I just shared a poignant conversation with Sean, who is sleeping on the street in San Francisco tonight.
He asked if I had a lighter. I did, and I asked if I could sit down beside him, in his bed pile of cardboard and soiled blankets. He consented.
I lit his cigarette and sat. He had a beautiful nose-piercing that reminded me of a beautiful partner. And he cried, unsolicited. I supported his wrist with my hand, like a tiny hug.
He said he was here to get the evil out of the city, that he was here to bring all the people back together in San Francisco. And he cried at the pain of cops being hurt, and of people hurt by the system. He empathized with everybody. He was a Christian too, he shared.
I told him about Zouk. A forbidden Brazilian partner dance. How it reflected the qualities I see evolving in myself lately: intimacy, vulnerability, leadership, followership, touch, and magic.
He asked how partners do magic together. I told him I couldn’t quite explain it, and squeezed his forearm.
“I can feel the goodness in your heart. You’re doing a good job. Thanks for sharing this evening with me.”
“Thank you for your service.”