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!
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