This was my first time playing with the police state, witnessing its true form. Hardly a surprise, but I don't see anything of what we accomplished in the news media. There are no pictures of the thousands that lined up to march against the war and this wretched administration. Only a few photos of anarchist kids being roughed by riot cops.
The picture the media paints is so distorted and biased that it might as well have been fabricated two weeks before we even got here. Meanwhile I see full-page spreads with photos of McCain in a rain of confetti. We must tell the story of what happened here ourselves, just as we organize ourselves to care for each other and stand together in court solidarity. In the world we are creating, we organize to provide for all our own needs. By the people for the people, right?
Lisa was telling me last night about how direct action depends a lot on opening up space. We take an intersection or make a press conference to hold a space - physical, emotional, or intellectual - which we can claim as our own, as an assembly of people marking their dissent from the forces of governance. It might not seem like much given the extent of damage done by the state, but I still believe our action is potent magic. Whether we are merely witnessing that violence or exhausting its dark rage in our resolute commitment to peace and justice, whether we are struggling to keep the fire alight or fanning the flames of evolutionary consciousness, I know without a doubt that our energy and our efforts were not in vain.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
2 minutes of violence and a lot of buraucratic boredom
my arrest story is a lot less interesting than many others i have heard - but not so insignificant that it didn't hold a few curious revelations for me.
out of the entire cluster, i was the only one who expressed an actual desire to get arrested. not because i thought it was glamorous or anything stupid like that, but because the police have that much less power to intimidate me once i've gone through their bullshit. i don't pretend that this action really exposed me to the same kind of threat which might normally be experienced by someone from marginalized or third world communities. for them the brutality of the police state can have a much deadlier or devastating kind of impact, even rob them of their entire lives. still, in a critical way i've begun my own move away from the safety of my privilege, which brings me closer, step by step, into solidarity with those who experience the brunt of state violence.
my arrest - 2 minutes of violence and a lot of bureaucratic boredom. i was tackled roughly by some riot cops, my pants torn and my knees slammed on the pavement. my hand was cut on the gears of their bicycle, which they somehow used to pin me down. it was over quickly, and then i tried to stand tall and find my grounding again. the pagan cluster was screaming and cheering for me, and the intense blast of supporting energy they sent me nearly overwhelmed me in tears.
in fact, i was having trouble keeping my emotions in check, because i felt like weeping but i didn't want to break down in the streets. it didn't feel like a safe place, not in front of the cops and not the cameras, but i also felt like the biggest tool in existence for crying at such a staged fiasco. still, my body doesn't always agree with my mind, and i could feel my eyes starting to leak.
my friend paul followed me back across the police line. i could see him on the sidewalk from the state trooper car. he stayed with me and stood watch, and even when they moved me several blocks down the street he followed in his vigil. it was extremely comforting to have him there with me. i felt very blessed to have such support.
and then slowly i realized something very useful. i have worked hard to open my heart chakra in the past four years, and i typically run full-charged and open in that area. i've also developed a lot more sensitivity than i previously used to have, which is why small things in life (or even another person's sorrow) can cause me to start crying.
but in that situation, such a wide open heart was making it difficult to focus, so i did something i've never deliberately done before, i closed my heart and throat chakra. if i let off for a moment it would spring back open, but with a bit of focus and persistence i managed to dial down those centers to a bare whisper. sure enough, i couldn't feel the tears in the same way, i could rest composed (and closed) so that i could focus my energy in other ways.
what is the utility of apathy? i don't know, and heaven help me if one day i ever have to find out. there is a reason why a smile is a weakness in prison.
the rest of my story is less than interesting. it's a lot like the most boring parts of going to the doctor's office. tell the receptionist your name and information. make a copy of your driver's license. go sit here. now sit here. (at which point i found myself sitting next to a furious amy goodman, but that's another story) i was out in less than four hours, didn't even spend the night in a jail cell.
thankfully now i've been cured of my unhealthy desire for arrest. but it also had an unintended effect - now i'm even more inspired for healthy dissent and direct action.
out of the entire cluster, i was the only one who expressed an actual desire to get arrested. not because i thought it was glamorous or anything stupid like that, but because the police have that much less power to intimidate me once i've gone through their bullshit. i don't pretend that this action really exposed me to the same kind of threat which might normally be experienced by someone from marginalized or third world communities. for them the brutality of the police state can have a much deadlier or devastating kind of impact, even rob them of their entire lives. still, in a critical way i've begun my own move away from the safety of my privilege, which brings me closer, step by step, into solidarity with those who experience the brunt of state violence.
my arrest - 2 minutes of violence and a lot of bureaucratic boredom. i was tackled roughly by some riot cops, my pants torn and my knees slammed on the pavement. my hand was cut on the gears of their bicycle, which they somehow used to pin me down. it was over quickly, and then i tried to stand tall and find my grounding again. the pagan cluster was screaming and cheering for me, and the intense blast of supporting energy they sent me nearly overwhelmed me in tears.
in fact, i was having trouble keeping my emotions in check, because i felt like weeping but i didn't want to break down in the streets. it didn't feel like a safe place, not in front of the cops and not the cameras, but i also felt like the biggest tool in existence for crying at such a staged fiasco. still, my body doesn't always agree with my mind, and i could feel my eyes starting to leak.
my friend paul followed me back across the police line. i could see him on the sidewalk from the state trooper car. he stayed with me and stood watch, and even when they moved me several blocks down the street he followed in his vigil. it was extremely comforting to have him there with me. i felt very blessed to have such support.
and then slowly i realized something very useful. i have worked hard to open my heart chakra in the past four years, and i typically run full-charged and open in that area. i've also developed a lot more sensitivity than i previously used to have, which is why small things in life (or even another person's sorrow) can cause me to start crying.
but in that situation, such a wide open heart was making it difficult to focus, so i did something i've never deliberately done before, i closed my heart and throat chakra. if i let off for a moment it would spring back open, but with a bit of focus and persistence i managed to dial down those centers to a bare whisper. sure enough, i couldn't feel the tears in the same way, i could rest composed (and closed) so that i could focus my energy in other ways.
what is the utility of apathy? i don't know, and heaven help me if one day i ever have to find out. there is a reason why a smile is a weakness in prison.
the rest of my story is less than interesting. it's a lot like the most boring parts of going to the doctor's office. tell the receptionist your name and information. make a copy of your driver's license. go sit here. now sit here. (at which point i found myself sitting next to a furious amy goodman, but that's another story) i was out in less than four hours, didn't even spend the night in a jail cell.
thankfully now i've been cured of my unhealthy desire for arrest. but it also had an unintended effect - now i'm even more inspired for healthy dissent and direct action.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
faces in the streets
Lines of riot cops, squads of cops on bicycles and horses. Protesters in black bloc, hippies, and pagans. Queers and queens and commies and students. Delegates in suits and the curious apathy of bystanders.
In every face, in every person, both friendly or hostile, I am noticing a continuous thread. It's something which I cannot name but recognize intimately. Something spacious. Something with the quiet pull of boundless compassion. Something like trust, or faith, or the acknowledgment of the goodness of life.
Behind that mask of ego, behind the web of contingency out of which you spin your identity, what I see and recognize is the pulsing groovy energy which drives this entire cosmological clock. And no matter what differences I notice in our appearances, our likes and dislikes, our political opinions or sexual preferences, that underlying life-stuff remains whole and undifferentiated.
It's a trippy place to be. Running in the streets I carry these two frames of reference (along with others) as I try to resolve what is happening. As I try to figure out who I am and what actions I should take. Try to understand struggle and dissent, creativity and resistance, acceptance, love, and (r)evolution. I feel passionately that this perspective is essential to approaching the situation with the right view. Yet I also feel passionately that justice and peace are things worth standing up for, and that the masters of war and the barons of greed are enemies of peace that must be confronted.
Mystic radical yogis for direct action, to the streets!
In every face, in every person, both friendly or hostile, I am noticing a continuous thread. It's something which I cannot name but recognize intimately. Something spacious. Something with the quiet pull of boundless compassion. Something like trust, or faith, or the acknowledgment of the goodness of life.
Behind that mask of ego, behind the web of contingency out of which you spin your identity, what I see and recognize is the pulsing groovy energy which drives this entire cosmological clock. And no matter what differences I notice in our appearances, our likes and dislikes, our political opinions or sexual preferences, that underlying life-stuff remains whole and undifferentiated.
It's a trippy place to be. Running in the streets I carry these two frames of reference (along with others) as I try to resolve what is happening. As I try to figure out who I am and what actions I should take. Try to understand struggle and dissent, creativity and resistance, acceptance, love, and (r)evolution. I feel passionately that this perspective is essential to approaching the situation with the right view. Yet I also feel passionately that justice and peace are things worth standing up for, and that the masters of war and the barons of greed are enemies of peace that must be confronted.
Mystic radical yogis for direct action, to the streets!
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