Devil, Derelict, and King: The Power of Words to Transform A Human Life
Dressed up for a goth club night out with my high school sweetheart, Barbara - circa 1993
When I was a teenager we had an assignment in my high school ethnography class: We were to choose a social environment of modern culture to immerse ourselves into, and study it from the inside. Then we had to present our findings to the class. In writing.
Our teacher suggested things like: the supermarket, or the mall. I chose the homeless. I thought it would be interesting to meet some of those guys who hang out at the freeway exit and learn first-hand what their lives were like.
That weekend, I threw on an old surplus army jacket, rolled around in the dirt, mussed my hair up a bit (that wasn’t too hard with my naturally wild mane), and added some dark eyeliner under my eyes to better look the part. Then I headed to the freeway offramp that seemed to be the homeless hot spot in the San Fernando Valley of LA where I lived.
With my squashed Taco Bell paper cup, and some coins and bills wadded up inside for good measure, I ambled into the gas station nearest the freeway entrance looking strung out, asking people for change. Soon my first subject arrived on the scene and made a beeline towards me.
“Hey man, wanna get some weed?”
Joe was a guy in his mid-twenties with wild brown eyes and a twitch in his face.
”Sure, man…” I replied without hesitation.
“Whatcha got?”
He snatched my cup and emptied it right into his hand.
“That should be enough for a nug, meet me back around the corner in five. I got a spot under the tree over there.”
Cool, I thought, my experiment’s working! I headed over to find his spot on a little strip of faded green grass littered with trash at the side of the station. There a shopping cart was stashed with some random old clothes and what I assumed to be Joe’s earthly possessions. I sat down and waited in anticipation.
The minutes passed and soon it had been more than 20 minutes. I was getting bored and restless, ready for the next adventure. I figured he probably wasn’t coming back. As I was getting up to leave I spotted him across the street. Running towards me with a look of victory in his eyes, we went back to his little corner and sat behind the shopping cart.
He scooted the cart with clothes draped over it to block the view. Then he pulled out a little baggie and ripped it open. But instead of a nug of weed, he pulled out a rock of crack.
“Sorry man they were outta weed. You ever try this stuff?”
I paused for a second, looking to the side. I was excited to try it—to have the full experience of my mission—but I was also admittedly a bit nervous.
“Uhh yeah, man...”
I probably wasn’t all that convincing, but it didn’t matter either way because he’d already popped it in his pipe and lit up. As soon as he had a chance to exhale he said, “Man, you don’t want to try this stuff, it’s dangerous!” and went after it with another long hit, finishing it almost as soon as he’d begun.
I was dissappointed. In those days I would have tried just about anything just to see what it was like. To know what was possible. But I wasn’t about to argue with the man, or try to get between him and his drugs.
After that, things went down hill pretty quick as I tried to ask him questions about his life and how he got on the streets, but he kept pointing to every car that passed by.
“That’s the undercover 5-0, man, I recognize their cars. Be cool! They don’t like us hanging here.”
He’d gotten so paranoid he soon started to suspect me too.
“You one of those undercover kids too? I’ve heard about them sending you out here.”
I was taken aback, assuming an offended stance…
“No way man, you crazy? I’m cool! I just want to know what it’s like for you out here.”
I was getting nowhere with my questions, and pretty soon he lost it...
“You’re attracting too much attention man! They don’t want young kids out here. You better get out of here. LEAVE!!”
He stood up and lunged towards me. I took my cue and made a quick exit.
* * *
I learned so much from that experience. Even more so the following day when my experiment continued along the beach town of Santa Monica and I finally got to experience the full humiliation of being ignored, treated like something lesser than human. It was odd to be right there in front of the people but invisible to them. They went out of their way to avoid me and pretend I didn’t exist.
But the real lesson of all this came from just doing what I felt called to do. Taking that leap and trying something bold and different. Something I really actually cared about, because I felt bad for those people!
I knew that if I got to see it from their perspective, at least I’d have a better understanding of what they’re going through and where they’ve been. And maybe with that, some idea of how I could help them better.*
So yeah, I ended up getting an A in my class, but the real victory was having the experience, and later, being able to write about it for my main college entrance essay….
You see, I wasn’t all that good at testing, and my grades were just barely passable for the level of higher education I was after, but I had a knack for words. I just didn’t know how to put them together all that well to make an impact.
My english teacher at the time was the angel who came to my rescue. She was a wild spirit, an ex-hippie who loved sharing stories about her heyday, like that time she threw her panties on the stage for Bob Dylan at a concert. Out of the kindness and generosity of her heart she showed up at school on the weekends to help me move through the overwhelm of, “how the hell do I choose what to say??” into words that conveyed my experience and pointed it to something bigger than me. Something universal and relevant, with impact.
It was her who gave me the idea one weekend afternoon:
“Why don’t you write about your experience acting as a homeless person, and acting as the devil, and acting as the king?”
I was quite the teenage thespian. In the prior year had played the lead role in the classic Rogers and Hammerstein musical, “The King and I,” as well as playing the devil in a stage performance for our high school theater class. And this was a brilliant premise to contrast all these different experiences I’d had, to explore how I’d learned more about myself and the human condition, about what we are all capable of, who and what I wish to actually be in my life.
I followed her lead, and wrote the paper. It was titled, simply: “Devil, Derelict, and King.”
I’m pretty certain it was that essay that got me through the gatekeepers to be invited to three of my four top choice liberal arts colleges, with scholarships, including Sarah Lawrence where I ended up graduating five years later. And that opened up the doors to so many more wild and soul-enriching experiences in New York and elsewhere than I could have ever imagined.
* * *
I wanted to share this story today, because it’s one of my favorite experiments of my early life. It had a big impact on me, but it also helped me to understand something even more compelling:
The power of the written word.
I always loved reading. I was a huge book worm growing up and would often spend my lunch break reading along in the school library while the kids played outside. (I was obsessed with “Encyclopedia Brown,” the kid detective.) That was my ultimate escape from the harsh reality of being a young kid with a funny name who didn’t get lit up by the things that most other kids were into.
What I didn’t realize until that experience of writing those essays as a teen, was how powerful an impact my own words could have.
At the time I was just following my calling to go farther into the world in search of something better—something beautiful I knew was waiting for me out there. And I was using my writing as a sort of magic carpet to carry me there on the currents of what small life experience I'd had thus far.
What I learned was: when you follow your soul callings to pursue what really matters, and combine that with writing, your potential impact is virtually without limit.
My dream for a better life was made possible precisely through following my heart's calling, and sharing my story.
And today I got to do it again! I got to turn that experience from years ago into something that touches a bigger human experience—that shared evolutionary impulse we all have to reach higher, to create the life we have envisioned. To do something that matters. And I get to do it every day.
What a gift! But it's not just limited to me...
We all get to do that with our lives, because everything we've experienced up until now has made us who we are. It's brought us to this point where we stand right now. And there’s almost no part of our life that’s out of reach of healing and transmuting into something even better and more beautiful than we could even imagine. That's the power of the written word.
Pretty amazing…is it not??
There is simply nothing that words don’t touch. And it’s not just books, articles, scientific studies or even social media, but all human expression from movies to music and the mythological stories that underpin our cultures. Political systems, social systems, every organization that needs to convey its message, its value, or the benefits of what it provides.
Language is what binds us together as humans, making everything we wish to create possible. It holds entire societies together. It provides the fabric for the tapestry of our existence. For that great stage of life we’re all playing on, with our myriad roles, our exits, and our entrances.
As you can see, I have huge love and respect for the power of the written word so it brings me great joy to be helping others in healing and sharing their words too. Through unlocking your voice and speaking your truth, moving past the fears that hold you back, writing your stories, and sharing them with the world. This is what changes the world, and makes everything we wish for possible.
It’s thanks to words that this is all possible. (And thanks to Mrs. Sanders, who saw what my young wild soul was aiming for and helped coax my inner genius out onto the page so it could be seen and received, to land me where I wanted to be.)
Grateful,
Satya
The Writing Wild journey starts soon! If you have more to say and be, to explore and create in your life, I invite you to consider joining our inaugural launch. To learn how healing, writing and spiritual practice can come together to lift you up and help you live the life you have dreamed of: Find Your Voice, Tell Your Story, Ignite Your Creative Soul: WRITING WILD.
*Later in my life I actually experienced homelessness, so I know how hard that can be! I acknowledge that my experience as a teen comes nowhere near the horrific challenges of those who are facing homelessness now on the streets. I support the National Alliance to End Homelessness.