Today I was at the famer's market, a rather popular groovy event in Santa Cruz. Drum cirlce, tons of friends, and so much yummy yummy food it's crazy.

I was on my way out, backpacked loaded for Raindance campout this weekend; in additon to bumping into some of my favorite folks here in Santa Cruz.

I walk by a younger man then me sitting on the edge by the street, short shaven brown hair, he has a little cardboard sign. I can tell he's not too used to the hussling for change bit, as I looked at him and usually if I look at someone and make a even slight acknowlegdement they hit me up for change.

Usually it's some tweeker/alcked out guy who half demands your money as asks for it. Santa Cruz has a lot of people "spare some change"ing all over the place, most of them caught in self destructive patterns that are only supported by giving them money directly. I usually donate to the food kitchen, or the homeless garden project so I know the money is going to good use.

But this time was different, he looked at me and then kinda turned away forlorn. As I walked past to my bike I read his sign.

"Irag War Veteran- anything will help"

Fuck. What do you say to that? Right here and now, not on the tv, or the paper, or argued in Congress. A real life flesh and blood victim of this horrible tragedy. I had met vets before, but they had been in a very different space. I was totally shaken. I looked at him and I saw a human being raw in the world, lost, and in need. Maybe it's because I have been thinking about these kind of things lately, as well as watching "Across the Universe" which also has segments dealing with the Vietnam vets returning home.

I walked across the street to unlock my bike, my mind spinning in circles, and my heart totally ripped open.

I reached into my wallet as I unlocked my bike, crossed the street and walked up to him. His sign had a pair of dog tags hanging from it, and a military ID with his picture on in.

He didn't really catch that I was focused on him. I reached out.

"Here man, get some food, kay?"

He took the money, almost kinda shaken I had handed him a couple bucks.

"Thanks so much" his voice shaking with a bit of surprise, relief and genuine gratitude and friendliness.

We looked eachother in the eyes for just a moment, but it was enough, I felt the connection with him. He looked lost, wounded, proud- and ashamed of his situation. I know this guy had been handed some totally fucked raw deal, and probably had a closet of demon's tormenting him. It fuckin killed me. The feelings of love and compassion came over me as I smiled at him, letting my energy extend out to him. I wanted to ask him his story. How he had come to be here in this present moment. I felt this was a guy who had something to share, and who by simply listening too I could help; and there was a lesson here for me as well.

And I couldn't bring myself to do it. As I walked away my mind screamed at me to turn around and talk to him. I wanted to be able to tell his story, add his journey to my own, as well as shine in his. What heald me back was a weak sense that I was prying, or that I would be doing this for me and not for his best interest.

Or perhaps it is simply the barrier I feel between other people sometimes- even though I know he (and you) are parts of my perceptual field and there are no barriers really between any of us. I will have to consciously work on that lesson. No barriers, all is an extension of the self projected into this reality.

Hell maybe I didn't do it becaue I didn't want to engage him from a place of pity/woundedness but instead want to share more positive vibrations with him and have us both be uplifted.

The feeling kept growing and growing, I knew this was some important moment.

I was on my bike, three blocks away when I made up my mind I had to go back and talk with this guy.

As I pulled up, I realized he was gone already. I silently hoped he had gotten something he needed from me. Everything is as it is supposed to be, whatever this moment brought me.

I hope I see him again. It's the least I can do.