Reconciling a new adventure

A couple of months ago I walked past a man taking a shit in the street.

Needless to say he looked scruffy, dishevelled. He was crouching in a strip of dirt, alongside the last of a line of small shrubs planted along the footpath. Elastic-banded tracksuit pants were around his knees, his back supported by a smooth concrete wall.

I spotted him from a few metres away. He didn’t care. He finished his business, stood and pulled his pants up in one gesture, and walked right by without so much as flinching.

But beyond just a small pile of shit in a garden bed, he left something else behind. An overwhelming sense of sadness.

He didn’t mean to. From his actions, his demeanour, his very aura, all he meant to do was relieve himself, and all he intended to leave behind was that pile of shit.

But for me that only made it sadder. It wasn’t disgust that I felt, nor was it pity. There was an element of shock, but it didn’t last. The sadness, however, lingered.

I walk that street often. Many do. Eye Street NW, in the heart of Washington, DC. It’s not a bustling stretch of pavement, but it’s not quiet either, particularly during business hours on a weekday.

For me the good coffee is down that way from my office, and the three block walk provides a welcome stretch of the legs on a sunny afternoon. The garden bed he chose, the wall that supported him just so happened to be the World Bank building. I don’t think it was intentional, but the sense of irony was too much to bear. The fact I carried a tray full of coffee for my colleagues and was sipping on one of Filter’s strong flat whites only made it harder not to laugh at the building sense of despair.

The shit remained a handful of days. I felt compelled to check each time I walked past. And check again each time I walked back, coffee in hand, leather shoes squeaking. Then one day it was gone.

The memory, though, is a lot harder to clean up, particularly as the weather cools. This will be my first full winter in Washington, a city which has already confronted me with its issues of poverty, inequality, and homelessness, yet has simultaneously inspired awe with its atmosphere of global significance, its intellect, its sense of power and its progressive aspirations.

How do you reconcile that image?

I know I am not the first person to be confronted by the dichotomy of DC, nor will I be the last. But I feel it could define my stay here. I may be able to insulate myself from the coming cold, but how do you insulate yourself against the despair, against the plight of people literally struggling to survive in a city overflowing with lofty ambitions?

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I wrote this a month or more ago now, but didn’t feel right about posting it straight away. I wanted to finish it first, provide some sort of conclusion.

Over the past month the weather has turned colder still – we had our first sprinkle of snow a few weeks back, and there have been plenty of cold, long, miserable nights outside. But the number of cold, miserable people stuck outside hasn’t dissipated.

I have lived through cold winters before – Edinburgh, Seoul – but never with this overbearing cloud of poverty and disadvantage mingling with the descending cold.

As far as I can tell, there is no conclusion. There is no way to drag this issue upwards towards some reassuring warmth. I may return to a cosy apartment each night, but there are thousands who don’t, who can’t.

Reading back on my last post on this blog, more than 18 months ago, yearning for new adventure, I find a certain irony that this is where I now find myself. On a new adventure? Most definitely. In the past 18 months I have married, moved across the world, and dealt with many of life’s more extreme highs and lows.

But, compared to my carefree jaunts through Europe and my exhilarating journeys through the beautiful back country of Australia, this adventure feels more defined. Carefree, it is not. Rather, there is some sense of responsibility beginning to slowly seep in, a sense of purpose.

That’s not to say this new adventure can’t be fun or spontaneous or enjoyable. It can, and it is. But it also feels like it’s time to start using this adventure to contribute, to give something back to society, to the community, to my family, friends, and all those around me.

It’s a scary feeling, sometimes overwhelming (especially when it comes to issues like homelessness). But it’s also liberating in its own way. Rather than merely discovering and absorbing all the world has to offer, I am now trying to discover what I can offer in return.

Sadly, I don’t think I can offer a comprehensive fix for DC’s homelessness, although I wish I could. But, as with everything, it begins with awareness of a broken system, of disadvantage, of injustice; and a sense of purpose, a duty to explore what can be done, even on an individual level, to make a difference and give something back.

So let’s see what happens next.