but far less than I ever had in the past. I am much more balanced in my consumption of sugar.

Then about a year after I had The Dream, I stopped eating meat. It seemed to me that not eating meat just made sense. It is not that I have any issues with killing my food. I just didn't want to participate in the industrial production of meat anymore. It was like coming full circle back to the original moment of the dream.

I find it interesting that one short dream could change so much in my life. No other dream has had such an impact on my life.


Postscript 1 - Mitra’s Reaction

A funny story...

When I came home and told Mitra that I wasn't going to eat meat any more, she just laughed at me.

"What are you going to eat? All you eat is meat!"

She was right. My diet used to be very unbalanced (lots of meat and carbs, no fruit and veggies). Becoming a vegetarian has meant that I had to eat way more fruit and veggies. After six years of no meat, I have started eating a little meat in the past six months.

It seems to me that I had been so unbalanced in one direction that I needed to go far in the other direction for some time before I could find a healthy balance (lots of fruit and veggies with a little meat once in a while).


Postscript 2 - Keeping It Quiet

When I made the other changes to my diet, I never told anyone. I just wanted to keep them to myself. However, when I stopped eating meat I found it impossible to not mention.

The day after I made the decision, I was at lunch with a business friend. I ordered a veggie pizza and he asked me if I was vegetarian. A week or two later, I was traveling for business in the US. We stopped somewhere to eat dinner and every item on the menu involved meat (even the salads!).

I often attend business lunches and dinners. Every time I do this, I always have ask the server for a vegetarian meal. Not only does this announce to everyone at the table that I am vegetarian, but it invariably means that I am served at a different time than other folks at my table.

I tried being a closet vegetarian, but found it impossible.


Postscript 3 - Part of the Family Story

Darius refuses to ever eat at McDonalds. He happily eats meat, but is adamant that he will never eat at McDonalds because McDonalds is bad.

I once asked him why he has such strong feelings about McDonalds (especially because he has never eaten there). He told me all about my dream in McDonalds. It was an odd moment for me because I had never directly talked to him about my dream. However, he had overheard me tell the story enough times that he could recite it from memory. It was surprising.

I realized in that moment that the story of my dream had become part of the fabric of our family story. The kids know the story by heart and it informs how they live their lives.

"Seeing is Believing" Tour of the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver

I had the opportunity to join a "Seeing is Believing" tour of the downtown East-side of Vancouver on June 30, 2009. “Seeing is Believing” tours started in England and have been very successful at providing a way for people to understand more about life in places like the downtown East-side.

As most folks know, I have previously participated in two street retreats (one in the DTES). I figured that this tour would provide a different view into a world I had briefly experienced previously. On the street retreat, we only used a few services (like for food) and the Seeing is Believing tour gave me the opportunity to learn more about services that I had not experienced.

We started off at the Potluck Café. This is a social enterprise. It is a business which makes meaning in the world through training staff, providing meals to those who need them as well as running a restaurant and providing catering to business functions.

At the restaurant, there was an overview of the tour, the Street to Home foundation and the Potluck Cafe. The information was very well put together and the presentation was very professional.

Next we went to RainCity Housing which provides long-term and transitional housing. We got an overview by the Executive Director. The comment he made that stuck out in my mind was when he said, "Initially we would try to tell people how best they should proceed in their lives. That didn't work. When we realized that each of the people we were working with were experts in their own lives, then we could be much more helpful. These people had survived through some horrible situations and the fact that they are alive is an accomplishment to be proud of. We needed to understand that they are the experts. We are the most helpful when we ask them what they would like to achieve next and work with them to that goal."

We then divided into two groups (depending on whether you had a "1" or a "2" on your name badge). My group went for a tour of the housing first. They showed us a room. It was reasonably clean and very small. There were hotplates in the room and a shared kitchen down the hall.

They explained that their policy was to allow most things to happen as long as it didn't bother other people and it wasn't selling drugs.

Then my group went to chat with some of the folks that were staying in the place. We divided into smaller groups and 3-5 people each chatted with one tenant. My group spoke with an aboriginal man. He had been placed in the foster care system when he was a baby and had spent his entire childhood in that system. He didn't like it. When he was 16, he committed some crime (he didn't say what) and he went to jail. He had just gotten out a few months ago.

He was about the same age as me and he had never been outside of a rigidly structured system (foster care and then prison). It was striking.

Next we went to Covenant House. They provide service to street youth including a drop in centre, addictions counseling and housing. The Executive Director was very eloquent in her comments. For her it all boiled down to providing three things: support, structure and love.

She talked about how important it was to have clear structure for these kids. She was also the only person who mentioned the importance of emotions (in particular, love) in providing services.

After her talk, we once again divided into two groups. My group stayed and broke into smaller groups to chat with folks who work at Covenant House. At our table was a woman who had been working there for several years. One thing that she said really struck me: Every single kid who she has worked with at Covenant House was abused before arriving, regardless of their gender. Sometimes the abuse is recent (for example, "you can have free rent if you…") and sometimes not, but all the kids have been abused.

Next my group went and chatted with some of the kids who had gone through Covenant House. There were four kids who were all on their early twenties. One had turned his life around and was now working at Starbucks. Another had fought with the structure of Covenant House and talked about realizing that the structure was there to help her.

Another kid talked about needing money and working as a stripper to earn cash. Now she was on a path that she preferred.

The one kid who stood out in my mind the most was the oldest one. She was in her mid-twenties. Her mother was a sex worker and she was raised in the foster care system. She said that she had been through twenty six different Elementary schools.

Twenty-six schools!

Assuming that the Elementary school system went to grade 7 when she was attending (unlike now, when it goes to grade 5), then she would have averaged about four different schools a year for seven years!

She was obviously a bright woman, but she talked about how she hadn't been able to learn anything because her schooling had been so broken up. If my memory is correct, she only learned to read after turning eighteen.

She talked about how hard it was to grow up with everyone around you thinking that you would grow up to work in the sex trade.

She talked about how the foster care system paid for her bills until she turned eighteen. She turned eighteen in the middle of the month and the system wouldn't even pay for her last two weeks of rent. She was out on the street. Luckily, several kids said that the folks at Covenant House were good people. She went there and they provide what she needed: support, structure and love. She learned the skills that she needed, finished school and now is hoping to go to university to study to be a teacher.

I was really touched by her story.

The next location was the Coast Mental Health Resource Centre. Once again we had the overview briefing by the ED. We then talked to some residents and finally went on a tour.

What struck me about this final stop was seeing this one guy who looked a lot like one of my friends from university. It wasn't my friend, but he looked so much like him. It reminded me of my connection to everyone there.

Afterwards, the tour group gathered to discuss the experience and provide feedback. A few people commented that they felt the tour had been somewhat sanitized. The organizers agreed with this point. They felt it would be too dangerous to bring such a large group (30
people) to some of the more dangerous locations. However they indicated that they would be happy to arrange a tour with a plain clothes police officer.

Two of us indicated our interest in participating. Subsequently, we arranged confirmed a date with the police officer for late August.

All in all, I am very glad that I had the opportunity to attend the Seeing is Believing tour. The tour validated a lot of impressions I had from my street retreat (such as the importance of emotional connection). It also helped me to learn new things (such as the role of the foster care system in homelessness).

I look forward to seeing where this knowledge will take me.

A Moment of Change

I am standing on a dirt road in Cambodia. It is hot. I feel connected to the sky above my head and to the ground underneath my feet. I feel that I am where I should be, doing what I should be doing.

I have just finished giving out packages of school supplies to lots of children. The kids have gone off to look at what they have received and I am speaking with an old Cambodian woman. We are talking about how the Khmer Rouge killed her husband. She asked if I could give her any money and I have quietly pushed a US twenty dollar bill into her hands. She asks me why I am doing this.

"Because I am a Buddhist." I reply.

At this point, I had been practicing Buddhism for almost exactly 2 years, but that was the first time I told almost anyone that I was Buddhist.

I had just spent 6 months in Southeast Asia visiting a variety of Buddhist countries. I was keeping my head shaved at that time (looking a lot like a Buddhist monk). Folks kept asking me if I was Buddhist. I would side-step the question and just say that, "it was a good way to keep cool."

I didn't want to say that I was Buddhist.

For 18 months previously, I was in Victoria (before we left on the trip) and I didn't mention my involvement in Buddhism to anyone except a few close people.

For 24 months, I was worried about what people would think if I said that I was Buddhist. I was worried that people would think I was flaky. I was worried about how this would change what it was to be Eric. Would this change my identity (both in my own eyes and in the eyes of others)? I was worried that I was pretending and somehow a fake. Perhaps I wasn't as sincere as others? Somehow Buddhism belonged to someone else and I was intruding.

In that moment on the hot dirt road in Cambodia, I acted differently.

In that moment in Cambodia, the most truthful, deepest, honest and authentic answer that I could give to the old Cambodian woman was, "I am giving these things because I am Buddhist."

That was a turning point for me. Since then, I have been very open about my involvement with Buddhism. I had feared that I would find rejection, concern and disagreement. Instead, I have found interest, curiosity and so much more acceptance than I would have thought possible. What a wonderful surprise!

The acceptance started in this important moment with the old woman in Cambodia. When I told her, she nodded. There was no scolding or anger. There was only happiness, warm acceptance and understanding. She replied to me, "Of course you are. I am Buddhist as well."

She held my hands tight, smiled and her eyes beamed. Then she walked with me out of the sun, to sit with a dozen or so mothers and their children. We enjoy fresh coconut milk while the room filled with smiles and laughter.

Names, Names and More Names

I Want A Cool Buddhist Name!

So when I first got involved with Buddhism, I thought it was so cool to have a Buddhist name. What a great thing! To have some cool sounding Japanese name that I could use. I wanted one!


Name? I Don't Want A Buddhist Name!

I practiced with the VZC for a few years and then had the chance to attend my first sesshin. During that sesshin, I had my first clear memories of my abuse as a child. It was a very overwhelming experience. Part way through the sesshin I lost my interest in getting a Buddhist name. I asked myself, "Why would I want that? I feel so f**ked up. I am just going to focus on meditating."


Don't Think About It Too Much...

After another year and a half, I met the requirements for Jukai. I wasn’t working towards this, but it happened anyways. Eshu asked me if I wanted to do the ceremony. The idea rolled around in my head and when Eshu asked for the second time, I said yes.

The night before the ceremony Alizeh was sick all night. I stayed up with her, thinking that if I stayed up, then at least Mitra will have rested and I could get some sleep the next day after the ceremony.

So, the ceremony was very surreal on account of my exhaustion. During the ceremony, I received my Buddhist name. I hadn't really thought too much about the idea of a new name since my first sesshin almost two years earlier. I found when I had the new name, I wanted to use it. I like being called Sei-in.


There Can Be Only One!

However, I liked Sei-in so much that I wanted to get rid of Eric. I wanted to fix on Sei-in. Out with the old and in with the new.

I figures that I would try out my new name and give myself until after my third sesshin to make a decision. I really wanted to go one way or the other.

I did the sesshin in May and was confused when I came back. I wanted a decision about by name. I wanted one name. But that is not what happened for me. It felt like I was forcing it. So, I took some time and space just to let things settle.


Two Names Are Better Than One

I am not sure what I will do in the future, but for now I am using both names almost equally.

In the confusion that comes from using two names I have found the constant reminder that I am both of these names and neither of these names. I am other names too: Dad, Brother, Sweetie...

Without fixing on one name reminds me on a daily basis that I have the freedom to be all of those names and none of them. It is like the saying, “The person with one clock always knows the time, while the person with two clocks is never sure.”

I have found both fear and freedom in doubt.

How Our Family Connected to Buddhism

In 2006, we had the opportunity to pack up our life and travel in Southeast Asia for 6.5 months. When we left in late January, 2006, the kids were all very young. Kiran was only 11 months old, Alizeh was 3.5 and Darius seemed old at 6 years old.

When we left, we left as a family of five people with one person practicing Buddhism. By the time we returned, Buddhism was something we shared as a family.

Each of us came to Buddhism in our own way. My path led to Buddhism before we left. Mitra found her connection through some very strong nuns in Vietnam. In spending time with these nuns, she saw an example of well educated and powerful women practicing Zen (in stark contrast to what she had seen in Thailand).

Alizeh developed a relationship to Buddhism through visiting temples.
She really enjoyed the ritual of the temples. When I took her to a temple, she asked me what we did there. I explained that we respectfully watched what happened while the locals went through their rituals. She challenged me: "Those people are doing something. I want to do something, not just watch them do something!" And so Alizeh learned the local rituals and made offerings at many temples across Southeast Asia.

Darius visited some temples, but didn't connect as much to the form as Alizeh. For him, it just slowly became a more visible backdrop of his life. I would typically put the older two kids to bed. I would read them a story and then sit in the room with them to meditate while they went to sleep. We had a lot less space when we were traveling than we have at home. The result of this was that it pushed my meditation practice to be more visible for the kids. Soon they were asking what I was doing and asking if they could do it too. Seeing his Dad meditate on a daily basis was important in building Darius’ connection to Buddhism.

Now for Kiran, it was different. He was quite young for the whole trip. He was only 1.5 years old when we returned home. By this point, everyone else in the family had found some connection to Buddhism and Buddhism became the water that he was swimming in.

As I write this, it is almost three years after we arrived home from our trip. Buddhism has stayed with our family, while each person has developed a different relationship to it.

I continue practicing with the Victoria Zen Centre. Mitra’s focus has been on getting her Masters’ degree for the past three years. Buddhism and the community stay close to her heart, even if she has had little time to go out to the VZC. Darius likes having a Buddha statue in his room, when he is feeling scared at night. Alizeh leaves letters for Kwan Yin (a female Buddha) behind the Kwan Yin figure in her room. In the morning, she enjoys reading Kwan Yin’s replies. Kiran likes to light incense, meditate and do prostrations. As a family, we enjoy going to the VZC Sangha Sundays and Buddha’s Birthday Celebration each year.

"If he discovers religion, he will become a TV evangelist!"

I grew up in a family without any formal religion. My mother was certainly a spiritual person, but we didn't belong to any religious group. I think that mom was skeptical of any organized religion. Dad wasn't spiritual at all. What spirituality came to us as kids, came from my mom.

So, I wasn't really exposed to any organized religion growing up, even though I was exposed to spirituality. I had only been to 2 church services in my life (not including weddings or funerals) before I started practicing Buddhism.

When I was a kid, my folks took this picture of me in my grandparent’s backyard in California. I am dressed in a corduroy suit (all the rage back then!) with a stern look on my face and my hands clasped in front of me. The photo became a defining part of our family's story. The story went like this: "In this photo, Eric looks like either a preacher or a gangster. We don't want him to be a gangster and if he gets into religion he will be insufferable. He will be like a TV evangelist. So Eric should never get into the mob or organized religion."

This story went on for years. I guess the photo was taken when I was 4 or so and the story was part of our family until I got involved with Buddhism and didn't become a TV evangelist.

Any time I would express interest in religion the story would come out: "well, you know what mom always said about you and religion..."

Fast forward to 2004… by this time, my mother had passed away, Mitra and I were married with 2 kids and I was very involved with the company that I had co-founded, PureEdge. I came home one hot day. I thought that something may be up as soon as my mother-in-law told me that she would look after the kids, while I should go upstairs to chat with Mitra.

I went up to our bedroom and Mitra told me to sit down. I sat down and Mitra told me that she was pregnant with our third child. This was not the plan! We had a boy and a girl. We were done. Or so I thought. The idea of another child scared me.

Mitra and I saw a counselor together who helped us to take a broader perspective on the child. She asked us to think about ourselves in the future and what we would tell ourselves to do now. The answer was clear to me - the future me would tell the present me to have the child. Yes, it would be hard, but it would be worth it. I would live to regret it if we didn't have the child (I have to add that I am very thankful for this advice. It was just what I needed. Also, I am very thankful to have Kiran in my life).

I could clearly see that I wanted to have the child, but I was still scared. In the moments between sleeping and waking, I would feel this horrible fear sitting on my chest.

I went to see a different counselor whom I had seen previously about my mother's death and various work-related stresses. She said that she thought that my fear was not to do with having a third child, but to do with something greater. The pregnancy was just the "straw that broke the camels back".

We talked about how I could figure out what the greater issue was. She mentioned a variety of approaches to figure it out. She mentioned hypnosis and I knew that was what I wanted to try. Further, I wanted to be hypnotized in my painting studio at home (otherwise known as my garage), instead of in her office.

The next Saturday I found myself in my art studio, settled in comfortably on a chair next to my counselor. She led me to relax and go to a safe place within myself. There I was greeted by two visitors - two parts of myself that needed expression. One was a child of me and the other was an older figure. It was kind of like a dream. At one point, this figure put his hands on my shoulders and looked at me. In a voice that you would use to talk to a child who just isn't listening, he said, "Find a teacher." His voice was frustrated as if he had said this to me a thousand times and if I would only listen, I would be so much happier.

I returned to my normal state, guided out of the hypnosis by my counselor. I knew that I needed to find a religious teacher. I felt that while I felt deeply spiritual, I needed to be involved with some group. It occurred to me for the first time that the spiritual struggles that I had were not unique to me. Many other people had gone through these before. I could either re-invent the wheel while repeating the mistakes of others or I could learn from them. I could learn from their mistakes and once I learned their path, I could then forget it.

I felt like my approach to spirituality had been one of forgetting all of the rules to have a direct experience with spirituality. However, I had never learned the rules in the first place, so it was hard to forget them.

I decided to learn the path of an organized religion. The question was which one?

I made two lists in my head. One list was all of the world’s major religions (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc.). The other was a list of things which I felt spiritually spoke to me. It included all sorts of random things including the original Star Wars movies (especially Yoda), the book Siddhartha by Hesse and some obscure sci-fi books. When I stepped back and compared the lists in my head, I quickly saw that 80% of the things that I considered spiritual had a Buddhist theme. This was a big surprise to me, but not to those around me.

Frankly, the fact that I read the book Siddhartha by Herman Hesse almost every year since I was a teenage should have been a clear signal to me, but I had missed it all of those years.

Any ways, I went online and looked to find a good beginners book on Buddhism. I read several reviews and settled on "Buddhism for Dummies". I bought it and read it cover to cover. It was a great book to introduce me to Buddhism.

It was like a door opening for me. The first chapter explained the reasons that Buddhism is a religion and the reasons that it isn't a religion. I found the reasons for it to not be a religion very compelling:

- there is no god(s),
- the main dude (Buddha) said that he was just a person and he wasn't trying to teach a religion, but just a way to me happy
- there is no set of ways in which you have to act, otherwise you will go to hell. There are ways to act, but they are only suggestions and the intent isn't to avoid hell, but just to be happier. So if you want to be happy, then killing people probably isn't going to help.
- if something in Buddhism doesn't work, then don't do it.

The end of the first chapter concluded with the idea that it didn't matter whether or not Buddhism was a religion or not.

The next thing that got me was the description of the first teaching that Buddha gave. He talked about something called The Four Noble Truths. I was completely struck by these as deeply familiar. These were themes which I had been painting over and over again for the previous four years.

As I worked through the book one of the things that it suggested was to try meditating. Regardless of which form of Buddhism you practice, there is always a lot of meditation. So if you don't like meditation, then this path is not for you.

The book described a simple counting breath meditation. I tried it for 15 minutes (which is what was suggested). I found myself far more relaxed afterwards. I had tried many things over the years to relax and nothing had worked as well. Meditation had helped me to relax a lot, in only 15 minutes, didn't involve appointments or other people and was free.

Next, the book suggested that I find a teacher and a community. I went through the phone book and searched online for places to practice Buddhism in Victoria. Eshu from the Victoria Zen Centre answered my email.

Eshu and I got together for a tea. I was very nervous at the thought of meeting a real Zen monk, but I was quickly at ease. Eshu and I became fast friends. I went to listen to Eshu speak and met Ben. He seemed like a pretty good guy and I thought if the community was made up of folks like Ben, then it must be a good group.

In the summer of 2004, about two months after finding out the Mitra was pregnant, I started practicing Buddhism with the Victoria Zen Centre.

A few months later, Eshu, Niki and the kids came over for dinner. In the middle of dinner, Eshu turns to Mitra and says, "Eric is really into Zen. What do you think of that?"

I was immediately worried. I knew that I was enjoying my time with the VZC, but what did Mitra think? In that moment it occurred to me that I didn't know what she thought.

Mitra turned to Eshu and said, "It is great! Eric is so much more relaxed. He is easier with the kids. He is easier with me. He admits when he is wrong so much sooner. It has made a big, positive change in him."

Wow, I thought. I knew that I felt better, but I didn't know that I was acting so differently. I didn't know that Mitra thought it was so positive for me.

That was five years ago now. Buddhism has continued to be a very powerful and positive influence on my life. I am thankful for it, but probably not as grateful as those who would have to interact with me if I wasn't practicing.

My Experiences on the Victoria Street Retreat 2008

Victoria Street Retreat
July 31- Aug 3, 2008

My thanks for support and editing goes to my beautiful wife,
Mitra Remy Jordan

“The power of being out on the streets is that once you are out there for a few days, even though you still think you belong to that world you perceive around you (the middle class world of people who wear clothes like you, have a wallet or a purse, credits cars and a car),
you pretty quickly pick up that world is no longer mirroring affirmation back to you. If anything, you become invisible. It is a powerful experience which people of color, poor people, women in the work place and prisoners have been experiencing for a long time… Your references points about who you are and where you fit in the world dissolve very quickly.”

-Sensei Fleet Maull
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=Zu_phWPK-1E

CONTENTS

Introduction
Why Do A Street Retreat in Victoria?
Prior to the Retreat
Thursday -- Retreat Day 1
Friday -- Retreat Day 2
Saturday -- Retreat Day 3
Sunday -- Retreat Day 4
Sunday -- After The Retreat
Postscript: Wednesday -- Three Days After the Retreat
Vancouver Downtown Eastside Street Retreat 2007 & Victoria Street Retreat 2008

Introduction

On Thursday, July 31st, 11 people met to participate in a Buddhist retreat on the streets of Victoria. The group was led by Grover Genro Gauntt from the Zen Peacemakers Order based in New York. Genro has led over 25 street retreats in cities all over the world; of these, Victoria is the smallest city. The retreat participants were a diverse group: an equal number of men and women, they varied in age from a high school student to folks in their mid-fifties. Some had meditation experience and some did not. One participant was a full time monk living at a dharma centre. One person was wheelchair bound. Four of us had participated in last year’s street retreat in Vancouver’s downtown eastside

We lived on the street of Victoria for 4 days and 3 nights. We were only allowed to take a few items: the clothes we wore, comfortable, closed shoes (we did lots of walking), 1 piece of photo ID, bus fare home, a small backpack, a rain poncho, a water bottle, glasses (if needed), a blanket and small plastic sheet to sleep on. We left behind all the items that are inherent to our usual identity: clean clothes, watches, jewelry, money, credit cards, contact lenses (no clean place to change them on the streets), and cell phones.

The retreat had a few rules:
Sleep outside and not in shelters
No drugs or alcohol
Stay together as a group or with at least one other person
Always tell the truth -- if asked, talk about being on a street retreat

Each person will have paid a minimum of $400 to attend the retreat. This money has to be raised by asking friends and family to donate to support your participation. Two-thirds of the money raised goes to agencies working with people on the street. In this way the group compensates the shelters and other street services the group used during the retreat. One-third of the funds are provided to Genro’s group to support their activities in New York.

My description of the retreat reflects only my experience and memories. It is a powerful experience for each person on the retreat. I have avoided getting into details about the experience of others.


Why Do A Street Retreat In Victoria?

Last year I had the opportunity to participate in a street retreat in Vancouver’s downtown eastside. I went on this retreat because I was sexually abused as a child. Many of the people living on the streets have suffered childhood abuse. Attending this retreat was a way for me to explore and better understand a path which my life could have taken.

The retreat in Vancouver was very powerful for me. I knew I wanted to try the experience in Victoria, because Victoria is my home. I was born here and have lived here my whole life. I attended South Park Elementary, Cedar Hill Junior High, Esquimalt High and then UVic to get my BFA (painting). I co-founded PureEdge here and sold it to IBM here. My wife, Mitra, and I were married at the Victoria Art Gallery just over 11 years ago. Our three children were all born here and attend various schools. Now, two of my kids are attending the same elementary school which I attended as a child. My sister and father still live here and my mother died here 9 years ago.

My history is etched into Victoria. However, I have never been homeless in Victoria.

At each point in my life, I have seen the city differently. But, I have never had the chance to see the city through the eyes of those living on the streets. What does that city look like? How does my home treat people living on the streets? How can I better connect to people living on the streets of my home?

I struggle to connect with people that I see on the street. I am filled with feelings of shame, discomfort and fear. I wanted to explore these feelings and see where they took me.
Prior to the Retreat

My experience preparing for the retreat this year was similar and different from last year. Like the previous year, I had to raise my donation in order to attend the retreat. I was honored to receive support from many people. People often said, “I believe what you are doing is important. I don’t think I could do it, but I am happy to support you in doing it.”

This year, I also organized the retreat. Much of my activity in this role was similar to organizing any other event. However, something that I found very different about organizing a street retreat was how potential participants would engage. I had several people who talked to me saying that they were really very interested in joining us on the retreat. We would talk and I would send them the follow-up forms and information. Then I wouldn’t hear from them again. In the capacity of organizer, I talked to many people about the retreat and I started to believe that as a society, we struggle with our own feelings around issues of homelessness and poverty. As a result, we are rarely balanced in our responses -- we are either overly positive or overly negative. I have often noticed this kind of over-reaction in my own responses to issues that I struggle with (including this issue) and here it seemed to me that I was witnessing society’s same struggle.

I made a mala again (Buddhist prayer beads). I wrote the name of each person who had donated to my street retreat participation and put them on a string. I had 61 beads, plus one bead for Darius, Alizeh, Kiran, Mitra and other family. Darius was quite upset that I wouldn’t have my cell phone. He felt very cut off and worried. I made him a small mala as well. When I got back from the retreat, he told me that he had hardly ever taken off his mala and had even slept with it own. He had kept me close to his heart.

Five days prior to the retreat, we stopped washing our hair and shaving.

Genro arrived in town two days before the retreat started. That evening, he joined the Victoria Zen Centre meditation group at UVic. There were about 35 people in attendance. We followed the usual order of events -- three 15 minutes sessions of meditation followed by a discussion with Genro about street retreats.

Genro described how the street retreats came about. He explained how teachers have always tried to find new ways to teach students to drop their preconceptions and be fully present in the world. Street retreats are one more way of teaching. The first street retreat was conducting by a Christian minister in Chicago. He was teaching a group of students to become ministers and work in some difficult areas of Chicago. They were just about to finish when he said to them, “I have one last assignment for you. Leave all of your belongings here in the church. We will lock them up and I want you to survive on the street for the next few days.” The students left all of the things that help to define their identity and went out into the streets. The first thing they did was go knock on the doors of other churches and explain that they were ministers and ask for food and a warm place to sleep. These churches locked their doors and the ministers learned their first lesson from their street retreat. One of the people influenced by this teaching was Bernie Glassman. Bernie is a Zen monk and was inspired to use this approach to teach his students, including Genro.

The day before the retreat, Genro and I reviewed the materials that I had assembled for the group (consisting of some Buddhist chants, a map, a list of places to eat and a list of religious services). After looking over our possibilities for food, I sent a note to the group suggesting folks to arrive with full stomachs because we didn’t know if we would get dinner on the first night.

Thursday -- Retreat Day 1

We met at 3 pm at South Park School. I had chosen this location because it was easy to find, close to downtown and surrounded by nice parks where we could sit for our initial meditation, discussions and orientation. I had these ideal visions in my head of sitting in one of the near-by parks with the group meditating as we begun the retreat. However, this was not to be the case! After many weeks of nice weather, it started to get progressively wetter on the days leading up to the retreat. On Thursday morning, I woke up to an overcast day. By the time we met at 3 pm, a steady rain was falling. My hopes for how the retreat would start were quickly dashed. We gathered the group and looked for a dry to place to start and a wheelchair accessible bathroom.

We walked to the Royal BC Museum. We used the washrooms and found a sheltered place on the side of the museum. Once gathered, we did an initial 30 minute meditation and then Genro provided an orientation about the retreat. Genro gave us some helpful tips like remembering to be mindful of what is around us. In a Buddhist context, there is much discussion of being mindful as a path to living a more awakened life. However, on a street retreat mindfulness is a way to remain safe. Genro advised people to ask homeless about the best places to eat and sleep. They are the experts. Also, he reminded us to tell the truth and say we are on a street retreat.

Around 7 pm, we walked into town in a light rain. We first went to the Pandora Centre as our list of food services indicated that they served coffee, food and muffins from 7-9pm. However, they were closed and the doors were locked. We asked a few folks who looked like they might have some suggestions. They did not think there was any place open which would serve us a meal. They were also not optimistic about finding a dry place to sleep where we would not be disturbed by the police.

We walked up to Our Place, hoping for a meal. However, we were greeted by two night watchmen who let us know that Our Place closed at 5pm. We were asked to leave. A few retreat participants didn’t have blankets, but the staff at Our Place didn’t have any to share. We saw a lot of clean and dry cardboard next to a bakery. Last year, I had learned how effective cardboard is for keeping you warm and I wanted to make sure that I had cardboard for all of my nights on the street.

After collecting our cardboard, we walked down to Streetlink. By this time, it was starting to rain more heavily and we checked out a few parkades as potential places to sleep. I had never realized how much security there is around the parkades in Victoria! Not only did we have to find a place for 11 people to sleep out of the rain, but we also had to be out of sight and the spot had to be wheelchair accessible.

We arrived at Streetlink and once again, they had no food. A slightly older woman came up to the counter. She had a thick Australian accent which seemed out of place to me. She said that the food services were all shut at this time of night. She thought we were brave to be doing this a holiday weekend because there are fewer services on weekends and holidays. This was the first time that I realized the resources for the homeless and poor in Victoria varied depending on the day of the week and holidays. This is in stark contrast to Vancouver’s DTES. Last year we did the same retreat over the same holiday long weekend and didn’t notice any difference in the amount of available services.

She also said that it would be difficult to find a place to sleep where the police would not bother us. “It is crazy in Victoria. If people don’t find a place to sleep in a shelter, then they end up getting moved from one place to another all night by the police. It is hard to find a place to sleep outside where you do not get awoken by the police.” After she shared her advice, she found us a few blankets. We promised to return the blankets after the retreat.

Genro then asked me where I suggested that we sleep. It was getting late and the rain was coming down. I thought we could either walk over to the industrial area by Rock Bay to try to find a place to sleep, or walk back towards South Park. I didn’t know the Rock Bay area well and did know that behind South Park School there is a covered bike rack which might work for us. Faced with uncertainty in one direction and a place that would hopefully fit our needs in the other directions, we started walking towards South Park.

We stopped in at the Bay Centre to use the washroom again and some members of the group went to ask various food stalls for some food. I joined one person in the Starbucks. The counter person said she couldn’t give us anything twice before starting to take us seriously. We told her what we were doing and she started asking questions. Once we had talked for a while she said that she would bend the rules for us. Apparently, every night they throw out all of the left over sandwiches. She said if we come back at 10:10pm, she would give us all of the sandwiches that they had.

We arrived at South Park and went behind the school to the bike racks. The space was big enough, even though half of it had flooded. The water had run underneath the roof. Luckily, there was enough room for everyone to cram in on the other side. I looked around the school and there was someone else sleeping under the stairs at the side of the school. We tried not to disturb him.

A few of us went back to Starbucks. They opened the door and passed us two big bags filled with sandwiches, wraps and salads. It was a lot of food. One of the participants asked if she could use the wheelchair accessible washroom, but it became clear we had overstayed our welcome. We offered our heartfelt thanks and left.

We rejoined the group and together we shared the food. Normally, I am a vegetarian. However, I had learned last year to gratefully accept whatever food I was offered during this retreat experience. After eating, we all settled down to sleep. The rain was now really coming down and making quite the sound on the roof above us. It was freezing. I had a blanket and I had cardboard, but I was still really cold. I was sleeping towards the outer-edge and I could feel the occasional drip hitting my face. I slept off and on and woke up feeling very chilled.


Friday -- Retreat Day 2

The next morning, we cleaned up our cardboard and put it out of the way, hoping it would be there when we came back to sleep that night. We walked into town to try our luck at breakfast at the 9-10 Club which serves food from 8-10am. It is located by the side of St. Andrews Church on View Street. The 9-10 Club is located down some narrow stairs in a basement of the church with no wheelchair access. Our companion with the wheelchair had to wait outside while we brought her some food and drink. A few of us kept her company while the rest when in to get some food.

I had a muffin and it was just awful. I sat next to a native woman who looked like she was about my age. She leaned over to me and started sharing her thoughts about everyone in the room.

“That person over there -- him -- yeah, he is my brother.”

I just kind of looked at her. I wasn’t sure if she was making fun of me or not.

“Yeah. He is one of my brothers. Those people over there at that table -- that is the gay table. Yeah, they are all gay. Can’t you just tell?”

They actually seemed like they were regulars at the 9-10 Club. They seemed to be having a good time at that table with a real sense of community. I wished I was sitting over there.

“That guy over there. He says he wants a party and I say that I can give him a party, but he will only need 15 seconds. He is so gay. I can party.”

Pause.

“See that guy over there. He is my dad. Only he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want anyone to know. You know how it is. And that guy over there. He is my brother too. I have five brothers. They are always around me. They may not want people to know that I am their sister, but they are there to protect me. And my dad over there. He married his aunt, but he didn’t know it, so he is my grandfather too. But he didn’t know it. He is there to protect me, but doesn’t want me to say. He didn’t know about his sister. It was an accident and he didn’t know.”

Another pause.

“You know, I was too good to marry him. After all of those years studying to be a doctor, I was too good to marry him. I am fine and better off without him. I am a sensei too. Did you know how I became a sensei?”

Of course I had no idea and I just muttered something non-committal. I was really wishing I had something to eat other than this awful muffin. Why couldn’t I get some juice? I felt really uncomfortable.

“I became a sensei unconsciously. It just happened. I studied and trained unconsciously and now I am a sensei and a doctor. You see how it is.”

I didn’t see at all, but didn’t say anything. I had no idea how to connect with her. I felt like an impostor. She then just got up and left.

After breakfast, we walked back to the Bay Centre to use the washrooms. I preferred to sit outside along Government Street and so I sat on a small cardboard square while wearing my bright yellow poncho. I thought about how on the last street retreat had tried to give away love while panhandling, instead of asking for money. I decided to sit there and give away smiles. Most people ignored me, but about 10% would return my smile.

A man walked up to me. In a very gruff voice with a New York accent he asked, “Are you homeless?”

I was startled and still tired from the previous night. I didn’t reply right away.

“Are you homeless?” he asked again in an irritated voice.

After a second I responded, “No. I am on a street retreat. We live on the streets for 4 days and 3 nights as part of a spiritual retreat.”

“Well, do you need any money? Do you?”

“Yes.” I responded. I took off my hat and he dropped in two quarters. It was odd that he gave me the money, given he seemed quite gruff and impatient with me.

Last year, I had panhandled twice and I had received a total of 1 used root beer can. Here in Victoria, I had already gotten $.50 and I hadn’t even asked.

A little while later, I saw someone that I knew from my time as a student at UVic. We were never very close friends, but we would always smile at each other. He saw me sitting on the pavement and smiled at me, as he always had. Then he realized what I was doing and a look of shock and horror crossed his face. He quickly looked away and walked rapidly past me.

Finally, we went to Our Place. As I walked off the street into the courtyard, I felt myself tense up. I had heard so much about Our Place, but have never been there. I walked in and it felt like I was back in the downtown eastside. It struck me that this was a culture that I was entering. It was a defined culture with its own dress code, language and code of behavior. I had never thought of it as a culture. I had thought of it as a symptom of other problems in our society. For the first time, I realized that it was a culture which had a right to exist. Who was I to try and “fix” this culture? How would I know how to fix this culture? This was a culture of people living in a way that they both choose and don’t choose, much in the same way that I live in my culture -- both consciously and unconsciously.

I sat in the courtyard at Our Place and talked to one of the volunteers. We talked and I don’t think she believed that I was part of a group on a street retreat. She thought I was living in a fictional world with my wife and three kids waiting for me to come home. I am not used to people thinking I am crazy. Normally people believe me when I talk, but not any more.

Soon, lunch was served. We went up stairs to the dining area. It was a very well laid out place. As you come up the stairs, there is a place to wash and dry your hands (very smart -- something I have not seen anywhere else in Victoria or Vancouver). There was a line for food. The person in front of me was completely inebriated. He was so pleased that he had just bought these $400 leather cowboy boots. He had lost some boots before and he was never going to take these off. As we got our food handed to us (chicken soup and a salmon sandwich with one sad piece of lettuce), he asked for another sandwich. He stood there at a forty-five degree angle asking for another sandwich while his soup ran out all over his plate and soaked his first sandwich. But they would not give him another sandwich.

I sat at a table across from a clean-cut man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. He told me about how he had found an apartment. He was living at Streetlink, but his 30 days was almost up. He was really happy to have found a place to live. Now he wanted to get a job and join a church. He said he had been in Vancouver in the DTES, but that he had been with the wrong crowd. He moved to Victoria because he needed to change his life. We talked about how change really comes from making a decision to change. I enjoyed his company. Once he was done, he wished me well and we smiled at each other the few other times I saw him during the retreat.

Next, the group went to Beacon Hill Park to take a nap. Everyone was feeling pretty tired from the lack of sleep the night before. The sun was out and it was a nice day. We found a quiet and relatively private area. I lay down and went right to sleep. It seemed like only a moment when someone touched my foot and I jumped up in surprise. I was quite startled! It was time for dinner.
We went back to Our Place, because it would be closed on the weekend. We thought that we could visit Streetlink and Salvation Army over the weekend (little did we know!). We arrived at in time for dinner. I got a plate of rice with a meat sauce and lots of cooked peas. I sat down and thought of something one of the other participants had said. He had talked about coming to terms with his inner street person. Who would I be on the street?

After this, we separated into two groups. One group went to find a candle. Our group tried pan-handling. We spread out, one person per block along Government Street. I ended up at the corner of Government and Yates. I have often seen people pan-handle there, so I thought it might be a good spot. I sat down and once again tried giving away smiles. I didn’t ask anyone for money. A woman came up to me and recognized the mala I was wearing around my wrist.

“Is that a mala? I made 500 of those and gave them away to people on the street last Christmas.”

She had greeting cards for sale and wanted to sell me one. I explained that I was on a street retreat and didn’t have much money.

“Well, you just have to have one, my dear. I am off to India and you don’t have a chance to get another one”

I put my hand into my pocket and took out all the money I had -- about $2.37 -- and held it up to her. “This is all I have.”

She leaned in and took $1. Briefly, I felt quite angry because this was almost half of my money! The feeling soon passed and I chose a card. Her cards were made using Japanese brush work. She complimented me on my meditation posture as she left. It was quite surreal.

A short time later, a man slowed down as he walked by. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to ask for money. I just smiled at him. I think I looked like an idiot, just sitting there smiling. Still walking, he reached into his pocket and threw a $2 coin at me. He almost hit me in the head! I was startled and surprised. I thanked him as he sped away.

After this the full group gathered at Streetlink. We waited there until a group called CART came. They are a Christian group (I can’t recall what the acronym stands for) who have a cart that they move around on Friday nights, giving away stuff. They had underwear, socks, candy and a little food. I got an extra pair of socks and a fortune cookie.

When we got back to South Park, we discovered that someone had taken all of our cardboard. At first, we were worried, but we easily found the cardboard in a large recycling container beside the bike racks. It was pretty easy to open the container enough to reclaim our cardboard. It was cold, but not raining. I had brought some free Gay Pride newspaper from the corner store. I crumpled the newspaper up and filled my clothes with it. It felt odd, but definitely warmer. There was one part on my butt that got really cold. I just couldn’t get really comfortable, lying on cardboard on pavement, with my blanket and using my Acetech backpack as a pillow. I tossed and turned.

In the middle of the night, I heard a woman screaming. At first I thought it was a good scream, but then I heard an edge in the scream. I sat up. One of the others sat up too. We went over to Genro, who was wide awake as well. The three of us went to investigate. We came out to the street and saw a police car, a police van and an ambulance. We couldn’t see what had happened and didn’t want to get to close. The screams had stopped and the cars were getting ready to drive off.



Saturday -- Retreat Day 3

That morning, we went into town to have breakfast at Kirk Hall. Breakfast was run by St. Andrews Church this week. We went right in and sat down in the large hall. Breakfast was french toast, ham, a banana and a small square of cheddar cheese. The cheese looked oddly out of place but it was good and I was hungry.

I sat there enjoying my breakfast when someone sat down at the piano. They started playing beautifully. It was one of the other folks who had come for breakfast. They had finished and now played wonderful music for everyone. I commented on it to the person next to me. He mentioned that there were a few folks who were good at the piano. He pointed out another fellow who later came up and started playing. He was even better than the first guy. The music got me talking to the person next to me, an older person who had been coming to this church’s breakfast for a long time.

“One of the richest churches in the world and they can’t serve us seconds.”

He pointed to a well dressed woman in black, sitting a few tables over surrounded by homeless.

“See her over there? She is one of the wealthiest people in Victoria. She came to Victoria as an immigrant with nothing and now she is wealth. Made it all herself. She is a member of this church and never misses a breakfast. She is really nice.”

One of the volunteers spoke with me as I was getting a cup of tea. She asked how I was doing and where I had slept. I told her I was cold, having slept outside and that I was looking forward to returning to my bed in Oak Bay with my wife and kids. As we talked, I could see her wondering if I was delusional. I talked about the street retreat and after a little bit, she seem to decide that I wasn’t crazy. She took me over and introduced me to the Reverend of the Church. We had a great conversation. He had heard of street retreats before and was interested in potentially participating in one with us sometime.

After breakfast and meditation in the church cemetery next to Island Blue Print on Fort Street, we attended a service at the synagogue downtown. One of the participants was a member of the community. I have never been in a synagogue before and was glad to share the experience.

After service, we decided that instead of getting lunch at 11:30am (Streetlink) or noon (Salvation Army), we would eat the early dinner (3:30 pm.) at Streetlink and the check out the Hot Dog Night at the Mustard Seed Church (at 7:30pm). We arrived at Streetlink at about 3:20pm and all the tickets for the 3:30pm dinner were gone. We also learned that Mustard Seed was not having a Hot Dog Night because of the long weekend - it was looking like no lunch and no dinner for us!

Genro suggested that we try going to the market in Bastion Square to see if we could get any fresh produce. The market was closing, but it was nearby. We hurried over and the folks selling the produce were just finishing up for the day. The person I was with explained our situation and right away they said yes. There wasn’t any hesitation. As they gave us 3 big flats of vegetables, one of the owners started to recognize me. I thanked her for the food and explained that Mitra and I had eaten there many times. It was nice to make the connection after they had already made their decision to be so generous.

After this, the group split up into a few smaller groups to go see if we could get some more food to go with our vegetables. I went off with another group member. She had a very good feeling about a nearby restaurant, but they said that they couldn’t give us any food. They explained that it would break health code regulations and it wasn’t their fault, but they just couldn’t help us. I resisted the temptation to argue.

The next restaurant said no. Our third restaurant was very interested in giving us some food, but the manager was not there. Instead, we got some toothpicks for the group. Toothpicks are a great find when you haven’t brushed your teeth in a few days.

The fourth restaurant that we passed did not look promising. Regardless, we asked and the owner just stopped us in the midst of our pitch and said yes. He brought out some wonderful fresh curry and rice. It was a lovely surprise.

As we made our way back to the main group, we saw someone collecting bottles. He had a shopping cart with an old dog in it. I offered him our bottles. He explained that he was trying to earn enough to sleep in a hostel. He has a friend from high school who owned one of the hostels and she let him shower and sleep there, if he had enough money. I thought there would be lots of bottles in the Bay Centre, but he told me that he couldn’t go in there, looking like he did and with his dog. I told him we would collect bottles for him. He showed me a hiding spot he had in Bastion Square. He asked us to collect the bottles and then hide them there for him.

Two of us went into the Bay Centre with an empty black garbage bag to collect bottles. We started on the ground floor, looking in each trash can. This time, I was sticking my hands into the trash can to collect the bottles and cans. It was really hard to do. I am so programmed to not put my hand into a trash can that I had to remind myself, “these hands have touched worse while changing diapers.”

When we had just about finished the bottom floor, one of the sales clerks came over to us with two empty water bottles. He handed them to us, warning us to be careful not to get caught by security. They were nasty today, he said.

While watching for security, we searched through the trash on the remaining levels. We saw two security guards and followed them from a distance. We could keep them in our view and continue our collecting. By the time we were done, we had a garbage bag full of cans and bottles. We dropped them off in the hideaway and hoped our new friend would get them. Another aside: I saw this same person a few days after the retreat. He said that he had safely found the bottles and he thanked us.

After the group came back together, we headed down to the park by the whale wall to have dinner. This is an area that I have stayed away from because it is not safe. We sat down in the park and were just getting ready to eat when one of our group suggested that we offer our food to folks around us. There was a young man up on the street that we saw looking in an old pizza box for food. We called him down and he joined us.

In total, 6 people joined us. One of them had a guitar and played great music. Some of the tunes were originals and some were from Pearl Jam and Nirvana. A woman in a cowboy hat sat next to him and sang. The one song that really stuck with me was her version of “Polly” by Nirvana. The song is about a woman being held captive and tortured. What makes it really chilling is that the song is from the perspective of the person who has captured her. She changed the lyrics, using her own name instead of Polly. Listening to her great voice sing this haunting song about her torture was really creepy. At the end of this write-up, I have included the lyrics to the song, for those who do not know them.

After I had eaten enough to take the edge off, I went to join the young “pizza box” man. He was sitting a little out of the circle and seemed disconnected. I brought some tomatoes and water to share with him. We started chatting. He was in his early 30s. He had been up at UVic studying Economics and Political Science. Based on how he talked, I didn’t doubt him. He was clearly a smart guy who was quite articulate. He said that he decided living on the street might be a way to learn more than being in university. He had thought he might make a video or write a book about the experience. Now that dream seemed a long way off. He had been on the street for two years. For the first while, he had resisted the constant offering of drugs. He had good times and bad times. However, when one of his bad times got much worse, he discovered crack and had been hooked ever since.

When we arrived back at South Park, our cardboard was where we had left it. Five of us walked back into the city to share a large hot chocolate at McDonalds. That night four of us stuffed our clothes with Gay Pride newspaper. We looked like cartoon superheroes with all of the stuffing. I slept okay that night, but not great.
Sunday -- Retreat Day 4

I woke up early the next morning. I was looking at some painted rocks that my daughter’s kindergarten class had done when someone pulled up to the front of the parking lot, got out of their car, unlocked the gate across the lot, pulled into the lot and finally, got out of his car. I walked up to him and said, “Hi there. It is cold out, eh? Do you work at South Park? My daughter goes to school here.”

In a very guarded voice, he said, “I am with district.”

“I am on a street retreat. We live on the street for 4 days and 3 nights to better understand homelessness. There are 10 more of us sleeping behind the school by the bike racks. I am pretty happy because later today I get to go home to my wife and three kids.”

In a low, deep voice he said, “Well, I am a retired Navy Seal. I have slept on the streets of every god-damn shit-hole on this planet and it is no fun. I hope you have learned that.”

Then he went on to add, “You should know that there is going to be a meeting here this morning. It is a big meeting in about half an hour with lots of principals and teachers. They are not going to like seeing you and your friends. You may be on a street retreat, but they are going to call the police. They’ll get scared so you need to leave now. This is not a threat, it is a warning.”

So I woke Genro, telling him it was time to leave. But once I realized what time and day it was (6:30am on Sunday morning on a holiday long weekend), it seemed unlikely that there was to be any meeting. In any event, we cleaned up our make-shift camp and left the bike rack area cleaner than when we had arrived. When we were about a block away, I saw two police cars drive past us. I really wanted to go back and see if the police had gone to South Park, but everyone was cold, hungry and in search of coffee. We walked through town and there wasn’t much open.

We were standing in front of McDonalds downtown, when a woman walked by. She was in her mid-teens. Her eyes were smeared. She was dressed like a 6 year old in a purple, frilly dress. She had a “My Little Pony” backpack on and was clutching a stuffed “My Little Pony” to her chest. She looked like she was in rough shape and wondering around in a daze. She walked past us a couple of times. One of the women on the retreat approached her to see if we could help, but she said she was fine and just walked on.

We walked over to Centennial Square to use the bathrooms. It was odd watching the security guards and the drug dealers each doing their jobs. I had three different people come up to me to sell me drugs. Genro asked me to look at the list of church services to find one for us to attend and we found First Metropolitan United Church on Balmoral Road. They had an early service (9 am) and their listing said, “All welcome.” We figured that we could put that to the test.

The service had already started when we walked in. They were happy that we were joining them and compared us travelers to the three wise men. We didn’t have time to explain that we were on a spiritual journey. I didn’t know how bad I smelled. In spite of this, the church community welcomed us with open arms. I found the service to be particularly moving. I have only been to a few church services before and I had never enjoyed them. I didn’t want to like them. Having found a door into spirituality through Buddhism, I found a way from that spiritual place to connect to the church like never before. It was a very powerful service that brought tears to my eyes. As I sung the various songs from the hymn books, they resonated so powerfully with my experiences over the past few days. The service reached out to all groups, regardless of race, religion or location. I was very touched.

During the service, there was an older woman sitting next to me. She was dressed in her Sunday best and she reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother. I realized how much I missed my grandmother and how I hadn’t connected with since I had started publicly talking about my sexual abuse. The abuse has divided my family. I have found it so difficult, that I have intentional cut myself off, instead of continually dealing with the division. I was filled with a deep sense of loss sitting in the church. I vowed that I would reconnect with my grandmother, whatever the outcome.Sunday -- After The Retreat

Once the retreat was over, we returned to our homes and cleaned-up. People then came over to my house for a final get together. Mitra set out lots of great food. There was a BBQ and we all had a chance to connect one last time before people left. It was nice to meet the other people in the life of those on the retreat (partners, kids, parents, etc).

Last year, I had showered before coming home. This year I walked straight home. I must have smelled so bad. The kids could barely get close to me and Mitra would only give me a small kiss until I had cleaned up. Darius put on a filter mask before hugging me.

I noticed how much I enjoyed have a choice of food. On the street, I ate what I was given with little choice. In the shelters, you got a plate of food and that is what you ate. It was so nice to have choices again about what I wanted to eat. I found myself having a little bit of lots of different foods. I wasn’t really that hungry; I just so enjoyed having a choice!


Postscript: Wednesday -- Three Days After the Retreat

Since the retreat, I have been downtown a few times. I have seen folks that I met in the food shelters and on the streets. I have enjoyed chatting with each of them. I have felt so much more connected to a part of my home which I previously felt cut-off from.

One experience really struck me. I was on my bike on lower Fisgard Street (just up from Streetlink). I heard a woman sobbing. She was clearly in a lot of pain. I turned around and rode my bike down to her. She was walking past people sitting outside having their coffee and tea who seemed oblivious to her. I stopped to talk with her.

She said, “I just wish people wouldn’t be so mean to me.” She asked for some spare change and I gave her $20. She started crying again and I held her. She sunk into my arms and I held her there on the street, while I felt the eyes of those sitting nearby. Her face was bloody, she was dirty and I held her as she sunk into my arms. When she had stopped crying, she stood back. She thanked me and told me that normally she looked much more beautiful. I smiled at her as she walked off.

I would not have held her before I had participated in a street retreat. I acted differently after the retreat. For me, this is the most important thing. The reason that I attend the street retreats is not to learn or to think differently. The reason that I attend is to deeply look into my emotions and to act differently.


"The essential difference between emotion and reason is that emotion leads to action while reason leads to conclusions."


Vancouver Downtown Eastside Street Retreat 2007 & Victoria Street Retreat 2008

Last year I had the opportunity to participate in a 4 day and 3 night street retreat in the DTES. This year I organized a street retreat for 4 days and 3 nights in Victoria.

Amount of Resources and Availability of Resources
When comparing the downtown eastside (DTES ) in Vancouver with Victoria, there are clearly more resources in the DTES. Obviously, there are far more people to serve in the DTES. To compare, in Victoria the listing of places to eat is 1 page long. In the DTES, the listing is 5 pages long. One of the impacts of this is that there are fewer opportunities to find a place to eat in Victoria and it you miss your chance, you are much less likely to find another place to eat. In Vancouver, if you miss a place, you can just move on to the next food shelter. In Victoria, if you miss a place, then you will probably not get to eat.

In Victoria the resources close much earlier. For example, dinner for non-residents at Streetlink is at 3:30pm. Dinner at 3:30pm in the afternoon? By 5 pm pretty much all of the resources are closed. On the weekends and holidays there are even fewer resources in Victoria. In Vancouver, we held the retreat over the August long weekend and there wasn’t any noticeable difference as a result of the weekend in terms of the availability of food. In Victoria, there was definitely less food.

An interesting comparison is the number of opportunities that we had for meals on the two retreats. Assuming that we had a normal 3 meals a day, there was an opportunity for 8 meals over the course of the 4 days on each retreat (given that we started at 3 pm on the first day and ended at noon on the last day). In the DTES, we were able to eat 8 meals at food shelters. In Victoria, we were only able to eat 4 meals in food shelters.


Blankets
This is another interesting comparison between the DTES and Victoria. In the DTES, we asked at one place for blankets and they gave us 10 blankets. In Victoria, we asked at several places and we only able to collect 6 blankets in total (a few from Our Place and a few from Streetlink).


Sleeping Outside
In the DTES, people sleep outside. It is more accepted and you are not hassled by the police. In Victoria, people should not sleep outside. You are hassled by the police.


Religious Services
In the DTES, all of the places that we ate at provided sermons before our meals. In Victoria, all four of the places that gave us food were churches, but none of them made us sit through a sermon.