From the Road. He has been a familiar site for days at the corner of his Hollywood and Vine. Always playing his six string and humming a tune. They just call him The Beggar Man. Some days I would leave him alms and others I would share my lunch. Never sensed he was a disturbed or troubled man...just a man without wealth nor health. He always had a smile for all as that passed, even those that seemed to be living a life of strife. On this day I offered nothing but asked Beggar Man if I could I sit with him a spell?
He nodded and smiled as I sat next to him on the sidewalk. Tried to hum his tune but from his look I could tell he was a one man band...I listened...he played...I saw many stories in his head, as he played and I listened. If you really listen... he was playing and humming The Philosophers Stone. "It's a hard road, even my friends don't know, And I am searching...searching for the philosophers stone."
His blue eyes gleaming under the brim of his hat...
We just looked at one another as we sat...
How hard is your road my friend...
Where do I start, where do we end...
"You like Van Morrison?" I asked. He replied, "I like the song."
And so it was on that day we both belonged...
That two souls received for more than just a song...
In a brief moment we shared what we thought had gone...
And little kindness to each was shown...
I have returned to that space on the sidewalk now for over two months, and I wonder if my friend may have found his Philosophers Stone. I leave you this my dear friend...
Out on the highways and the by-ways all alone
I'm still searching for, searching for my home
Up in the morning, up in the morning out on the road
And my head is aching and my hands are cold
And I'm looking for the silver lining
Searching for the philosophers stone
Up in the morning, up in the morning
When the streets are white with snow
It's a hard road, it's a hard road daddy-o
Up in the morning, up in the morning
Out on the job, well, you've got me searching for
Searching for, the philosophers stone
Even my best friends they don't know
That my job is turning lead into gold
When you hear that engine drone
I'm on the road again and I'm searching for
The philosophers stone
It's a hard road, even my best friends they don't know, I'm searching, searching for the philosophers stone-Van Morrison
Be well Beggar Man...you gave kindness, for nothing in return.
His name is...Rufus
As I walked the beach this morning, in the distance I observed a memorial service to a fallen soldier. I have seen weddings, family reunio...
That is an awesome story. I wrote a shorty narrative about homelessness and people that live in shelters. I was in one for almost two months when I moved to Maine...it's a long story, but the pain is the same for all of the homeless. Whether it's because they have mental issues, their house burned down and no insurance, a loved one died...no insurance, alcoholism...they are lost and alone. Most of them loose heir families because they are ashamed of them. They need us, one kind soul, no matter the price they had to pay, from an abusive childhood, to the Vietnam Vet, not one of them were happy about being homeless, or in a shelter. So, thank you for this, and the reminder. The Philosopher's stone can only be found when love arrives, whether for himself, or feeling worthy in the arms of acceptance.
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