Dear Inner Circle,

Have you ever listened to three entirely unrelated conversations, all directed at you, at the same time? This is my occupational hazard. Such moments are most disarmingly absurd when one of the discussions reaches a point where some question is asked and I’m expected to make a response. Although all three men were sitting at the same table and all three were talking at top speed, no one was even vaguely aware that two other conversations were taking place at the same moment and all directed toward the one person, me. It seemed like this stream of disconnect could go on for a long time when suddenly I was shocked to hear one of these men directly address another, “You stole my phone you low life c***”. As the first bit of direct communication to happen at this table in thirty minutes, I was surprised. I wondered what kind of response person A could possibly be expecting from person B to whom he directed his allegation. Perhaps he was expecting, “Golly gosh you’re right. I stole your phone. Here it is.” Perhaps some direct communication that was a little less accusatory may have made a more useful approach. Alas, the response came back, “Don’t you call me a c***, you c***.”

You’ll be surprised to know that the above conversation escalated into a parallel universe of human contradiction. Both young men stood up and the volume rose as the content of the language sunk ever lower. You might not think there was much room for the tenor of the language to go down, but trust me, it did. “You’re accusing me of taking your phone, so let’s take this outside.” One man’s embodied contradiction was so profound that his arms extended backwards as if he was showing restraint while his chest was puffed forwards and used to confront and attack Mr A. In the complete miscommunication that followed, there was one moment revealing a capacity to think and be coherent. Mr A said, “And if we go outside and you beat my head in, it will...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

Rarely do I write poetry and never have I shared a poem with you.
I wrote this poem for a man who breaks my heart.

The Prodigal

There is no such thing as a single human being
We are saved or lost together
We’d rather be lost with you than saved without you
There is no such thing as a private act
Every human act is witnessed

Come home
The Universe didn’t abandon you
You abandoned it
Come home
When we meet
Your eyes show you are in a faraway country
Excessive comfort has emptied you, dissipated you
Now you beg me for coins, the pods upon which pigs feed
So come home
Our neck is craning in hope of your return
The magnolia that shades you is standing up straight
Hoping you’ll notice
The breeze that lightly kisses your face
The sun that warms your bones
We’re all waiting, looking, hoping

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Walking down toward Circular Quay the other day, hand in hand with my 10-year-old granddaughter, filled me with a sense of wellbeing like no other time and no other situation. There were people everywhere which caused us to duck and dash just to make progress. Suddenly my beautiful girl said, “Step on a line, break your spine. Step on a crack, break your Mum’s back”. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone getting a serious injury so the both of us started to take sideways jumps; tiny steps or huge leaps in an effort to ensure our feet landed right in the middle of the squares in the footpath. No doubt those around us thought this was inconvenient and perhaps antisocial but we were both laughing so much, neither of us cared. I guess people don’t mind much when 10-year-old girls behave like 10-year-old girls but they probably mind a bit when an old grandfather behaves like a 10-year-old kid.

Quite a young man yesterday asked if he could see me and assured me that it would just take 5 minutes of my time. We stepped away from the crowd in order that we could hear each other. “I can hardly believe I’ve got a few minutes for us to have this conversation” he said. “Well,” I said, “I apologise that I’m really pushed for time but that is the kind of day I’m having.” A few awkward moments passed while I thought he must be wrestling with express whatever it was that was bothering him. “Can you tell me a joke?” he asked. I started to gather that this man was not very well. I told him a Dad joke! He told me it was the worst joke he’d heard ever! I was looking for a way to get on with my day so I explained that I was hoping to get away on a short holiday but that there were many little jobs for me to squash into the next few days. He looked quite concerned and said, “I suspect I’m not really old enough to fill in for you while you’re away.” I thanked him for the kind offer but explained that telling dreadful...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

As a young man, I liked to think I was pretty bright. In my mid-twenties my head was awash with Freud, Ellis, Berne and the like. I wanted to serve people well but in the process I ran a solo commentary on how the world worked. I look back in horror and embarrassment at my pretentious twenty-something self. Knowledge comes through books but wisdom comes through pain.

In the little town of Waikerie, South Australia, I ran a visiting service for a government department whose primary responsibility was child protection. The office I used had no receptionist and no telephone; just a sign on the door to say that I’d be there on Fridays. No one had thought of mobile phones in those days. I started each visit with a full waiting room and I’d work until everyone had gone. They were often long days with no way for me to make enquiries for people or ask for help when my way got difficult.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

The hard and hilarious belong together. Humour is born from suffering which is why comics are often genuinely funny and sad at the same time. When my son was first diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, I stayed by his side for nine days and nights in hospital. It’s a tough thing for a little kid to figure out that the rest of his life will be a constant round of injections. It’s a tough thing for a parent. If I could have injected myself to make him live, I’d have done so with joy. I kept putting off facing the day when it would be me giving the injections. One day after witnessing a nurse with little sensitivity and in a hurry, inject my boy, I thought to myself, “I could hardly do a worse job than this nurse”. The day came. Poor James had to endure a speech from his heartbroken Dad about how he’d inject himself if it would give life back to my darling six-year-old boy. Finally, I pinched the skin on his leg and pushed the needle into his leg. I pushed the plunger all the way in. Finally, I withdrew the needle and threw my arms around my boy – stabbing him in the back! I was trying to be the best father that I could be and I just mucked it all up. James just knew and in due course when there were no needles in sight, we sat together for a long time with our arms around each other. We were together.

In a funeral for one of our dear visitors this week, a declaration was made that is not often heard in a church. We were told that our dear visitor would proudly say, “I’m a whore! Hallelujah!” This story was received without judgement. We didn’t have to debate the good or evil of sex work. What we knew is that we loved this person no matter what. We heard how a precious woman had nothing but was grateful to call one part of the footpath in Woolloomooloo her bedroom, and another near area, her lounge room. We saw in front of our faces that those who have nothing are the most generous people of all. We heard constant expressions...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

A seething ball of anger sat with me yesterday. Often if you listen long enough, some of the steam dissipates and it becomes possible to look at things from more than one angle. Not this time. The longer we spent together, the more the pressure built. If I could have given a month to this bloke, he’d have gladly told me how the world dished to him injustice from the moment of his birth. He spent all of his time telling me how alone he was and how bad people never seem to face justice. The man had no sense that I was with him. The conversation presupposed that I would not understand and if given long enough, I too would become one of the many who would dish out injustice and never have to face consequences for my behaviour. We didn’t meet. I witnessed a monumental mistake from close range. Somewhere the man had decided he was on his own. He couldn’t begin to see that his act denied the intimacy of everything! I tried to tell him that I was patiently waiting to meet him but that he’d have to step out of his solitary cell (‘the self’) and come to meet me. It is not just I who wait, but the whole universe. The magnolia tree at the front of our building is waiting patiently for him. The sky, the ocean, the wind and perhaps many people in this world, are patiently waiting. I wondered if he had ever stared in wonder at the stars or the vastness of an ocean or the beauty of a child, long enough for the universe to compete with, or perhaps temporarily crowd out, his solo commentary. To feel abandoned may be the worst of all crimes because it constructs a ‘self’ that doesn’t exist. How can we do battle with a ghost?

Another meeting on the same day had a better outcome. The cranky man had plenty of money and assets. He had a family although he saw them as aligned with everyone else in the world except himself. The second fellow owned nothing and had no money. He’d wasted an inheritance on indulgence on a grand scale. It’s hard to...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

I’ve never done this before but below is a note I sent to all staff this week. Several people suggested that this note would be a helpful insight for you, our inner circle. I hope this note provides insight into Wayside and how we deal with extraordinary pressure but also maybe this could be helpful for any family or any organisation that likewise might be living through hard times.

So here it is… and…

Thanks for being part of our inner circle,

Graham
...

To the whole Wayside team,

Our way has been torrid lately. I was whinging a bit about my workload to Mon the other day and she told me about how someone had just projectile vomited on her. It put my whinge into perspective.

You’ll wonder if our way could get any more difficult after losing two people last week but I bring you more bad news today. Tammy died this morning. Some of you will know that Tammy, being transgender, was brutally bashed on two occasions before her death. I’m told her death is not directly the result of the bashings but what a dreadful week was the last week of her life. I know I’ve just delivered a deep wound to the hearts of many of you whose hearts were already heavy.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Heroin appears to be purer than it has been in recent times with the shocking consequence of overdose and death. A young bloke was with us yesterday, making real progress and expressing hope because he could begin to believe in a constructive path ahead. This morning he died. I sat with staff who openly wept. Apologies were offered to me for the tears, but in truth, if ever what was best about Wayside could be materialised and bottled, it would be those tears.

We take things personally here. If we were losing 'clients', perhaps we’d be less hurt by our losses but when we lose someone, we lose a ‘brother' or a ‘sister'. Another staff member was in my office just minutes ago, struggling to come to terms with this particular loss. He told me that the deceased man had last night asked him for a cigarette on his way home. The staff member roused him for putting him in a situation where he was asking him to break a Wayside rule, but he gave him a cigarette anyway. It was probably his last cigarette. Our staff member may have been off side with our rules but he was right in the centre of wisdom. It’s not often a staff member shares with me that he found comfort in breaking our policies.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

“Torrid” is one way of explaining life here just lately. We had a fellow attempt to take his own life with a rope although he fell into the capable and compassionate hands of Una before he came close to doing himself damage. Another dear lady, under the influence of ICE, suddenly produced a knife and threatened two of our staff. The saddest part of this situation was that she was threatening the person who loves her in this world the most. I’m thankful for highly trained and disciplined staff members who handled this according to long-practiced policy. The person was soon enough contained behind a locked door. Police responded quickly and soon enough the lady was in custody and on her way to psychiatric help. To top off a busy few days, on Sunday while our little church was on, a lady at our front door suddenly produced a knife and cut her own arm open causing a dramatic, spurting bleed. If that was me, I would have fainted, but this lady ran, fast. Our staff who were concerned that excessive blood loss could be fatal, also ran, fast. The outcome was a quick resolution where medical care and psychiatric care were put in place. Fabulous work on the part of all our people but you’ll understand that while they look pretty relaxed, they are on their toes all the time.

Quite often, members of our inner circle write back to me with stories that resonate with something I’ve written. I have to share this one with you (with permission) because it made me laugh out loud.

Dear Graham,
I always love reading your "Inner Circle" letters. When I read your comments on rules in the latest one, "wisdom is a tricky business", I thought you might enjoy this little story. I went to mass yesterday for Ash Wednesday and because it's a day on which Catholics come out of the woodwork to go to church, the church itself filled up quickly and the overflow was directed to a hall underneath. We were sitting on chairs waiting for the priest...[read more]