I hit the city

Well, this experiment has been less awkward than I thought it would be. For now, at least.

I decided to start slow, got a dress and a dildo and went out in the streets of Antwerp. People mostly laughed, and so did I. It felt as if I was looking at myself. And I looked ridiculous. 

I think it has a disarming quality to it. People don't think about themselves when they see some guy walking around in a dress and a dildo strapped to his head. And because I was able to look at myself as a different person, it felt kind of disarming to me too.

It was fucking cold though. So I got some stockings, or tights, whatever they're called. 

A group of Dutch people came to talk to me. 

"You're not going to a party, are you? Does this have some kind of purpose?"

"Well, I'm supposed to walk around like this until I reach the point where I absolutely don't care what other people think of me anymore."

"Ah, awesome! Life only begins when you stop caring what others think about you! Success with your project!"

Awesome people. 

I wonder what else is in store. I can feel that talking to people isn't really that much of a problem. Looking like this, whatever you say, you can't really make yourself look worse...

Ah, another day, another experience. I'm tired right now. Gotta get out of this dress.

Good night, everyone.

A slight change of plans

Alright,

I had a couple meetings yesterday regarding my film. It seems most of my teachers are afraid I can't handle this project. They may be right. After all, I am in my last year for the second time because I didn't finish my film last year. 

Now, this is largely due to the fact that this truth-seeking thing is a bit new to me. Only last year I started discovering parts of the truth I had been longing for. And it kept changing and expanding, and I had to keep changing the idea for turning this quest into a film. I'm still not sure whether it CAN be translated into a film. But I do love film. And I do love truth-seeking. So I don't really I think I have another option.

That being said, I have made an agreement with my promotor. If by the end of next week, I don't have some promising material for the film, or I feel this project is going to crush me, I will put a stop to it. For the time being. I will find another subject for a film and do that instead.

I have other ideas for films, of course, I just feel they are not as important to me as this project.

However, this project is not an easy one. It's hard just to do these things for yourself, personally. It's alot harder to also distance myself from the project, and look at it as a director to make sure it is filmed in the right way.

This means I have to get my shit together. I have decided to deviate a bit from my original planning. I have to have some tangible results (both personally and professionally) by the end of next week.

This means I will start with the dress-and-dildo mission right now. It leaves the most space for improvisation and correction, and will probably help me get the film on the right track. 

I'll be able to constantly evaluate the progress and the content and style of my film. 

There, I'm off now. I'll just grab something to eat and then it's time to put myself out there.

I'll check in tonight to post an update.

Dying before you die

I've been listening alot to Eckhart Tolle lately. I have most of his audiobooks and talks on my mp3 player. In fact, it's all that's left on my mp3 player.

Now, the truth he speaks about seems to speak to something inside me. I suspect this to be my true Self. Sometimes I catch brief glimpses of it. Or rather, IT catches brief glimpses of ME. That's what it feels like for the moment. I know I'm still very much identified with my mind and life situation. That's why this presence feels alien to me. 

However, when I listen to Tolle long enough and try to be in the NOW, I realize, on some level, that this awareness lies deeper and is much more important (dare I say 'absolute'?) than the thoughts or beliefs I have about this world. Things like "the map is not the territory" gain a much deeper meaning. 

Most of the time I can't seem to connect with that awareness though. First I get frustrated.Then I get angry. Then I get scared. Then I tell myself that nothing is really that important, that nothing really matters. But this turns into laziness, which then frustrates me again. And I get so caught up in all this clutter that I cannot see the truth. 

And then I heard him talk about a form of meditation called "Dying before you die", practiced by Sufis. And something clicked. It made sense. You come to peace with the fact that your mind and body, and with it this material world, will come to an end. You will die. You will be forgotten. And everything you ever accomplished, everything you ever created will be lost.

With this means is that you allow your ego to die before your time in this world is actually up. All your fears will disappear. You will no longer take life so seriously. You would come to peace with what is.

The only problem is that the ego built the world we inhabit. Our society, our culture, our cities and streets, our moral values, our literature,... The ego takes credit for it all, and therefore wrongfully assumes that it is what you are. It will not go down without a fight. 

And that's something I'm realizing now. All my excuses, all the ways in which I stall this project is the ego fighting back. It does not want to die. 

I have had some experiences in my life where I came close to the destruction of my ego. And it fights back with all it has. Confronted with the possibility of an all-encompassing awareness, the ego turns loose it's most deeply rooted fears.

I remember, I saw the universe for what it was, I saw my life for what it was, and I saw myself for who I had 'pretended' to be. I saw the possibility of endless beauty. Of something so profound it cannot be described in words. But as soon as I saw it, the ego convinced me it was evil. 

I felt a fear beyond anything I have ever felt before or after. I clawed my face to feel if I was still there, to see if reality as I knew it still existed. I saw all the people I ever loved getting angry at me for trying to find the truth. They were crying, and I felt awful. I thought I was actually dying. Then I thought I had gone insane. Which was quite possible. I ran outside, sweating, crying, frightened. 

And I 'got myself together'. 

I got a hold on myself.

But I realize now that was a mistake. Maybe I wasn't ready for it yet, but I haven't been able to forget this experience ever since. It is what brings meaning to my life. I will never stop searching for the truth. 

For a long time I thought something was wrong with me. I lived my life like I thought I was supposed to, as was expected of me. But I realize now that this constant desire, this longing for death, is not something sick, twisted or macabre. 

It is my true Self shining through the cracks of my broken ego. 

The ego is a wall and it must be destroyed.  

I just have to find out how.

I feel like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff. I can see the abyss in front of me. I look into it and I know that the abyss is where I belong. I AM the abyss. I know I have to take the leap.

But something is holding me back. There is a part of me that doesn't want to take the leap. It CAN'T take the leap. It will die. I have to leave that part behind, but it won't let go. It's afraid to say goodbye. 

From now on, my meditation sessions will be geared toward dying before I die. 

I hope one day, others will learn from my death.

A new mission

I have decided to meet up with Thierry and Monica on thursday or friday. I'll talk to them and let them explain things in front of the camera.

Then next week, instead of living in the streets of Brussels, I will live like a tramp, and 'walk the earth'. Maybe I'll try to cross the country, it's not that big after all. This way I'll be able to focus on my goal and meditate.

Hopefully the rest of the country is less violent...

Sammy signing off.

Troublesome night, a conclusion.

I'm going to be really honest. That's what this is about.

I went home after my first night out in the streets. I'm not proud of this.

However, there was a very real danger in staying there. And I have to take that into account. After all, I am making a film, and if I am seriously injured, or die, the chances of finishing this film are somewhat slim. Also, I will not have proven much. Not to myself, and not to anyone else. Except that I made a mistake.

I've decided to go back to meet up with Thierry and Monica, talk to them and take a tour of the dark side of the city. I don't think I'll be living among them anymore. 

The main purpose of these missions is to let go of my sense of identity. But this mission was a bit too much to begin with. I had a bit of an elastic snapback effect. I tried to break a barrier, but instead the barrier flung me back into fear. I was scared. I was confronted with myself, my own fears, and my stupidity. I saw the core of fear in my identity, which may be a good thing to begin with, but I did identify with it. Otherwise I wouldn't have gone home.

So maybe I'm a pussy. Maybe I'm a faker. Maybe I try to act tough now, because I never really have, and I think I look like a pussy. I'm not sure. At least I'm making an effort to change. No one else is gonna do it for me.

Maybe I should start a little more slowly. Then again, maybe not. 

On that note, if anyone knows about underground fight clubs in Belgium, let me know. Otherwise I'll have to pick fights with total strangers, which again might be a mistake.

It probably is. 

Well, time for some meditation. 

Now go experience life. Oh, and watch "Into the Wild". That's what it's all about.

The first night, trouble ahead. Part 2

"Why are you here?"

"I am here because I want to experience life more fully. More real. I force myself to do this, because it is not part of my identity. I want to find my true self."

"Your true self? You want to find yourself, your identity out here? In the streets? 

Let me tell you something: all you will find here is misery, violence and disease. That's it. 

You will not find any friends here. You will not find any colleagues. You will not find life, and you will definitely not find yourself. 

What is your name?"

"Samuel."

"I am Thierry. This is Monica."

Monica sat down and mixed some vodka with lemonade. Their pregnant dog was walking around on the square. Thierry took out a cell phone and turned on a ring tone. Some annoying 50 Cent song. We drank vodka and talked about life on the streets. 

I felt like a hypocrite. What would I learn about this life in a week? They told me about all the tragedies. Losing friends to the cold. Fighting for a spot of your own. Knives, scars, diseases. Trouble with the cops. And their enemies, the junkies, who they claimed worked with the police to make others' lives more miserable. 

Around 6 in the morning they suggested we move to the subway station, because it was cold, raining and windy. I tagged along.

There were 2 other homeless people sleeping in the station. Apparently this spot also belonged to Thierry and Monica, they didn't seem very happy with the company, but there were cameras there, so they stayed calm and we sat down against a wall opposite the others. 

The calm did not last very long however. When yelling did not wake the other guys up, they knew they were junks. They were right. There were needles strewn across their general area. Monica decided to check one of their backpacks and found a can of dog food. She took it, opened it and fed her own dog. Then they proceeded to loudly express their anger towards the junks. 

Suddenly, no less than 8 cops entered the station and came over to us. 

"We heard yelling. Is there a problem?"

Thierry quickly replied.

"No, no problem. We are good people. But these junks are ruining everything! 

It used to be cleaner here, these guys leave all their crap wherever they go! Look at this, needles everywhere!"

The cops calmed him down. And then they just left. They didn't care about any of us. Nor did they care about the junks.

Monica then decided to check the junks' pockets. They didn't react at all. She found some drugs which she just threw on the ground. They didn't have anything of value at all.

Then they woke up. It took them about 5 minutes to sit up straight. Thierry was not happy. He told them to fuck off. The junks didn't seem to understand.

"Did you not hear me?!? Get up, take your shit and get out of here!!!"

The junks slowly started checking their stuff.

"Did I tell you to check your stuff? Get out now!"

One of them ran away. Thierry got up and started kicking the other one. He grabbed him by the throat: "You ruin everything! Where are you from? You're not from here! Go back to where you came from and keep your drugs there!"

The junkie was getting scared. He took his backpack and started walking. Monica kicked him back: "Where do you think you're going? Clean up your spot first! I'm not doing it for you!" 

The junkie went back and took his blankets, whatever else he had lying around and started walking away.

He stopped at the entrance to the station, looking around for a different spot. Now Thierry was getting really pissed. He took the bottle of vodka and a nail clipper and went after the junkie. 

He started hitting him in the head. The junkie ran up the stairs, Thierry followed him and kept hitting.

I got up and wanted to follow them, but Monica told me to stay and watch the dog. So that's what I did. I sat back down on my sleeping bag, the dog joined me.

I started watching the people that had been passing all along. Everyone was taking the subway to get to work. To start the day. And here I was, sat down in a filthy corner with a dog that wasn't mine. 

I could feel the isolation. The world of the homeless really is a different world. A world largely hidden to the main public. When you are in it, you feel it. You don't matter. People look at you like you're not a real human being. Just something to ignore.

After a couple of minutes they came back and told me to follow them. We went down to the subway tracks, jumped a little gate that led to the tunnels, and entered a maintenance room hidden behind some big iron sliding doors. 

This was one of the creepiest rooms I've ever seen. There was only one lightbulb hanging in a corner. We went down some stairs and found cardboard already laid out across the floor. So we sat down. 

By this time Thierry and Monica were getting drunk and agitated. They were getting angry at me. Telling me to go back home, talk to my family, take advantage of the chances I get. I can sense that these are people that have lost everything they ever owned, and everyone they ever loved. And they think that my being there means that I do not appreciate family or friendship.

Monica gets upset:

"You still don't get it, do you? This is not your world, you do not belong here! Do you want to end up like us? Because if that's what you want, I'll show you what this life is about. I'll take you for a tour of the city, and show you a side of it you haven't seen before."

I was hesitant. I understood that these people went through a lot, and that this life was no laughing matter. But I had learned enough in one night.

Monica was now screaming at me, getting in my face, and waving her arms furiously. 

"Do you see where we are? Give me 2 minutes, I'll lock that door, put a knife to your throat and take everything you got. No one will hear you scream. You'll be so scared you won't be able to defend yourself when I kick your naked ass unconscious. And when you wake up, I'll be long gone with your stuff, and the cops will be here to arrest you for trespassing and whatnot."

Thierry had gotten up and tried to calm Monica down. 

"Go home! Do you understand? If you stay here one more night you will regret it. If I see you again, I'll treat you like any stranger and maybe stab you, just so you understand that this is not where you belong."

I try to thank them for not mugging me. They tell me to thank god and get lost.

I sneak out of the subway. People look at me like I'm some kind of ghost. I meet up with a friend, get my money and buy a bottle of vodka. I go back to the subway, Thierry and Monica are asleep, but Thierry wakes up when their dog barks at me. I hand him the bottle of vodka. He gives me his phone number. I thank him and leave.

I really need a cigarette. And some food. And some sleep. One night has taught me a lot. 

Life in the streets is no joke. 

The first night, trouble ahead. Part 1

So I had a bit of a false start to my project.

I was supposed to be homeless in Brussels for a week. I packed some clothes and a sleeping bag, and took off for Brussels. I arrived pretty late at night, which turned out to be a mistake.

I thought I'd spend the first night sleeping outside. So I walked around a bit and found a nice big cardboard box to lie down on. Since it was going to rain that night I had to look for a place where I wouldn't get drenched in my sleep. This proved to be more difficult than I thought, and I ended up at a church. Now, I knew that this was a place where a lot of homeless people spend the night, but I didn't see any. So I assumed they had all found shelter elsewhere, and thought that it would be safe to spend one night there.

I crawled into my sleeping bag and lay down on the cardboard box. I looked out at the square in front of the church. How surreal it seemed. I was already questioning what the hell I was doing there. I had lived here quite comfortably for the last 4 years, yet it seemed like a completely different place. The night had an awkward feeling to it. I said goodnight to my crew, and tried to go to sleep.

2 hours passed. I still wasn't sleeping. I felt drowsy. My body was hot as hell, but I couldn't prevent the wind from chilling my face. The smell of urine made my stomach churn. I was hungry. That song "Que sera, sera" kept on playing through my head. "Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera."

I hate that song.

I awoke to the sound of a man yelling. My backpack was still next to me. I remembered I had a small camcorder which hung from my neck, concealed in my jacket. The man was yelling in French. "Hey you! At the church!"
I knew the fun part was over...

The man kicked me in the back. I turned around in sleeping bag. Staring down at me was a man with scars across his face, and a woman who I couldn't see clearly in the dark.
"What do you think you're doing here?" The man kept yelling.
I tried to tell him to listen to me, but this made him even angrier. He was ready to kick my face in. I was not ready for this.

I quickly blurted out that I was doing this for a school project and if this was his spot I would leave immediately. He looked at me in disbelief, his eyes still burning. Then the woman stepped forward and grabbed his arm.
"Wait, calm down, this is very weird..."

Even though she did not look very friendly either, I was relieved to hear these words.
The man declared I was insane. He told me that normally they would kick my ass and steal all my stuff, including ALL of my clothes. But tonight was a very strange night...

The woman began talking:
"When you turned around and I saw your face, I saw the faces of 7 of my friends who have died here... You're not supposed to be here. It's been a year since we've been here. But tonight I felt I had to come here." "It's true," the man said, "I didn't want to come here, but she kept insisting. It is a sign of god. You are very lucky. If someone else had found you, you'd have woken up in the hospital. You shouldn't sleep outside, it's too dangerous. Why the hell are you here?"