The weather is getting warmer and my inner Abbie Hoffman has a message for you...
First, I must confess my record of activism.
In May of 2004 I was at a large hippie festival, sitting on drums around a bonfire howling at the moon. I love to drum all night, we dance and drum until dawn at this is festival regularly. Around 4 am the rhythm is in you. You are a beating heart of humanity, you open up, you get loose, you lose a part of yourself to the rhythm, and you hum with the sacred joy of having nothing on your mind. It is when you are unattached to your thoughts that you truly see them for what they are. A great feeling. I lost my hatred for the wars of profit, the men that started it, and the way I felt personally disregarded by a system that professes equality and rarely delivers. My disappointment was still there, but my hatred, my pure unadulterated hatred was gone. I felt empowered. Let love rule. I cried. The beauty of the sentiment was too much for my heart to handle. I circled the fire hugging people and then sat down to play a beat with my human family. I suddenly realized that I had made the transition from Anti-war to Pro-peace. I looked around at the blissful expressions of the people dancing and drumming around me. I was not alone. I didn't think of this, I realized it.
As the sun rose, I watched it clear the trees. I swept up my gear and went back to my shady tent to sleep. When I woke I went to the camp kitchen for breakfast, well lunch if you want to be technical. My friends revived the conversation going on for the last 2 or 3 years, the state of world affairs. By 2004 the track for the train ride we're on now had well been laid. I was still blissed out from the night before and was listening, mostly. After an hour or so, I asked a question, "What are you going to do about it?"
Silence
I realized that without action that complaints were futile. I started to talk about going to Washington and acting. State that we don't want the powers that be to die or for bad things to happen to them, we want them to change. Bush and co needed to change or leave. Realize compassion and stop this senseless killing or get out. Go home, play some violent video games, and shoot machine guns in the backyard. Whatever it takes to give this instinct an outlet. But most of all the killing needed to stop. I watched the news around the world and saw what the "enemy" sees. Pictures of bloody, mangled corpses of children. Videos of women watching their children die on the table while volunteer doctors do what they can. Compared to the sterile western media, which said things like we are winning and talking about the money we were spending and/or saving on this war to "liberate". The topic of mangled corpses never seemed to make it. The end result is people are dying by the hundreds daily and we were to blame. We must make our conviction as strong as our rhetoric. We need to recreate the energy we feel right now and bring it to Washington. Maybe it will spread. Maybe more will realize that we are all one big dysfunctional human family and smile more. Maybe they will realize to live compassionately. Maybe they will smile at the barista in the morning.
Believe it or not my words did not fall on deaf ears. We agreed to go to DC on the fourth of July. I spent the interim time traveling the country and trying to get more people to come and make a funky show of peace. I read "Revolution for the hell of it" and re-read "Steal this Book" and meditated on levitating the Pentagon. I thought it might be fun to collect some water from the peaceful Blue Ridge Mountains where I grew up. It had been a minute since the last time I hugged my mom. Then my wife, and my friend Ryan and I got in the car and went to Fairfax. We met up with the group that actually made it at a friends house. Met up with the amazing and talented songwriter SJ Tucker and her crew of fire performers. We took the Metro to DC.
It was like the opening scene in Saving Private Ryan. We were on the train heading towards uncertainty. When we got to the Mall we went to a the Sgt Stewart protest. Sgt. Stewart was a Wiccan killed in the line of duty. He requested that a pentacle (symbol of his faith) be engraved on his headstone at Arlington National Cemetery. The Bush administration blocked his request. Just another item for the laundry list. I tried to recruit people to go to the White House to join Code Pink and The Gold Star Mothers and give them a beat! I ended up with nine. There was a huge thunderstorm on the way. I wanted to get there before the storm. I went ahead. The NORML protest was underway when I got there. They had a stage and a microphone. Every speaker gave the same list of complaints and sat down. None of them had any action planned, just talk. Reinforcements arrived and it was easy to give them a beat! People dancing and making love. YES!!! At around that time we could see the storm on the horizon. Ditch the idea of holy water, nature had provided more than we could handle. We brought trash bags and we tied them to the heads of the goat skin drums. When the storm came we kept on drumming. The wind was enough to fell trees, people ran for shelter, and we kept on with the beat under an umbrella with barefoot dancers circling us. I know Bush was there with Prime Minister Stephen Harper. I imagined them looking out the window at the approaching storm and seeing us. The crazy brave dancing in the rain.
The storm passed and we decided to regroup. Everyone was headed for the mall to get a good spot for the fireworks. We thought that it would be great to go to the Washington Monument and make it a beacon of positive energy. When we got to the mall we learned that they closed it to clear the debris from the storm. The line at the Homeland Security checkpoint was seemingly endless. Going down Constitution Ave for at least a mile. Why not walk to the other side? By the time we got to there the line would have died down and we could start a jam at the Lincoln Memorial. As we walked, we had fun asking the people in line if they felt safe lined up against a wall.
When we got to the Temple of Apollo, (call it Lincoln Memorial, if you like). We got up on the water and stared down our previous location... all the way over there. Then, having walked the length of the Capitol Mall, decided to sit down and rest.
We tuned drums and glowed about the experience at the White House. Well hydrated and rested, we started drumming again. We were just freeforming it and having fun. Trancing out and in just keeping the beat. People started to gather. In front of us we could see hundreds and hundreds of people arriving. About 200 university students wearing the same shirt got in a circle and started dancing ecstatically. People started to form a perimeter and the crowd was growing and growing. We kept drumming and SJ Tucker and her partner K spun poi, the kids kept dancing their asses off, and people were watching with bright faces and smiles. I looked around and saw people from many nations, people sporting Tshirts proclaiming every extreme political slogan, young, old, straight, gay, etc... They couldn't agree about anything, but they were all bobbing their heads to the beat. Unified in rhythm, I hoped the hate began to wash away. We brought the beat to a crecendo and stopped. The applause was thunderous. While we were facing the Washington Monument, the stairs of the Temple filled with people. It was a roar of more than five thousand voices screaming out for peace.
Now it is 2011. Still at war, still having sensible debate squashed by fallacy, and still killing people. What can we do?
Have a party at the Tea Party.
Why do we need to shout easily ignored slogans? Why not show some love at a party. A block party. Hoot and holler, smile and proclaim your right to party! You want a society that is fun to be in. Divorce your hate. Indulge your child. Why not attend every one of these rallies as a missionary for the cause of reason fueled by love. Why not talk and try to engage them one on one. Bring them a bottle of water and ask what they think is really going on. Listen carefully, many of the Tea Partiers are where they are because they care. Just like you. Use that as a bond and try to build a bridge based on common respect and desires. Talking to people is a great way to change minds. Make your position known and the reason behind it. Who knows maybe you'll get a few over the wall.
Think funny.
A slogan is alright, but a catch phrase is much better. Think like a comedian or enlist the services of one. I think of Al Franken. He is a funny guy, I loved watching him on Saturday Night Live and love him ever more on the Senate Floor. He had a great one, "You are entitled to your own opinion, but not to your own facts."
Use introspection.
Where does the hate come from in you? If you can answer that, you'll be able to change it. You can even help others change it. Pro-peace isn't a purely external venture!
Create a difference.
If the news covers your counter demonstration. SMILE! You are going to be contrasted with a guy holding a sign reading, "End the Government". If people see people having a good time, doing the civic duty of expressing opinions by gathering, and making light of the situation to boot, people might ask the question, "Which of these groups do I belong to? The cool fun one, or the screamy crazy one?" It's a struggle of will and popularity all rolled into one.
Be Factual.
Everything you say must be footnoted. If you quote something, reveal the source. We are the reasonable ones, remember? Read up and keep current. Ideology is a hard thing to overcome. Inspire creativity and further study, it is the only thing that works. Like a virus, the truth may take a few days to sink in. Don't fuck that up with opinions and misinformation. Just the facts, ma'am. If they do what you ask them to, they will check your information against Google. They will attempt to think critically, we hope they succeed. At least if they still disagree, they might come up with real rational argument based on fact. A pleasant welcome to all caps retorts laced with racial slurs and regurgitated Glenn Beck.
We aim to make the hate disappear, to break through and make contact with the one thing that all humans have, minds and hearts. Hate is a powerful blinder. Poke as many holes in it as possible. Ask them to compare what they are saying to reality. These are blue collar folks, they are bound to have a relative on disability or receiving medicare. They are certain to know and love someone who is on food stamps. Why do they want to inflict this hardship upon them? What did they do to deserve it?
Redirect the Tea Party activism to the cause of justice and equality. We are all getting royally screwed. You, me, and them. I needn't remind you of the tactics used by the monied one percent. That monied one percent is counting on their votes. Show them why they shouldn't give it. Lets win them, not defeat them.