#FirstCoffeeThoughts

I hadn't been long out of high school when I was in New York with a friend of mine who introduced me to a woman he knew he was an artist. He'd taken me downtown to some sketchy AF looking warehouse area and I was too young at the time to really recognize it as anything other than sketchy when in fact it was a really unique and very artistic scene. I had never been anywhere in New York that wasn't a theater at that age. As far as I knew New York was only Broadway ...

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The woman had a little alcove for lack of a better word that had a table and some easels where her paintings were. There were people around looking at all these different tables and stands and it seemed like a kind of impromptu art exhibit, kind of the place you had to know about in advance to see some rare art or something. Her work was amazing to look at; powerful and aggressive. It made me kind of step back from it. I remember feeling grown up enough to appreciate that powerful response.

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The woman was young. I thought she must be a college student, I was myself just barely a freshman. The trip to the city was my friend taking me the celebrate surviving my first week at college. She introduced herself and we talked about art. She was kind and her voice was so soft. Everything she wore was covered in paint and I remember thinking I was amazed it wasn't in her hair which was really long and black. I asked her how she knew my friend, how they had met, and she said at a shelter.

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My friend was a successful businessman - an architect - and I knew he did a lot of volunteer work and gave to a lot of programs that aided the homeless. I also knew he volunteered a lot of hours doing what he could. I assumed she was also someone similar. But, as I quickly found out, she was homeless herself.

Everyone who was displaying art at this popup gallery was. I remember trying to act mature and not surprised. I'd never in my life met someone homeless ... only saw depictions on TV.

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I remember feeling really kind of gross and ashamed of myself and because I've always believed in absolute candor I said as much. She laughed at me and I had one of those "but you don't look homeless" moments ... which only made me feel even more gross and disgusted with myself. It seemed like everyone who was browsing the art was in on this truth and I remember thinking I must be such a broken person that I had such a limited understanding of the world I was in. It bothered me for WEEKS.

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As with everything in my life, I knew that the only way to be better was to learn ... and the best way to learn was to ask questions. I always seem knowledge where I can, I always try to have a direct understanding from those in the reality I'm trying to learn about ... she was very open about her life and circumstances and her deep sense of pride and determination. She would accept nothing from our mutual wealthy friend except advice. I liked that about her because I was the same with him.

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Over a number of years I learned probably more from her than I did from anyone else. Not just about things like resilience but also about art. She was fascinated by #stoicism and we talked a lot about it. I never try to "sell" anyone on stoicism. It's a crucial part of my foundation and existence and it's just how I speak and live. She was remarkably stoic naturally ... she wasn't living in some fantasy of dreams and lies of hope and delusion. She had a plan, clarity, and a path forward.

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She took no handouts, begged no favors, and was insanely talented which is how she eventually changed her circumstances.

That meeting with her and others that day, a week into my freshman year of college, really shaped the trajectory of my life. I decided a new direction I wanted to take with who I wanted to be.

It evolved from simply being 100 times better than the abusive, selfish, broken people who traumatized and tormented me for 18 years ... it became much more evolved.

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