Category Archives: Homelessness

Canada’s Affordable Housing Crisis

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Sliding stock markets, sinking commodity prices and retracting of the global economy.

The news is filled with stories of clouds hanging low over the economy, of turmoil and unrest, political disenchantment and economic disaster.

And so the world spins.

I spent Wednesday last week at a roundtable meeting on Canada’s affordable housing crisis. We met with hopefuls running in the Federal election — 2 Green Party candidates at the first session. 6 Liberals at the second. 5 NDP at the third. The Conservatives did not turn up.

Sponsored by the CHRA (Canadian Housing and Renewal Association), our goal as organizations involved in homelessness and housing is to raise the issue of Canada’s affordable housing crisis on their agenda, and thus, to make it into a national conversation this election.

The candidates who came were passionate, committed and interested in learning more about the issues surrounding housing and homelessness. And, they wanted to ensure we understood why their Party is the one to vote for.

Though the NDP has long fought for a national housing strategy, it is the Green Party who has taken concrete action this election by announcing on August 25th the Party’s plan to invest in social and affordable housing.

Yet, even in their statement, there is evidence of their lack of understanding of the depth of the issue, and the causal factors that lead to homelessness.

In the media release that The Green Party distributed on their proposed National Housing Strategy, Lynne Quarmby, an electoral hopeful is quoted as saying, “The leading cause of homelessness is poverty.”

Not true.

Homelessness is first and foremost a result of governments (all levels) failure to plan and action a housing strategy that would make available, safe, secure and affordable housing at a scale that is aligned to meet the needs of the population.

Homelessness is an outcome of what we have done to create it.

Since the 1990s, with the withdrawal of the federal government’s investment in affordable housing, provinces and municipalities have struggled to respond. In their report on The State of Homelessness in Canada 2014, authors Stephen Gaetz, Tanya Gulliver and Tim Richter state: “Declining wages (even minimum wage has not kept up with inflation in any jurisdiction in Canada), reduced benefit levels–including pensions and social assistance – and a shrinking supply of affordable housing have placed more and more Canadians at risk of homelessness.” (Source Document) 

The report goes on to state:

“The rise of modern mass homelessness in Canada can be traced directly back to the withdrawal of the Federal government’s investment in affordable housing and pan-Canadian cuts to welfare beginning in the 1980s. In 1982, all levels of government combined funded 20,450 new social housing units annually. By 1995, the number dropped to around 1,000, with numbers slowly climbing to 4,393 annually by 2006. Over the past 25 years, while Canada’s population increased by almost 30%, annual national investment in housing has decreased dramatically, by over 46%. In 1989, Canadians contributed, through taxation, an average of $115 per person to federal housing investments. By 2013, that figure had dropped to just over $60 per person (in 2013 dollars).”

Homelessness didn’t happen because a whole bunch of Canadians decided they didn’t want to stay at home. It happened because they did not have access to the resources and affordable housing they needed to live at home.

The Green Party’s release also states that Canada is the only OECD member without a national housing strategy.

Not true.

Most OECD members do not have a national housing strategy. What can be stated is that Canada has a rate of social renting less than the average of any other OECD country. Canada does not do a good job of taking care of its vulnerable populations. As an example, rental households most in need of support are female-led lone-parent families, seniors living alone, aboriginal families and recent new comers to Canada. (source)

A comment often heard when talking about homelessness, and one stated by one of the Green Party candidates, is that we are all one pay cheque away from homelessness.

Not true.

We’re not all one pay cheque away. Most of us have resources, and an inherent resiliency that can sustain us longer than one pay cheque should hard times hit.

That’s because, most of us are not forced to continually make decisions between putting food on the table, a roof over our heads or school books in the hands of our children. Most of us have had the privilege of being able to build lives that fulfill our dreams and allow us to feel like productive members of society. Most of us have had relatively easy access to the resources we needed to get an education, job training, health care and health supports that ensured we have what we take for granted; the daily comfort of knowing we are at home, secure and safe in our world.

For those living on the margins, whose lack of resources and limited resiliency are impeded by social policies that do not provide access to adequate income and/or housing, tough economic times call for them to do what they’ve always done. Dig in. Hunker down. Keep existing. Keep going from one door to the next hoping to find access to the resources that truly will make a difference between having nothing, and having the opportunity to lead their children, and themselves, out of poverty.

Unfortunately, for the one in ten Canadians Statistics Canada reported as living in poverty after the 2009 recession, they’ve been down so long, there is no upside to their economic situation, no matter where the world is at. No matter the economic times, vulnerable populations remain vulnerable in the face of scarcity and plenty. Unless, we do something different.

What can you do to make a difference? Join in the conversation. Help raise affordable housing onto the national agenda. When a federal candidate comes to your door, ask them, “What do you know about Canada’s affordable housing crisis?” And then ask, “What do you and your party plan to do about it? How can I help?”

Addictions Treatment: Is it all about the money?

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In his provocative and compelling TEDGlobal Talk on addictions, journalist Johann Hari says, “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection.”

Titled, “Everything you know about addictions is wrong” Hari suggests the research has it all wrong. That what we do to the addicts in our world is not working because we haven’t looked at the other ways that do work.He cites the case of Portugal which has de-criminalized all drugs from Marijuana to Heroin and is experiencing dramatic results as a case in point.

His talk is engaging, but it’s also depressing, writes Doug Chaudron, formerly of Toronto’s Centre for Addiction and Mental Health and author of Theories on Alcoholism. In his response to Hari’s TED Talk at The Progressive Economics Forum, he writes that there is nothing new in what Hari is suggesting. The addictions recovery business has seen the research and known that there are alternatives that work better for decades.

” The depressing part is that the research (e.g., Alexander’s Rat Park) and the conceptual alternatives he discusses have been well known in the addictions business for decades.

…Equally, even more, depressing is that the concepts have not “penetrated” the addiction-treatment industry. For an equal number of decades, research has shown that: shorter treatment is as effective as, or more effective than, longer treatment; outpatient treatment is as effective as, or more effective than, inpatient treatment; treatment by modestly-trained counselors is as effective as, or more effective than, treatment by heavily-trained experts; and brief interventions are as effective as, or more effective than, extensive and intensive interventions. But the treatment industry continues to prescribe long-term, intensive, inpatient treatment delivered by highly-trained experts.”

Chaudron’s conclusion is as depressing as what he says about Hari’s talk.

It’s all about The Money.

Go figure.

A billion dollar recovery industry is all about the money.

We could do better. We choose not to because… money talks.

The voice of money is louder than the voice of 10% Albertans who live with an addiction.

The voice of money is louder than doing the best and right thing for those suffering from addictions. And while Hari has not discovered a new understanding of addiction and simply repackaged old information, the fact is, as Chaudron says,

“research also leads to the discovery that the less-effective forms of treatment involve the making of more MONEY by their providers than the proven alternatives. Surprise, surprise…”

Regardless, Hari’s TED talk is worth watching because in the end, it’s not about the addiction it’s about people, relationships and connections. It’s about our ability to be compassionate and our ability to LOVE.

It’s Just Breakfast

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Researchers have determined that we come into this world with two fears: The fear of being suddenly dropped/let go of. The fear of loud noises.

Everything else we fear is determined by early learnings and life’s happenings.

Napoleon Hill said that fears are nothing more than states of mind.

Often, when asked, ‘What is your greatest fear?’ people respond with, ‘Failure’.

I wonder how many great accomplishments never happened, how many songs were never sung, stories never written, paintings never created, cures never discovered, destinations never reached, achievements never achieved because someone never took the first step. They feared failing before they even began.

My father used to say that asking someone to help you, or to help you take the next step on the road to getting what you need, gives you a 50/50 chance at Yes.

Not asking gives you a 100% chance at No.

So often, we wait for the right answer, the sure thing, the perfect moment to attempt to do something.

In our waiting we lose the moment of possibility.

Every moment is the perfect moment to live our dreams, to step forward into possibility. To create. To build. To do.

Several years ago, my friend MK had an idea for a project whereby business people met, one-on-one, with individuals with lived experience of homelessness for breakfast. Because the business person has the financial resources, they bought breakfast. No matter who pays, both individuals shared stories of their lives. Shared a meal. A conversation. A moment in time.

He believed it was a great opportunity for both parties to learn from each other, to share breakfast and over that meal to create opportunities for understanding, common ground, compassion while creating opportunity for a host of other human conditions to be explored and expanded.

No expectations. No commitment. Just breakfast.

He tested it out with someone staying at a homeless shelter.

They really liked his idea.

He took the next step and brought his idea to someone with the power to make it happen who worked in the homeless serving sector. At the time, his idea was pooh poohed. Not possible. Too many things can go wrong, he was told.

He held onto his idea.

Recently, at a meeting about the mock election being organized this September for individuals living at shelters, I mentioned my friends idea to a co-worker. He was intrigued.

Tomorrow we have a breakfast meeting with MK to talk about his project, “It’s Just Breakfast” in more depth.

The possibilities are limitless. Sure, there are no guarantees it will move forward. No sure thing of how it will succeed. But that doesn’t matter.

What matters is my friend has not given up on believing, on taking action on his idea, on moving it forward.

In the intervening years he’s done lots of other things, created lots of other possibilities. But this idea still called.

He’s answering its call. He’s taking it to the next step. He’s taking action and in his action, who knows what wonders he’ll create? Who knows what lives he’ll touch, what possibilities he will open up?

He does know if he does nothing, his idea will die a lonely, unfulfilled death.

He does know that if he lets that first ‘no’ be the final one, we wouldn’t be having breakfast tomorrow.

And in the end, “It’s Just Breakfast”.

After breakfast, who knows what possibilities will open up in our day?

If we don’t take that first meal together, we do know, nothing will happen.

Now it can.

What words can do.

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They can be like a sun, words.
They can do for the heart
what light can
for a field.

-St. John of the Cross, Love Poems from God (trans. Daniel Ladinsky)

I read the words above this morning in an email from Abbey of the Arts and felt my heart break.

Open.

Open to the possibility of words shining light, of my heart lighting up in the possibility of what can happen when the sun shines through the cracks, through the darkness, through the unknown.

We use words. Every day.

We use words to build relationships, to tear down walls and sometimes, to tear apart one another.

We use words to create bridges, to cross paths, to reach beyond the gaps in what we know to see and hear and feel and understand what another knows.

Sometimes we use words as a means to keep one another apart, separate, distant.

Sometimes we used words to connect to one another, closer and closer until all there is between us is the common ground upon which we stand and build a new way of being together.

Yesterday, I spent the day in a leadership retreat with my peers at the foundation where I work.

The day was filled with words.

Words that expressed ideas, that opened up or shot down positions. Words that connected us, that bridged our differing perspectives that lead us from one strongly held position to another place where we could see there is perhaps another way, another space to fill up with new ideas, new possibilities.

Words are the tools we use to find common ground, to hold our ground, to stay stuck or to free ourselves to hear and see and understand differing perspectives.

Words allow us to connect to one another, whether we agree on the differing positions we cling to or they hold onto, or not.

Words hold truth and lies. Words hold positions of right and wrong. Words open up or close down possibility.

Words are our tools to create and our weapons to destroy.

Words are the language we use to create openings for the light to shine on where we stand.

Words are the language we use to block the light from getting through.

Yesterday, we met and used our words to explore and assess and share our thoughts and ideas and beliefs and fears on the future of the Foundation.

We used words as the language we needed to carry us into the known, and the unknown territory of our five year planning. Words helped us see the ground upon which we stand, and the path to where we want to go.

It was a day of discovery, of exploration, of aha moments and at times, laughter.

And, no matter what words we used, the common denominator was our agreement to use our words to create better, to create more, to open up understanding, acceptance and heartfelt sharing that would allow our words to be heard and honoured by one another.

There is truth in everything and not all things are true.

No matter how strongly worded our assertions are, the truth is always, we each hold positions. It’s how we use our words to defend our right to do so that can make a difference between a world of embittered defending of where we stand or a world of tolerance, compassion and kindness that allows each of us to stand confidently and lovingly on the ground beneath our feet as we find the words to move forward together.

Today is day 2 of our leadership retreat. I’m excited to see the words we share evolve into a path to creating a future where homelessness ends for every Calgarian, every day. A path where all Calgarians find their way home to being at peace with where they’re at, unafraid of what tomorrow will bring because no matter what tomorrow may bring, they know they are safe at home today and everyday.

Namaste.

Stampede has come and gone. yahoo.

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For another 365 days, the Calgary Stampede has ridden off into the sunset. It will return. Make no mistake. It is an institution, a part of our Calgary culture that rides in every year on the first Friday of July to spend 10 days reminding everyone, residents and visitors alike, of our wild west roots planted deep into the prairie soil and our cowboy heritage ridin’ free on the range.

And as we don our blue jeans and cowboy hats, with Stampede comes the contradictions and the disparities woven into our social fabric. A man leans against a lamppost too drunk to walk another step. Another vomits on the sidewalk oblivious to the mess he’s making for someone else to clean up. A hundred dollars lets you jump the line-up at Cowboys’ giant beer tent on the Stampede Park if you don’t want to wait the 3 hours to pay the $30 entrance fee the hordes are waiting to pay to gain entrance. Amidst the midway rides and flashing lights, a fight breaks out on Stampede Park and three men are taken to hospital with stab wounds, one of them in serious condition. A car rolls over on a city roadway, alcohol plays a role. A threesome have sex on the street near a favourite downtown Stampede watering hole, and the city is polarized in its response.

And I walk down the street towards my office one morning, stepping over empty beer cans left by late night partiers, listening to the sounds of a live band entertaining the folks who’ve come out to enjoy free pancakes and bacon at the annual Stampede Breakfast kitty-corner to my office building. They are ubiquitous, these Stampede Breakfasts. They appear on every street corner and parking lot throughout the city over the course of the 10 days of Stampede. They speak of community, of people gathering together to share a meal and conversation and good spirits in the morning.

I am enjoying the music as I cross the street towards my office building. My thoughts are on the community-spirit of Stampede when I spy a man lying on the sidewalk. He is oblivious to the noise and frivolity. He is lying silently on his side, eyes closed as I approach.

I kneel down and ask him if I can help.

“Do you want me to call the DOAP team?” I ask. DOAP stands for Downtown Outreach Addictions Program. It is operated by Alpha House and provides mobile assistance to help vulnerable persons in our community get to a safe place.

The man lying on the sidewalk nods his head yes.

While I wait for the team to arrive I try to engage the man in conversation. I want to keep him awake. “What is your name?” I ask.

“Michael” he mumbles. “I want to go to Alpha House,” he adds.

“The DOAP team is on their way,” I tell him.

He looks up at me. His eyes are dark, red-lined. He licks his lips.

“Let me die,” he says.

My heart stops for a moment. I feel his pain. His sorrow. His despair.

“I can’t,” I tell him.

“Let me die,” he repeats.

And I am saddened.

His roots are buried deep into the prairie soils. His roots are native to the wide open plains that surround our city. They run deeper than the cowboy trails that brought white settlers westward long ago paving over centuries of First Nations roaming proud and strong and free on these lands.

No more.

He lies on the hard, cold concrete that covers the lands where once his forbears rode free and pleads with a stranger to let him die.

And on the other corner, country and western music blares, bacon sizzles on the grill and sweet maple syrup runs freely onto pancakes as Stampede revellers enjoy breakfast in the sun.

“This land is my land, this land is your land.”

And no where in these lands is there a place for Michael to find a road back to his roots. Buried beneath generations of cultural genocide precipitated by white man’s journey across these lands we call home, he has lost himself to a past he cannot remember and does not dare to see.

Yahoo! Stampede has come to town reminding us of our heritage. For 10 days, cowboys and cowgirls roam the streets partaking of the wild west parties and celebrations of our past. Forgotten are the buffalo ranging free and warriors riding proud and strong who fell beneath the weight of our desire to own the lands they once roamed free.

There was a man lying on the street. He reminded me that not all our history is built on the proud conquest of the wild west. It is also built on the conquering of the people who once claimed this land as their land.

 

 

Feeling lucky.

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The C-train is pulling to a stop in the station as I validate my ticket in the machine at the top of the stairs. I quickly take the time-stamped ticket from the slot, stuff it into my pocket and start racing down the stairs. I am halfway down as the doors open and then close. I figure I won’t make it and slow to a walk when I see the driver smiling up at me through the plate glass windows of his cubicle. I race down the stairs, smile and wave my ‘thank you’. He opens the doors, I get on and the train, carrying me and all the other passengers, moves on.

“I’m so lucky!” I think.

Later, I am talking with a co-worker about my experience at Shelter from the Storm on Saturday night. I was reminded how much I miss the people in that place, I told them. How much I miss the daily connection with the people for whom we are holding the vision of ending homelessness. (I worked at the shelter for 6 years prior to joining the homeless Foundation where I work now).

I could never work there, my co-worker said. I’d get so immersed in fixing what was wrong, I’d sink under the weight of the task.

What if there’s lots right? I asked.

In 2006, when I started working at the shelter, I started an art program that became the foundation of many art’s based initiatives throughout the shelter.  When we first set up the program, I had the participants, all clients at the shelter, create the Rules of Conduct that each person had to sign in order to use the studio. The rules included things such as no food in the studio, leave your personal baggage at the door, find a way to get along with the other artists and honour the space and those who use it.

Every so often, clients would come to the studio upset about something they felt had gone wrong with someone else whose conduct did not measure up to their ideas.

“I’m never coming back to the studio if they are,” and they would name the person whose behaviour they found so objectionable.

And my response would always be, “That is your choice. You get to decide whether or not you come to the studio, or not. You get to decide to work out this situation, or not. If you enjoy coming to the studio, is it worth finding another path to resolve this situation than to walk away?”

Inevitably, they would find another path, or not. It was always their choice.

I was not powerful enough to fix the situation or the relationship with another person or whatever angst they were carrying.

None of us are that powerful.

The power we carry is the one that can make changes in our own lives. Changes that will create different ripples, different paths to living the life we always dreamed of and in the process, empower us to hold doors and spaces open for others.

 

I raced to catch the C-train yesterday morning. The driver held the train, just for me. I felt lucky.

It wasn’t luck. It was because I met a fellow traveller who believed in his power to hold doors open for others so they could get where they were going smiling and feeling lucky.

What a wonderful gift he gave me!

There would have been another train behind that one and I would have taken it. In his gift though, I was reminded that we all have the power to hold doors and spaces open for one another. In the ripple of our actions, other lives are impacted in ways we never could imagine.

Let’s all hold doors open for one another today! Imagine the miracles we can create for one another!

 

 

 

 

Shelter from the Storm.

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Shelter from the Storm Calgary Drop-In & Rehab Centre

Shelter from the Storm
Calgary Drop-In & Rehab Centre

“You picture in your sympathy their life of only pain
And unlike you and what you do they have never tasted fame
Be careful with your presumptions brought on by another’s dress
There might just be a forgotten jewel behind the eyes of the homeless”
Behind the Eyes of the Homeless
Lyrics & Music by Lenny Howel

Homelessness is a place of loss.

Loss of home. Loss of belongings. Loss of job, money, family.

Homelessness leaves you yearning for a place where you can be accepted, however you are, however you’re at in the way that you are when you walk in the door, if only you had a door to walk through.

Often, we think homelessness is about a lack of belonging or connection. It’s not.

There is a community in homelessness. A community where people connect over their shared human condition and find themselves feeling hopeful once again that maybe this place called homeless will not last forever. Because in this place you know, people see you, watch out for you and are looking out for one another.

On Saturday night, I found myself in that place where community runs rich and deep. That place where community celebrates our shared humanity exactly where we are, exactly the way we are when we walk through the doors – The Calgary Drop-In & Rehab Centre (The DI).

The occasion was a ‘house concert’ like no other. In front of over 100 guests seated in the multi-purpose room turned music hall for the evening on the sixth floor of the DI, the clients, staff and volunteers who have participated in the six month long song-writing initiative, presented their finished pieces. “Shelter from the Storm” was the inspiration of DI staff members, Michael Frisby and Steve Baldwin over a year ago. For the past six months, under the guidance of Calgary singer, songwriter, actor and former Poet Laureate and Artist in Residence at the DI, Kris Demeanor, the participants explored the meaning of song and its ability to draw us closer, to cross barriers, to build community and build bridges between the hearts and minds of humankind.

I was in awe. Moved. Brought to tears. Laughter and joy.

I was reminded once again about what community truly is. It’s not about the homes we live in secure behind guarded gates, or the cars we drive in that separate us from the noise of the streets. It’s not about designer labels that set us apart or the money we acquire to fill our desires.

Community is about people. People coming together to share and explore and support one another, where ever and however they are at, on this shared journey called ‘life’.

On Saturday night, I was embraced in the warmth and care of the community that is the Calgary Drop-In & Rehab Centre and I was reminded that miracles are all around us. That we are all mysteries to one another and we all have this human capacity to shine bright, even in the darkest spaces.

The evening adventure began as I drove onto the DI property. An orange t-shirted volunteer guided me to my parking spot. Another smiled and guided me to the entrance for the event through the underground parkade. A volunteer manned the elevator. I didn’t know if he was a client or a general volunteer from the host of thousands who support the DI every year. All I knew is he was happy to see everyone who walked onto his elevator for the ride up from the basement entryway to the sixth floor. He wore a leather top hat, a tailcoat and sported a smile that could melt the ice around the most stubborn of hearts. In the brief seconds it took to ride up, he had everyone laughing and feeling like there was no where else to be but on that ride to experience, “Shelter from the Storm”.

I had the gift of witnessing humanity shining brightly on Saturday night. It was at a homeless shelter. A place where in most people’s eyes, despair, deprivation, lack are the only things people share.

At ‘Shelter from the Storm’ the things that were shared are beyond price, beyond label, beyond quantification.

At ‘Shelter from the Storm’ I witnessed human spirits rising high. I felt surrounded by the love that comes when people set aside their differences to find, there is no such thing as ‘us and them’. There is only ‘us’. One humanity giving and sharing and finding the songs that break us wide open to see, we are the same kind of different, unique, beautiful and magnificent in all our human conditions.

Huge kudos to Michael Frisby, Kris Demeanor and all the clients, staff and volunteers as well as the donors and sponsors who made ‘Shelter from the Storm’ move from just an idea into possibility. You are amazing.

Kudos also to Sled Island for having the vision to include this incredible event in their programming.

Thank you.

Hope: the ultimate un-guide.  Beyond hope lives possibility!

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Hope banner copy

We spoke of hope yesterday. Of hope and possibility and new paths and new directions.

We celebrated what was and opened doors to bright new futures.

Ready to go!

Ready to go!

The kick-off for Aurora on the Park and Providence House, two new affordable housing projects for formerly homeless Calgarians went without a hitch.

The dignitaries arrived, the guests crowded around the stage and the media stood by and listened and learned and felt drawn into the possibilities and hope of the future for all 49 people who will call one of the two buildings home sometime in the future.

And through it all, the sun shone, the birds sang and people felt optimistic and engaged in what we can do and are doing as a collective to end homelessness.

Alan Norris, President and CEO of Brookfield Residential and Chairman of the board of the Calgary Homeless Foundation and the RESOLVE Campaign summed it up well when he said that the 11 homebuilders who were there representing RESOLVE are competitive in their day jobs but very committed and collective in their desire to work together to make a difference in our city.

And as I stood and watched the crowd and listened to the speeches and took care of any details that needed addressing, I too felt the hope and optimism, the sense of possibility that filled the air around us.

Getting to this moment, where all the pieces came together to create such an exciting and successful event takes a lot of hard work and a lot of people.

I am blessed. I have an amazing team around me. Darcy and Aaron who so generously give of their time and talents. Wendy and Paul who also are gracious and giving. It is because of them and their efforts the day went off without a hitch.

Sure, as with every major event where you are working with many parties to create the desired outcome, there are those moments when all you want to do is throw up your hands and look at someone and say, “Really? You think that’s important or necessary right now?”

Those moments make me smile. They remind me of my human condition. That thing that connects all of us, that thing that keeps us all humble and striving to find new pathways to working together, to getting the job done, to doing it collectively.

Yesterday, as I watched and listened, I felt proud.

Proud that we as a city have a shared vision of ending homelessness.

Proud of our Mayor as he spoke of excellence and vision and commitment and what it means to work collectively to create a great city for everyone.

Proud of the other dignitaries who spoke and shared their support and kudos for all we are doing to make a difference in the world.

Proud of the media for turning up and documenting the events.

Proud of the communities of Hillhurst Sunnyside and Crescent Heights who were open to the possibilities these two projects respresent and welcomed them into their communities with such grace.

Proud of the artists of This is My City who created such a masterpiece as the yarnbombed house which we all stood in front of yesterday to celebrate the beginning of the new developments.

Proud of all my co-workers for turning up and being part of the event, for bringing their best to support what we are working to achieve together.

Proud of the RESOLVE team for caring so much about how the day went, how their donors were treated.

Proud of my team and the fund development team at CHF for giving their hearts to creating a day that truly did touch hearts, open minds and set possibilities for a better future, for all of us, free.

Proud of a stranger named Pedro who lives down the street who came back with his camera because he’s a documentary film maker and he wanted to record the events for us as a gift.

And proud of everyone who came and stood in the hot blazing sun and took a stand for building homes for those who have lost their way.

I felt hopeful yesterday as I listened and watched.

I felt honoured, inspired and humbled.

What a great day!

 

 

 

 

HOPE: The Ultimate Un-guide. There is hope in hopelessness

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Hope banner copy

It was a week of hearts breaking open, sadness pouring out, sorrow lifting up. It was a week of self-love pushing away hatred, peace embracing anger, forgiveness cascading over resentment.

It was a week of hopelessness transforming into hope, of possibility awakening in the depths of despair, of new life breathing deeply into the darkness that once held hearts frozen in fear.

It was a week coaching at Choices.

And I am grateful.

I am often asked why I volunteer so much time coaching at Choices.

There is so much value I receive by staying involved with the program.

It makes my life and all my relationships better.

It keeps me using the tools I’ve learned through the program so that old habits don’t break down new ways of living life on the far side of my comfort zone.

It helps me stay on track, accountable, and present in my life.

It gives me a chance to give back.

It keeps me connected to people who want to create a world of difference in their lives and in the world around them.

And then, there is the very real and simple reason I experienced this week.

It reminds me that there is hope and possibility for change in every life. It reminds me that in a world filled with darkness, there is light.

On Thursday afternoon last week, I received a call from a former co-worker at the homeless shelter where I used to work. He told me someone I know had been killed. A suspicious death, the police termed it. The investigation into who or what killed him continues but for Ryan Delve, all hope of finding another path to live his life without fearing each step would lead him deeper into the darkness of homelessness died on Thursday, June 4, 2015.

It was the end of his road.

Ryan was an artist. I wrote of him last year when he participated in an art show I helped organize and he chose to donate a painting to the silent auction we held in support of Alpha House, a shelter here in the city.

Like all of us, Ryan had hopes and dreams and a fervent desire to live better, live well, live beyond his past.

Like all of us, Ryan knew what it felt like to lose at love, to be hurt by another, to be lost in confusion of where to go next.

Like all of us, Ryan knew joy, laughter, sadness, despair, anger, fear, peace, love…

Like all of us, Ryan lived his human condition as best he could, doing whatever he could to get from A to B with the tools and resources he had available.

Like few of us, Ryan knew the homeless experience. He lived it. Every day. Even when he was housed briefly over the past year, the shadow of homelessness clouded his world, luring him back to its darkness.

When I heard the news of Ryan’s passing I stood in the hallway outside the room where the trainees were deeply into a process and felt the heaviness and futility of homelessness sink into my heart as quickly as a stone falls to the bottom of a well. My heart felt heavy, tight, constricted.

I asked a friend who was also coaching to chat with me for a moment. I needed to make sense of the senselessness of it all.

My friend R.A. asked if he could say a prayer for Ryan. I said yes.

In that moment of standing with my eyes closed, holding loving thoughts of Ryan and all those who live in the darkness of homelessness in my thoughts, peace descended.

It is true. I could not change the path that Ryan was on, just as I cannot change the paths of the thousands who live on the streets, in shelters, and on the margins of our society.

I can add my best to what we as a community are doing to make a difference to change the trajectory of homelessness into possibility. I can hold space for those who are walking the streets to find their way back home.

And, I can walk every day in peace, love, harmony, joy.  I can create space for possibility to arise, for hope to stay present, for change to happen. I can add my best to what so many others are doing to ensure we do not lose more people to homelessness.

And to do that, to hold space, to hold onto possibility, to create opportunities for change and not become burdened by the heaviness and sadness of homelessness, I coach at Choices.

At Choices I am reminded every day that there is hope, possibility and light in the darkness.

I am reminded that hearts can break open in love, that anger can flow free through forgiveness and that darkness always gives way to light.

I believe we can end homelessness, just as I believe we can create a better world for everyone.

To do my part, I must give my best. To give my best, I must surround myself with people who remind me every day to find value in all things, to live my truth and stand up for what I believe in.

We are all one in our human condition and when we share our light together, when we shine as one, as brightly as we can, the darkness fades, hope arises and possibility opens up in all our lives.

 

 

 

 

Ending homelessness. If this can happen, what else is possible?

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Next Tuesday, June 9th, from 3 – 7pm, the Calgary Homeless Foundation will be inviting the public to join in the kick-off of construction of two new housing projects , Aurora on the Park and Providence House. These 24 and 25 unit apartment buildings will become home for formerly homeless Calgarians. Part of the RESOLVE Campaign, they mark another step, many steps, forward in our collective vision of ending homelessness in Calgary.

There is a lot of hope around these two buildings. A lot of belief in the future, the possibility of lives changing, homelessness ending.

For the kick-off event, we have contracted This is My City Art Society to yarnbomb the entire house. For two weeks, artists and volunteers wrapped afghan blankets and skeins of wool around the building and its fixtures creating an art piece that not only draws attention from every passerby, and is also encouraging people to come from other parts of the city to take a look at, it also signifies what can happen when a hope becomes a dream, becomes a possibility, becomes reality.

The finished art piece is incredible. The house is all wrapped up in beauty, whimsy and a sense of warmth and hominess, ‘just like grandma’s’, as one reporter said in his TV piece on the house.

More than grandma’s, this house, and the building that will eventually be home to 24 people who will live there and be supported through each step away from homelessness, represents hope. Hope for a better quality of life. Hope for a better future. Hope for change that makes a real difference.

This project is all about hope.

Ask someone with longterm lived experience of homelessness what kept them mired in that place of no fixed address and they will often reply, “I had no hope anything could be different.”

It is a common refrain.

“I gave up on hope while I was homeless.”

Homelessness, by its very nature, is filled with loss.  Your belongings. Home. Family connections. Friends. Job. Life as you knew it is lost.

And then there’s the other losses which are harder to measure, more difficult to see, even though they are felt deeply by those experiencing them.

The loss of hope. The loss of believing you can create different in your life. The loss of knowing where you belong. The loss of feeling accepted, worthy, part of the greater world out there just for who you are. In homelessness, you lose your ‘things’. You also lose your sense of self.

While at the house on its final day of yarnbombing, I was speaking with one of the artists with lived experience of homelessness. He told me about finally getting a place of his own, a year ago this week. “I hadn’t realized until I sat back in my own living room and started counting the time I was homeless how long it had been,” he said. “Seven years.”

What kept you there (at a shelter) so long? I asked.

“I lost all hope,” he replied.

Each day became like the last. Every day predictable, even in all its uncertainty. If it was Sunday, the dinner was this because volunteer group A came in on Sundays and prepared the meal. Monday, it was group B. He could go to work at some temp job, get paid a fee and know, hoping for anything different was futile. He had no hope. How could things be different?

There was no sense to hope for anything different, he told me. It was always the same old, same old.

And that included the feelings of losing your sense of self, of your own worth, competency, ability to create change. Like hope, it evaporated with every passing day until without even counting down the days, the light was gone and all hope of ever finding your way out of the darkness vanished.

How did you eventually get out? I asked.

It was through art. Through connecting with This is My City Art Society and getting involved in their initiatives, he began to see another path, another way.

With every streak of paint from a paint brush, with every bit of creation and connection made with the world beyond the shelter, hope came alive.

On Tuesday, June 9th, we will kick-off the construction of 49 units of housing for formerly homeless Calgarians. There are two buildings in different communities, both of which have embraced the idea that ending homelessness begins in their backyards.

In 2008 when Calgary’s Plan to End Homelessness was launched, there was only a hope that this could happen.

Today, it’s a reality.

We cannot give up on hope.

If this can happen, what else is possible?

Hope banner copy

This is still part of my Ultimate Un-guide series. Ending homelessness is all about holding onto the hope that it is possible, and then, taking action to create the possibility.