Above all, a materialistic society desires certainty-it seeks to guarantee it; passes laws to enforce it; wipes our the pathogens that threaten it; and lets everyone have guns to protect it. Even the seemingly innocuous habits of inking in plans and clinging to beliefs and opinions are the reverse-image of the uncertainties that the heart yearns to be certain about.
Yet, if we seek security in that which is inherently uncertain, dukkha, or discontent, is the inevitable result.
Fear is a discomfiting friend. The impulse is to get to a place of safety, but where in the phenomenal world-either mental or physical-could that be? The insight of the Buddha, informed by his own experiences of exploring fear and dread, encourages us to make a 180-degree turn. Whereas the instinct is to shrink away from the threatening aspects of life, his injunction for those who wish to free the heart is to contemplate frequently the following:
I am of the nature to age, I have not gone beyond aging;
I am of the nature to sicken, I have not gone beyond sickness;
I am of the nature to die, I have not gone beyond dying;
All that is mine, beloved and pleasing, will become
otherwise, will become separated from me.
For that which is threatening to the ego is liberating for the heart.
By turning to face the inarguable facts of nature, the habit of investing in unstable realms is interrupted. It shines the light of wisdom on the issue, reveals that we've been looking for certainty in the wrong place, and thus frees up the attention to realize where security can be found.
This needs to be examined in the light of personal experience, but in traditional Buddhist terminology, such security is said to be found in the Triple Gem: the Buddha-the awakened, knowing faculty of the heart; the Dharma-the truth of the way things are; and the Sangha-the noble, unselfish response. For when the awakened heart knows the way things truly are, what springs forth is harmonious and virtuous action. Undiscriminating awareness is dependable. The reality of Nature is dependable. Harmony is possible.
How can we arrive at such security?
There are many ways to meditate on fear. One is to wait until it appears adventitiously. Another is to invite it in-when we send out invitations we can be a little better prepared for who shows up at the party.
Perhaps for both methods of approach the first thing to bear in mind is that fear is not the enemy-it is nature's protector; it only becomes troublesome when it oversteps its bounds. In order to deal with fear we must take a fundamentally noncontentious attitude toward it, so it's not held as "My big fear problem" but rather "Here is fear that has come to visit." Once we take this attitude, we can begin to work with fear.
*
Begin by sitting quietly and focusing the attention as clearly as possible on the present moment, using a simple tranquil object to establish equilibrium-the natural rhythm of the breath is good for this purpose for most people, moving in the empty space of the heart .
*
Once such centeredness has been established, deliberately bring to mind something that will arouse a fear reaction. For example,
"Anthrax in the mail"
"Nuclear war"
"Suicide bombers"
-or any other memory, imagined possibility, or Image that triggers the compulsive effect.
*
Once the seed crystal has been dropped into the mental pool and the consequent flow of thoughts and images has begun, make a definite and concerted effort to withdraw the attention from the stories the thoughts are telling. Bring it instead into the sensations of the physical body.
Where do I feel the fear? What is its texture?
Is it hot or cold?
Is it painful? Rigid? Elastic?
We are not necessarily looking for verbal answers to all these questions; rather, we are just trying to find the feeling, accept it completely, and not add anything to it.
"Fear feels like this."
Many find that fear locates itself primarily in the solar plexus, sitting like a tightened knot in the belly. Just feel it, know it, open the heart to it as much as possible. We're not trying to pretend or force ourselves to like it, but it is here-right now it's the way things are.
*
Let this process run for at least ten minutes, then consciously let it wind down-not suppressing it, but, as when it's time for guests to leave, make the hints, and let the event wind down naturally. It might take a while, but that's fine; just let it run out at its own pace. During this time, reestablish the breath as a focal point, and use the exhalation to support the fading of the fear-wave.
*
Once it has come to an end, focus the attention on the feeling of the breath, moving as before in the empty space of the heart. Let the heart be clearly conscious that the fear cycle has come to cessation: it arose out of emptiness, returned to emptiness. It was florid and impactful in its appearance, but the overarching quality, now having been seen directly, is its transiency.
Now we know ...
The effect of this practice is to train the heart, so that when the next wave of fear arises, from whatever quarter, something in us knows. The intuitive wisdom faculty is awakened and recognizes: "I know this scenario-don't panic-it looks impressive, but it's just the fear reaction." It becomes vastly easier to avoid being sucked into the vortex of anxiety.
The feeling is not pleasant, but the heart knows, with absolute certainty: "It's only a feeling." And if action needs to be taken, then that action will be motivated by wisdom, kindness, and sensitivity to time and place rather than by neurotic reactivity and habit.
Amaro Bhikkhu is co-abbot of Abhayagiri Monastery in northern California, in the lineage of Ajahn Chah and the Thai forest tradition. He has been a monk for twenty-three years.This article was published in Tricycle Magazine.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Intention
It is like radio static. Sometimes you cannot hear the song at all. Sometimes you can, mostly. And sometimes you think you are hearing it just fine but, if you fiddle with the knob (yes, in my thirty-odd-year-old mind, radios still have knobs), suddenly the signal comes with such fidelity that you are amazed you thought it was clear before.
Good morning.
There is something, some sense... I have referred to it as a path, as love, as many equally misleading names. I believe it is what Socrates referred to as his "sign," and what Philip Pullman characterized as a daemon in the His Dark Materials trilogy. I will not tell you it is my soul, my calling... though these (and other names) are things I have called it in the past. All I know is, there is something that seems to produce that sense of fidelity in my life.
It is why I do whatever I do. It is the silence that draws me and, sometimes, the noise that distracts me. My opinions of the past are colored by my mindfulness: "x was a good choice, because it was involving this sense; y was a bad choice, because it was not." The present moment will become the colored past soon enough, and mistakes are not anathema.
While in Texas recently, I began reading The Way of Practical Attainment. It returned to me that sense of fidelity. I saw clearly the stories I had been telling myself, and I also saw that "I see clearly the stories" is also a story. I understand that my idea of progress is not seeing past the stories, but rather to follow this sense like Ariadne's string as the stories continue. (Such stories, being insubstantial, cannot be obstacles unless I, in my mind, give them substance.)
I heard a quote recently, which said something like, "There are days when I do not want to practice my yoga. I do it anyway, and I never regret having done it afterward." I have no regrets, but those things which are most like regrets are the actions I took in lieu of practicing this nameless sense.
It is to practice this sense that I have made some radical decisions. I do not regret the times that I have embraced it, and I have regretted the times when I let it go. Straying from this, in fact, invalidates all decisions I previously believed were made in, literally, "good faith."
I am not afraid to make mistakes (including, perhaps, the mistake of being afraid) and I am also not afraid of dropping the string. It is this sense above all that I want in life, and I know I will always return to this, and I know that enduring what I do not want with this is preferable to enduring what I do want without it.
Friday, February 10, 2012
More Practical Attainment
If the three ways of practice are analysed, they will reveal the eightfold noble path, the four viewpoints to be considered, the four right procedures, the five faculties of power to be employed, and the perfection of six practices.
The Noble Eightfold Path refers to right view, right thought, right speech, right behavior, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.
.Right View means to thoroughly understand the Fourfold Truth, to believe in the law of cause and effect and not to be deceived by appearances and desires.
.Right Thought means the resolution not to cherish desires, not to be greedy, not to be angry, and not to do any harmful deed.
.Right Speech means the avoidance of lying words, idle words, abusive words, and double-tongues.
.Right Behavior means not to destroy any life, not to steal, or not to commit adultery.
.Right Livelihood means to avoid any life that would bring shame.
.Right Effort means to try to do one's best diligently toward the right direction.
.Right Mindfulness means to maintain a pure and thoughtful mind.
.Right Concentration means to keep the mind right and tranquil for its concentration, seeking to realize the mind's pure essence.
The four view-points to be considered are:
.First, to consider the body impure, seeking to remove all attachments to it.
.Second, to consider the senses as a source of suffering, whatever their feelings of pain or pleasure may be.
.Third, to consider the mind to be in a constant state of flux.
.Fourth, to consider everything in the world as being a consequence of causes and conditions and that nothing remains unchanged forever.
The four right procedures* are:
.First, to prevent any evil from starting.
.Second, to remove any evil as soon as it starts.
.Third, to induce the doing of good deeds.
.Fourth, to encourage the growth and continuance of good deeds that have already started.
One must endeavor to keep these four procedures.
The five faculties of power are:
.First, the faith to believe.
.Second, the will to make the endeavor.
.Third, the faculty of alertness.
.Fourth, the ability to concentrate one's mind.
.Fifth, the ability to maintain clear wisdom.
These five faculties are necessary powers to attain Enlightenment.
The perfection of six practices for reaching the other shore of Enlightenment are:
.The path of offering
.The path of keeping precepts
.The path of endurance
.The path of endeavor
.The path of concentration of mind
.The path of wisdom.
*it was interesting to notice, as I was copying this, how these four items resembled the four intentions I set at the beginning of 2012:
.Strength (remember your convictions)
.Discipline (be mindful of wavering from your intentions)
.Compassion (seek to provide compassion; don't just wait for people to seek it from you)
.Generosity (what do you have but what you've learned? continue in earnest to learn how to convey or share all that you have; it is worthless to have, if kept to yourself)
Things like that are what make me think I may have studied Buddhism in a past life. So much of what I learn seems like something I already knew or thought.
That is the only argument I have found in my life for believing in reincarnation.
Friday, February 3, 2012
search for truth
Suppose a man goes to the forest to get some of the pith that grows in the center of a tree and returns with a burden of branches and leaves, thinking that he has secured what he went after; would he not be foolish, if he is satisfied with the bark, endoderm, or wood for the pith which he was after? But that is what many people are doing.
A person seeks a path that will lead him away from birth, old age, sickness and death, or from lamentation, sorrow, suffering and agony; and yet, he follows the path a little way and notices some little advance, and immediately becomes proud and conceited and domineering. He is like the man who sought pith and went away satisfied with a burden of branches and leaves.
Another man becoming satisfied with the progress he has made by a little effort, relaxes his effort and becomes proud and conceited; he is carrying away only a load of branches instead of the pith he was seeking.
Still another man finding that his mind is becoming calmer and his thoughts clearer, he, too, relaxes his effort and becomes proud and conceited; he has a burden of bark instead of the pith he was looking for.
Then again, another man becomes proud and conceited because he notices that he has gained a measure of intuitive insight; he has a load of the woody fiber of the tree instead of the pith. All of these seekers, who become easily satisfied by their insufficient effort and become proud and over-bearing, relax their efforts and easily fall into idleness. All these people will inevitably face suffering again.
Those who seek the true path to Enlightenment must not expect any offer of respect, honor or devotion. And further, they must not aim with a slight effort, at a trifling advance in calmness or knowledge or insight.
First of all, one should get clearly in mind the basic and essential nature of this world of life and death.
The Way of Practical Attainment
A person seeks a path that will lead him away from birth, old age, sickness and death, or from lamentation, sorrow, suffering and agony; and yet, he follows the path a little way and notices some little advance, and immediately becomes proud and conceited and domineering. He is like the man who sought pith and went away satisfied with a burden of branches and leaves.
Another man becoming satisfied with the progress he has made by a little effort, relaxes his effort and becomes proud and conceited; he is carrying away only a load of branches instead of the pith he was seeking.
Still another man finding that his mind is becoming calmer and his thoughts clearer, he, too, relaxes his effort and becomes proud and conceited; he has a burden of bark instead of the pith he was looking for.
Then again, another man becomes proud and conceited because he notices that he has gained a measure of intuitive insight; he has a load of the woody fiber of the tree instead of the pith. All of these seekers, who become easily satisfied by their insufficient effort and become proud and over-bearing, relax their efforts and easily fall into idleness. All these people will inevitably face suffering again.
Those who seek the true path to Enlightenment must not expect any offer of respect, honor or devotion. And further, they must not aim with a slight effort, at a trifling advance in calmness or knowledge or insight.
First of all, one should get clearly in mind the basic and essential nature of this world of life and death.
The Way of Practical Attainment
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Where There Is Smoke, There Is ROSEWATER
So today I took the biggest step yet toward actually living on the farm--I started shoveling out the grain shed. That sentence pretty much sums up my expectations for the day, however life should always be an adventure.
Part of the roof is gone, and so half of the shed was being rained on. I focused on the other part. Shoveling and sweeping is generally not very complicated, but even so it was easier than I expected. It really was mostly dirt, except for along the back wall, where there was a pile of old, empty feed bags that had been there for many years. I started moving them into the remains of the chicken coop (to prevent them from becoming sodden, disintegrating bags), but then realized that I could just burn them off under the shed's adjoining lean-to. Between the rain and the large dirt area, I figured there was no problem with a little, five-minute fire.
Things I learned today:
1) Smoke usually floats up and disperses, however this is not the case when it is raining.
2) Under this condition, the smoke blows into an open window, and then blows out through the holes in the roof.
3) When seen from the road, this situation looks quite serious.
4) Brandon, a childhood friend who lives down the road, is a volunteer firefighter. So are several other people who live within five miles.
5) A firetruck cannot make it down my driveway when it has been raining.
6) From October 15 through May 15, anyone starting an open-air fire within 500 feet of a forest, grassland, or woodland must by law secure a burning permit from the Division of Forestry.
Although I felt bad that all of these people had to come out in the rain, I was glad to know that people in the area are looking out for their neighbors' safety, and that it takes very little time for firefighters to arrive. On top of that, one of the guys who came to put out my tiny, tiny fire offered to help me install the gate on the driveway. If dad doesn't come around to help me with that soon, I just may take him up on that. The backwoods of Dickson seems like a good place to live today.
Part of the roof is gone, and so half of the shed was being rained on. I focused on the other part. Shoveling and sweeping is generally not very complicated, but even so it was easier than I expected. It really was mostly dirt, except for along the back wall, where there was a pile of old, empty feed bags that had been there for many years. I started moving them into the remains of the chicken coop (to prevent them from becoming sodden, disintegrating bags), but then realized that I could just burn them off under the shed's adjoining lean-to. Between the rain and the large dirt area, I figured there was no problem with a little, five-minute fire.
Things I learned today:
1) Smoke usually floats up and disperses, however this is not the case when it is raining.
2) Under this condition, the smoke blows into an open window, and then blows out through the holes in the roof.
3) When seen from the road, this situation looks quite serious.
4) Brandon, a childhood friend who lives down the road, is a volunteer firefighter. So are several other people who live within five miles.
5) A firetruck cannot make it down my driveway when it has been raining.
6) From October 15 through May 15, anyone starting an open-air fire within 500 feet of a forest, grassland, or woodland must by law secure a burning permit from the Division of Forestry.
Although I felt bad that all of these people had to come out in the rain, I was glad to know that people in the area are looking out for their neighbors' safety, and that it takes very little time for firefighters to arrive. On top of that, one of the guys who came to put out my tiny, tiny fire offered to help me install the gate on the driveway. If dad doesn't come around to help me with that soon, I just may take him up on that. The backwoods of Dickson seems like a good place to live today.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
up against the walls when the revolution comes
I woke up at 3:00am parked in the Post Office parking lot. I'd been asleep for 15 minutes, when my phone rang. I met Stefanie and her boyfriend Drew 370 days ago, on the train from LA to Chicago, and this was our first non-facebook communication since that trip. We talked until my phone died; we talked until nearly 4:30.
Right now I'm feeling the wreck that my body experiences when I eat or drink too soon after waking up. In the light of that wreck, all my conversations from last night are crashing together. Stefanie and I (and, earlier, Leslie and I) talked about our experiences over the past few months. Like everyone else I know right now: life is changing like earthquakes. Like everyone else I know right now: we talked about how these changes appear to have huge implications for The Future. Personal experiences finding resonance with community experiences; social experiences full of synchronicities and connections. I am glad to see this happening in my life, and am encouraged to see this is happening to others around me, and excited to hear it happening to Stef on the other side of the country.
She asked me, "Have you ever made an attempt to do something other than the get-a-job, life-as-normal life?" It struck me as odd at first, considering when she met me I was homeless and talking about a farm and Leslie & Charles & Adrienne & Valerie & Scott & I occupying it with hopes and dreams and intentions.
It also struck me as odd that my answer to her question was, "No."
I've had some relatively epic adventures over the past five years, and many (if not most) involved or flirted with being homeless, jobless, and discussing alternatives to that "normal" life. But when she asked me that, I realized that I never took both feet off the "normal" path. I only stepped far enough off to appear to be on the adventure I craved--appear, to myself as well as others.
Right now, I feel like I'm in a place much different from anywhere I've been before. Over these months... hell, over these years, I have tested and discovered my beliefs. I have always wanted to live by those beliefs HARD. And yet, only one foot off the path of security. And now, revolution seems nigh. It feels like time to move forward.
I don't want to be swept forward.
I want to walk forward, boldly. I have allowed my beliefs to represent me for so long; now I want to represent my beliefs.
I am up against my own walls in every direction. Any moving forward requires me to do things I am desperately afraid to do. I have to make myself vulnerable. I am so afraid.
I almost didn't go to Leslie's birthday supper last night, because that is one of my walls. And today will involve that wall and another: discussing intentional communities with her & others also faces my fear of having a role in a community; a role I don't want, a role I have refused to accept, but that Life keeps trying to hand me. Fear of vulnerability leads to my walls, and I feel like those walls would be faults in the foundations that I'm building.
--- -- - -- ---
Boom. This blog was expected to be cohesive, but the fact that I slept fifteen minutes, then almost an hour, then an hour, and then immediately drank coffee and ate.... as I said: a wreck. So, derailed.
Now about rationalizing.
--- -- - -- ---
In the book Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, two characters (Richard, Dirk) are walking near a canal, talking. Suddenly, Richard disrobes, jumps into the canal, and nearly drowns. Once Dirk brings him out, Richard explains: he suddenly remembered that he'd missed his morning swim, and decided to take it at that moment. Dirk then plays a recording of Richard under hypnosis. "When I say x, you will take off your clothes, jump into the canal, and find that you cannot swim."
This is a shameful summation of the event that very elegantly describes how I rationalize things. An example from my own life: Whenever I drink to excess, I spend the next day experiencing intense panic attacks. It is a chemical reaction, however I feel something and so I create a story to explain the feeling. I tell myself stories about how everything I'd done the night before was a terrible thing.
Ugh... my brain is working less. My stomach is cramping. This topic will be returned to.
Right now I'm feeling the wreck that my body experiences when I eat or drink too soon after waking up. In the light of that wreck, all my conversations from last night are crashing together. Stefanie and I (and, earlier, Leslie and I) talked about our experiences over the past few months. Like everyone else I know right now: life is changing like earthquakes. Like everyone else I know right now: we talked about how these changes appear to have huge implications for The Future. Personal experiences finding resonance with community experiences; social experiences full of synchronicities and connections. I am glad to see this happening in my life, and am encouraged to see this is happening to others around me, and excited to hear it happening to Stef on the other side of the country.
She asked me, "Have you ever made an attempt to do something other than the get-a-job, life-as-normal life?" It struck me as odd at first, considering when she met me I was homeless and talking about a farm and Leslie & Charles & Adrienne & Valerie & Scott & I occupying it with hopes and dreams and intentions.
It also struck me as odd that my answer to her question was, "No."
I've had some relatively epic adventures over the past five years, and many (if not most) involved or flirted with being homeless, jobless, and discussing alternatives to that "normal" life. But when she asked me that, I realized that I never took both feet off the "normal" path. I only stepped far enough off to appear to be on the adventure I craved--appear, to myself as well as others.
Right now, I feel like I'm in a place much different from anywhere I've been before. Over these months... hell, over these years, I have tested and discovered my beliefs. I have always wanted to live by those beliefs HARD. And yet, only one foot off the path of security. And now, revolution seems nigh. It feels like time to move forward.
I don't want to be swept forward.
I want to walk forward, boldly. I have allowed my beliefs to represent me for so long; now I want to represent my beliefs.
I am up against my own walls in every direction. Any moving forward requires me to do things I am desperately afraid to do. I have to make myself vulnerable. I am so afraid.
I almost didn't go to Leslie's birthday supper last night, because that is one of my walls. And today will involve that wall and another: discussing intentional communities with her & others also faces my fear of having a role in a community; a role I don't want, a role I have refused to accept, but that Life keeps trying to hand me. Fear of vulnerability leads to my walls, and I feel like those walls would be faults in the foundations that I'm building.
--- -- - -- ---
Boom. This blog was expected to be cohesive, but the fact that I slept fifteen minutes, then almost an hour, then an hour, and then immediately drank coffee and ate.... as I said: a wreck. So, derailed.
Now about rationalizing.
--- -- - -- ---
In the book Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, two characters (Richard, Dirk) are walking near a canal, talking. Suddenly, Richard disrobes, jumps into the canal, and nearly drowns. Once Dirk brings him out, Richard explains: he suddenly remembered that he'd missed his morning swim, and decided to take it at that moment. Dirk then plays a recording of Richard under hypnosis. "When I say x, you will take off your clothes, jump into the canal, and find that you cannot swim."
This is a shameful summation of the event that very elegantly describes how I rationalize things. An example from my own life: Whenever I drink to excess, I spend the next day experiencing intense panic attacks. It is a chemical reaction, however I feel something and so I create a story to explain the feeling. I tell myself stories about how everything I'd done the night before was a terrible thing.
Ugh... my brain is working less. My stomach is cramping. This topic will be returned to.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
An Interesting Night
For Occupy, this weekend is kind of a big deal. Occupy Nashville is hosting the first state-wide rally, attracting protesters from all over the state of Tennessee. Several people from Clarksville even went the extra mile (well, sixty miles) by walking to Nashville, chanting and carrying a banner.
I'd crawled into my sleeping bag, resolved to skip the planned midnight march in favor of what warmth and comfort I could muster. (If you know me, you know that I'm kicking myself now that I've recognized this. Meditative awareness fail.) But when the Clarksville bunch showed up, after a day of anticipation (and after, on their side of the story, thirty hours of walking), the camp got loud. Chanting, cheering... Revelry. A desire to recognize these heroes compelled me to get dressed and re-enter the cold.
They were on the ground: sitting, laying, smoking and exhausted. They were served coffee and pizza, and we helped set up their tents.
And then it was midnight. We gathered at the top of the stairs, where Will-from-Legal addressed the crowd. "When marching, you will not be arrested if you stay on the sidewalks. Walking in the street is illegal... You have been advised. Do what you want." Upon hearing that, I expected to see a handful of us stepping out into the street from time to time. Our Clarksville friends came to the front of the crowd, and the march began. Almost everyone walked right into the street; we on the sidewalk were the handful.
Deaderick, at midnight, is not a bust street. I was amused by our group's "daring" display of civil disobedience, as we inconvenienced a single driver. And then we turned right onto 2nd Avenue. The front line linked arms, and chanted "This is what democracy looks like!" as they walked into oncoming traffic on the one-way street. I happened to be walking near Will-from-Legal and heard him say to himself, "Really? Oh my god." Not what you'd normally like to hear fro your legal adviser. Is this what our democracy looks like?
To many people, yes. It is.
Of course, many people support the status quo. That's what makes it the status quo. The perception that we in Occupy are reckless, crazy people is not only due to misunderstanding or lack of information It is also a recognition that we are rocking the boat--a boat that a large percentage feel does not need to be rocked. The idea that people would disagree with us and speak out was not surprising to me, but being in the center of it was nearly overwhelming, Not all response was negative. I'd say 35-40% of the people around us seemed supportive, but it was the other 60-65% that impressed me in the moment. In the street, the cars changed lanes or stopped to avoid contact with Occupy; on the sidewalks, however, people were drawn to us. My natural inclination to be invisible was bruised and beaten. "What is your problem with America?" "What does your sign sa--oh, it's just a bunch of Democrats."* Yelling. Insults. Mocking. At the plaza, people often drive by shouting, "Get a job!" The march gave us an opportunity. When somebody shouted at John, from Knoxville, to take a shower,** John fell back to talk, and as I walked on I heard the start of his conversation: "I did. We all shower. They're really good people..." And at one point several guys we passed started chanting, "USA! USA!" to counter our own chants. We took up theirs: "USA! USA!" They shut up.
Unlike Deaderick St, Broadway is the heart of Nashville tourist-driven nightlife, and the street was plenty busy. After a couple of blocks, a police car had stopped and the officer approached the group announcing, "If you get move to the sidewalk, you will not be arrested." Those at the front of the group turned to mic-check the announcement, but before they'd finished the sentence, two people were arrested. I felt like everything should have seemed like it was in slow motion, or else that everything should have "happened so quickly." The lack of time distortion disoriented me. I'm a fan or trespassing and other boundary-crossings, but at that moment the fact that some of us were not standing on the sidewalk seemed like the scariest thing in the world. The Complacent Citizen training I'd endured for most of my life kicked in, and I just could not understand why my friends were still in the street. Of course, they didn't move, Court--civil disobedience doesn't stop when the cops show up. But after five arrests, we were all on the sidewalk. Several of our group had their cameras and phones out, recording the scene and chanting, "The world is watching! The world is watching!"
I was so confused. Were they trying to chastise the police? The chanting of "Bullshit! Bullshit!" a moment later seemed to suggest that they were. The world was watching... what? Watching the police do their jobs? They probably didn't have to shove people so hard against their cars, but there was nothing near what I would consider excessive force. We've seen the videos and heard the reports from around the country... were we just feeling left out? Were we fantasizing a chaotic scene? On one hand, I felt the reaction was irrational, but on the other hand, so was it all. Awhile the police were slamming Matt and Jen and Jeremiah and the others against the cars (and I am, by the way, making an effort to not e sensational--I do mean slamming) and handcuffing them, other people were walking out into the street yelling and swearing and flipping us off, without looking first (and, therefore causing a much greater risk than we had), but nobody outside of Occupy Tennessee got so much as a casual glance.
Once the police had gone, we reconvened at the next corner. Someone was shouting, "Do not let the police intimidate you!" Good advice for that moment. "They are evil!" Wait, what? The police have to accept that we are going to walk down the busiest street in town en masse... Was it so hard to accept in turn that they were going to arrest us? Other Occupations have been given good cause to distrust the police, but in Nashville more than anywhere else the police have been on our side. (They're unionized. They get it.) In fact, as we continued to march toward the night court, where we were told our friends would be taken, somebody on the sidewalk fell to the ground, unable to walk. Gathered around him in concern, several of us were in the street, and an officer drove up, blocking traffic to protect us.
A guy named Scott hadn't marched with us, but he came down from the plaza once he heard about the arrests. He and I got to talking, and fell back to the end of the crowd. We passed a car of young women who rolled their windows down and were yelling at us. I'd had enough of it. I ignored them. And then I heard a car door, and footsteps running toward me. A pretty (and very drunk) girl in a tight pink top, wanted her picture taken with a protester with a sign. So that was me. She handed her iPhone over to Scott as I tried to wrap my head around one of the strangest moments of my life. I had witnessed people getting arrested for something I had been a part of. I had been marching with people from all over the state, in support of an idea too big to articulate fully. I was cold, I didn't know what to think, what to feel, and now I was a prop for this bimbo's photo op. I'm glad that moment of my life will live on anonymously in a stranger's facebook photo album.
After that weird moment, Scott and I were well behind the rest. A police car drove past, away from the courthouse, and we saw one of our people in the back seat. The car drove on a couple of blocks, and then pulled over. We approached the car and the officer rolled down his window and told us to move back and wait; she would e released soon. We obliged. I recognized the girl as one of our visitors from Johnson City, and so when I saw the other members of OJC, I ran over to tell them where she was. The five of us waited, and eventually the girl was released. She told us that the officer had been taking her to the courthouse when he was ordered, over the radio, to give her a citation and release her. She said his response was, "You've got the be fucking kidding me." We walked her back to the camp, and from there Lance, Butch and I set off to meet up with everyone at the courthouse. By the time we got there, the rest of the people had been given citations and released, and we continued the march.
*For the record, my supposedly left-wing sign says, "Something better is what I'm after, and no less."
**For the record, John was well-dressed and clean-cut. How strange that we, as people, can see what we expect to see, rather than what is actually there.
I'd crawled into my sleeping bag, resolved to skip the planned midnight march in favor of what warmth and comfort I could muster. (If you know me, you know that I'm kicking myself now that I've recognized this. Meditative awareness fail.) But when the Clarksville bunch showed up, after a day of anticipation (and after, on their side of the story, thirty hours of walking), the camp got loud. Chanting, cheering... Revelry. A desire to recognize these heroes compelled me to get dressed and re-enter the cold.
They were on the ground: sitting, laying, smoking and exhausted. They were served coffee and pizza, and we helped set up their tents.
And then it was midnight. We gathered at the top of the stairs, where Will-from-Legal addressed the crowd. "When marching, you will not be arrested if you stay on the sidewalks. Walking in the street is illegal... You have been advised. Do what you want." Upon hearing that, I expected to see a handful of us stepping out into the street from time to time. Our Clarksville friends came to the front of the crowd, and the march began. Almost everyone walked right into the street; we on the sidewalk were the handful.
Deaderick, at midnight, is not a bust street. I was amused by our group's "daring" display of civil disobedience, as we inconvenienced a single driver. And then we turned right onto 2nd Avenue. The front line linked arms, and chanted "This is what democracy looks like!" as they walked into oncoming traffic on the one-way street. I happened to be walking near Will-from-Legal and heard him say to himself, "Really? Oh my god." Not what you'd normally like to hear fro your legal adviser. Is this what our democracy looks like?
To many people, yes. It is.
Of course, many people support the status quo. That's what makes it the status quo. The perception that we in Occupy are reckless, crazy people is not only due to misunderstanding or lack of information It is also a recognition that we are rocking the boat--a boat that a large percentage feel does not need to be rocked. The idea that people would disagree with us and speak out was not surprising to me, but being in the center of it was nearly overwhelming, Not all response was negative. I'd say 35-40% of the people around us seemed supportive, but it was the other 60-65% that impressed me in the moment. In the street, the cars changed lanes or stopped to avoid contact with Occupy; on the sidewalks, however, people were drawn to us. My natural inclination to be invisible was bruised and beaten. "What is your problem with America?" "What does your sign sa--oh, it's just a bunch of Democrats."* Yelling. Insults. Mocking. At the plaza, people often drive by shouting, "Get a job!" The march gave us an opportunity. When somebody shouted at John, from Knoxville, to take a shower,** John fell back to talk, and as I walked on I heard the start of his conversation: "I did. We all shower. They're really good people..." And at one point several guys we passed started chanting, "USA! USA!" to counter our own chants. We took up theirs: "USA! USA!" They shut up.
Unlike Deaderick St, Broadway is the heart of Nashville tourist-driven nightlife, and the street was plenty busy. After a couple of blocks, a police car had stopped and the officer approached the group announcing, "If you get move to the sidewalk, you will not be arrested." Those at the front of the group turned to mic-check the announcement, but before they'd finished the sentence, two people were arrested. I felt like everything should have seemed like it was in slow motion, or else that everything should have "happened so quickly." The lack of time distortion disoriented me. I'm a fan or trespassing and other boundary-crossings, but at that moment the fact that some of us were not standing on the sidewalk seemed like the scariest thing in the world. The Complacent Citizen training I'd endured for most of my life kicked in, and I just could not understand why my friends were still in the street. Of course, they didn't move, Court--civil disobedience doesn't stop when the cops show up. But after five arrests, we were all on the sidewalk. Several of our group had their cameras and phones out, recording the scene and chanting, "The world is watching! The world is watching!"
I was so confused. Were they trying to chastise the police? The chanting of "Bullshit! Bullshit!" a moment later seemed to suggest that they were. The world was watching... what? Watching the police do their jobs? They probably didn't have to shove people so hard against their cars, but there was nothing near what I would consider excessive force. We've seen the videos and heard the reports from around the country... were we just feeling left out? Were we fantasizing a chaotic scene? On one hand, I felt the reaction was irrational, but on the other hand, so was it all. Awhile the police were slamming Matt and Jen and Jeremiah and the others against the cars (and I am, by the way, making an effort to not e sensational--I do mean slamming) and handcuffing them, other people were walking out into the street yelling and swearing and flipping us off, without looking first (and, therefore causing a much greater risk than we had), but nobody outside of Occupy Tennessee got so much as a casual glance.
Once the police had gone, we reconvened at the next corner. Someone was shouting, "Do not let the police intimidate you!" Good advice for that moment. "They are evil!" Wait, what? The police have to accept that we are going to walk down the busiest street in town en masse... Was it so hard to accept in turn that they were going to arrest us? Other Occupations have been given good cause to distrust the police, but in Nashville more than anywhere else the police have been on our side. (They're unionized. They get it.) In fact, as we continued to march toward the night court, where we were told our friends would be taken, somebody on the sidewalk fell to the ground, unable to walk. Gathered around him in concern, several of us were in the street, and an officer drove up, blocking traffic to protect us.
A guy named Scott hadn't marched with us, but he came down from the plaza once he heard about the arrests. He and I got to talking, and fell back to the end of the crowd. We passed a car of young women who rolled their windows down and were yelling at us. I'd had enough of it. I ignored them. And then I heard a car door, and footsteps running toward me. A pretty (and very drunk) girl in a tight pink top, wanted her picture taken with a protester with a sign. So that was me. She handed her iPhone over to Scott as I tried to wrap my head around one of the strangest moments of my life. I had witnessed people getting arrested for something I had been a part of. I had been marching with people from all over the state, in support of an idea too big to articulate fully. I was cold, I didn't know what to think, what to feel, and now I was a prop for this bimbo's photo op. I'm glad that moment of my life will live on anonymously in a stranger's facebook photo album.
After that weird moment, Scott and I were well behind the rest. A police car drove past, away from the courthouse, and we saw one of our people in the back seat. The car drove on a couple of blocks, and then pulled over. We approached the car and the officer rolled down his window and told us to move back and wait; she would e released soon. We obliged. I recognized the girl as one of our visitors from Johnson City, and so when I saw the other members of OJC, I ran over to tell them where she was. The five of us waited, and eventually the girl was released. She told us that the officer had been taking her to the courthouse when he was ordered, over the radio, to give her a citation and release her. She said his response was, "You've got the be fucking kidding me." We walked her back to the camp, and from there Lance, Butch and I set off to meet up with everyone at the courthouse. By the time we got there, the rest of the people had been given citations and released, and we continued the march.
*For the record, my supposedly left-wing sign says, "Something better is what I'm after, and no less."
**For the record, John was well-dressed and clean-cut. How strange that we, as people, can see what we expect to see, rather than what is actually there.
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