Now there's a homeless guy I regularly encounter, probably - what - 70 years old? Can't tell. He's always on the corner, from sun-up to sun down, dressed in Hippy Gear, a blackened dirty face, filthy clothing and dreadlocks, mirrored sunglasses, toothless and with thick fingernails sharpened into yellow talons.
He's a local - Celebrity? Sadhu? It's hard to say, he's been around forever. If you slow down when you pass him he'll try and lure you into a conversation, which - if you've talked with crazy, is the last thing you want. You'll get, depending on his mood, descriptions of his morning ablutions, lectures on big forestry, the gentrification of Nelson, you name it, he's got his finger on the pulse. And this is what he does all day, every day, trying to start conversations with every passer by, trapping the unwary in wells of irrelevance that can go for hours, days if you'll let him...
Now I'm on my way to volunteer, no time for this nonsense this morning, quickly trying to pass him, excuse myself from his irrelevance, and he yells after me: "Do you know who saved my life? RUDOLF STEINER". And I have to remember this because....
I have a friend, she works at Waldorf, and - well, Waldorf and Rudolf, they're close. He's one of their big influences. And so I'm telling her, she has to pick him up, bring him to the school, a motivational speaker, have him tell the children, and you know I'm having far too much fun...