Occupy Everything?

“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” - Arundhati Roy 

 

2011, the year our collective, burning desire for freedom could no longer be contained. The media couldn't black it out. Our instinct for denial and "everything's going to be OK" couldn't hold under pressure. From North Africa to Spain to Greece - the beginning and possible end of Western civilization - the rise-up reverberated. And finally, it couldn't stay away from U.S. shores. 

 

As we all stand at the dawn of this "new year" - as far as our meticulous, calendar control of time really means anything - I feel an overwhelming, sharp awareness of surroundings. So aware, I could fill a giant canvas, write an entire book, drink a whole bottle of wine, walk through the woods all day in celebration. But for now, it feels right to remain content with just the real moments. A friendship-affirming New Year's celebration on a bike trail, a walk through downtown, a drunken rooftop party, an extended snuggle with three big cats and a beautiful sunny New Year's Day with reflections in the park and more exploration by bike. All the moments like these from 2011, I could fill up pages and pages retelling them. From New Year's in Vigo, Spain to Morocco in February to bike rides through the Flemish countryside in the spring, to No Border and Greece and Bulgaria and the Critical Mass in Paris to teaching and living in Lille in between. What binds them all together is the great fortune of crossing paths with amazing, life-changing human beings. 

 

Besides the travel posts, politics hasn't really made an appearance here yet. But politics is a big part of this journey. Specifically, the politics of resistance. Going to Europe highly undereducated on what resistance looks like there, let alone a good idea of what I wanted my own resistance to look like produced overwhelming results. A high-speed race through a kaleidoscope of social center concerts, meetings, big public demonstrations, dumpster diving, free vegan meals, documentaries & discussions, direct action immigrant solidarity work, gardens, bike rides, organic food, carnivals, feminist spaces, radical teaching, etc. etc. And a constant nagging feeling of being the floating American tourist, of not doing enough.

Since coming to Houston and despite staying at my mom's place outside of the city, I have made a concerted effort to connect the dots of all that I've learned with the here and now. And finally, painfully I come to realize that we can't and shouldn't try to "Occupy Everything." A huge part of my current journey is learning to recognize and embrace the spaces that I want to occupy in my regular life. This means not going to every single meeting, event or show because it seems like "the right thing to do." It means listening to my body and head and how they react to different circumstances. It means being in control of my comfort levels and knowing the right times to step out of that zone. It means being more assertive, straightforward and focused on passions and carefully choosing with whom to share them. Above all, it means being aware.

The time here is growing into a microcosm of my life, including all my various screwed-up relationships and bitter internal battles. I have 2-3 weeks to wait for that ever elusive 12-month teaching placement in South Korea. The closer February gets, the more frustrating the process. The harder to retail cashier during a busy holiday season and come home to my mother's unhappy house. Yet again and again, I am filled with the desire of letting it all flow, grasping the possibility for magic in any place, at any time. The prospect of staying in place - enduring - and engaging in a vision of community living and radical organizing suddenly seems like a viable and totally valid option. I told myself that post-Europe 2011 would bring amazing, unexpected experiences and the premonition has proven true. When I look at it holistically, when I see the big picture, it seems more right than I could ever imagine. 

We spoke of the Tao and I am rapidly plowing through this newer classic  on stepping outside of modern life. Interconnectedness, from a radical perspective, means recognizing that no person is an island and there is no individual problem that can't be tied to our collective broken spirit and disconnect from ourselves. Those of us facing the challenge of building sustainable communities from an infrastructure of fragmented, isolated life on our dying planet come up against nothing short of unlearning, deconstructing and creating something new. 

I am still sick on the inside. I still grapple with a host of demons every day. But I am filled with energy and anticipation of where this journey will lead next.

Another World is Possible