Hello world!
Things are going great with Challenge Detroit so far! For our upcoming challenge, the fellows and I will be using design thinking to provide COTS (Coalition On Temporary Shelter) with some innovative solutions to help solve some of their organizational challenges. I was doing some research on COTS’ website and discovered that their tagline is: Hope. Help. Housing.
This reminded me of a musing I wrote a while ago about the challenges of this city, homelessness and hope. I wanted to share my writing with you in hopes that it inspires you. Enjoy!
excerpt from A GEM, written in September 2009
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As I continued my walk, I ran into an abandoned lot. This building, carelessly boarded up, slumped on the street corner emitting a sense of emptiness. Peering through the entrance created by the wood board and what appeared to be a hole, all I could see was darkness. Directly next to this building was an empty yard. This patch of land was covered in tall, untended stalks of pale yellow and brown grass. It was my surprise to find that, in contrast to what I’d previously thought, the stalks were not desolate. In the thick of this brown grass, grew weeds and wild flowers. In the midst of this mass of dry, harsh brown bush stood the alluring grace of soft purple petals. Bees danced amongst the violaceous magic. The sound of the blossoms seemed to whisper a soft laugh amidst the tickle of a warm Detroit summer breeze. Again I was at ease but more over, I was inspired; inspired by the ability of those flowers to grow in such a place. Flowers which, unlike those surrounding the houses on Greenfield, were not cared for by little old ladies nor were they aided by the gentle trickle of streams from watering cans. No, these flowers had persevered amongst the harshness of their environment. In their bravery, I found beauty; a beauty I had not seen elsewhere. As I continued my walk down Woodward, I ran across more abandonment and in this abandonment I found more beauty; more new reasons to smile. Then something profound occurred, it smiled back.
The man reeked of what could have been eight years of urine, blood, sweat, saliva and tears. His clothes all appeared brown, although at one point his shirt may have been red, his shoes may have been white, and his pants may have been black. His greasy brown skin had obviously been through more than mine, as it had many scars and cracks. His nails were crooked, dirty, and black, as if he’d scratch the film off of a freshly laid bed of tar. In every crease of his rough palms, which gently swayed at his sides, I could see old settled layers of dirt. The man’s body had obviously not been cared for in a long time. But that speaks nothing about his spirit, which despite his appearance, was noticeably lighter. Undeterred by the bitterness of his story and the apparent neglect in his life, this man parted his large dark swollen lips, and smiled. Though his teeth were crooked, stained, and void of any whiteness, the sight was enlightening. This man (whose appearance was the epitome of desolation, loss, and abandonment) had enough of something in him which had allowed him to smile. I returned the smile but felt that my gesture was nothing compared to what he had shared with me.
What that man had shared with me was the same thing that was given to me by the purple flowers. What was given to me was a sense hope. Hope is not something that exists amongst rows of perfectly mowed grass. It doesn’t exist when life is going “the way it should”. No, hope is a brave and rare form of beauty. Hope exists in the glimpse of light reflected from a piece of broken glass, a gem, that shines against the darkness of an empty church and reminds you that happiness is temporary but so is adversity. What a gem he is missing, him who hasn’t walked this path.
Photo Credit: Knuls