I showed up around eight in the evening. It took me a long time to get over there. I made tea. I tried to make money by keeping up my social media and other web clients. I talked to a friend, stared at the window and spent time petting the cats. I was nervous, maybe, or slightly feeling sheepish that it had taken me days to finally take a look around #occupywallstreet. Finally, I went, with my backpack on and my things organized inside. I’m so one of the 99% it makes me tired sometimes. My old habits of spinning make me want to curl up and call it a day, but my new habits make me want to see what’s going on…no one is going to ask me, “Why weren’t you here sooner?” is what I remind myself. It’s OK…you can go. So I did.
First I heard the drums and so I started to smile. I love music, if you didn’t know, drums especially. OK, so that was nice. I started to move a little faster after all the reluctant behavior. Next, as I was crossing the street, I heard the faint echoes of the daily General Assembly. That was a little bittersweet. How humbling for these folks to have to exercise their right to speech with no megaphones or PAs; but then again…they seemed OK with it, doing their best. I walked around, saw the police. I heard some of them politely refusing food, “You guys feed me too much. I’m getting fat!” said a young officer, and he and the occupier, well they laughed.
I stopped and listened. I slid my book into their library, seeing as poetry seemed to be welcomed. I asked around, took in all the stations of medical, media, etc. Definitely, whether it was Adbusters or some mix of other groups, there was organization if not cohesive ideology and hierarchy. Of course, there was the media tent. I could already recognize the faces from the live feed, shiny and bright-eyed, working by generator. There were on the perimeter, too, lots of cameras. Lots of people. Lots of phones. Lots of voices. And somewhere in the center of it I felt that this thing was just getting started. I wasn’t late at all. No one it seems, is late to history.
I stopped by an older homeless woman and asked her how she liked things. She said it was safer here than in most places. I couldn’t help but agree with her. It made me wonder if this political movement might not find itself developing a real project not just to protest but to immediately improve the lives of some of our most needy. Of course, this woman, after a few minutes of talking, well I realized she was kind of a paranoid schizophrenic type. She liked it a lot that most of these kids were light-skinned, too. That…brought about one of the unfortunate observations I had, there was a long way to go before everyone felt the need to join in and engage the powers that be into reform. But that was OK for now. Things could change at any moment. Break down enough walls, show people how alike they really are and sooner or later, connections shape and grow and false barriers dissolve.
I got to a small, privately-owned park where the revolution is kinda going on. It’s not much but it’s not nothing either, and that was both inspiring and humbling and full of fodder for everyone’s growth. This is a #phoenixmoment, where old patterns get burned away and new ones are just waiting to take place. I’ll go back again the next 24 hours and learn a little more and share what I can.
