The South appears with the first cotton fields, row upon row of brown and white plants oblivious to their own tragic history. Next, you see the lonely peanut shacks situated between stands of halfway desiccated pine trees, those especially southern pines with the thin pale needles looking like caterpillar fluff. Soon you become aware of the suffocating drape of kudzu, covering anything and everything that it can get its determined tendrils wrapped around. Then come the tobacco fields with their shiny yellow-green leaves bringing death knell promises. These are the northern reaches of the South; poetic and complex.
The train I boarded in Philadelphia, much earlier that day, pulls into Raleigh, NC over an hour late. I had met Edgery on the train, and together we join ExpatGirl and MsSpentyouth in the final moments of the late afternoon for the ride west to Asheville. The sky soon grows dark. Even if we are chasing the sun, we don’t go fast enough to counter the turning of the earth... And anyway, the clouds are thickening.
The rains that will saturate much of the weekend begin. In my long-day-of-travel haze, the wet road produces the most beautiful hallucinations. Red tail lights on the pick-up before us bring an aurora borealis to the pavement, flickering and shimmering for the better part of an hour. Each and every sign creates a colorful rectangle, stretching into a blurry wonder across the lanes and down the shoulder. For hours, I have been listening to stories of the good fight for a better North Carolina. It is a hard road.
At 11:30 p.m., after a very long day, I finally stumbled into the lobby of what I will refer to as the unofficial hotel.
For a girl accustomed to cheap motels and occasional sofas, the unofficial hotel is absolutely luxurious to me. The lobby is luxurious. The bed is luxurious. The bathroom is luxurious. The greetings and hugs from my two roommates, peregrine kate and ZenTrainer, are especially luxurious. But the pillows... The amount of pillows is also luxurious, but the pillows themselves are notable for their pain-inducing, sinking-into-flatness, nasty and supremely lumpy anti-luxuriousness.
But that’s okay. As much as this was vacation for any number of us, and it was a combination of vacation, learning experience, social engagement, and life hinge, for me anyway... Vacation is not why we were really here. This is not why I came all this way. This is not why I spent hard-earned and dearly saved money that I really need to move cross-country with before the end of this year.
I came to Asheville to listen.
I came to listen to the words and voices of others. I came to be inspired by the good works and intense activism of those I so admire. I came to observe the process. I came to learn everything I could possibly learn about being part of an effective movement for desperately needed change in this broken-down country of ours. And if we did not love our country deeply, if this was not intrinsic to our very character, then not one of us would be here.
Friday was part preamble, part overture and part main event in its own right. The inedible-for-wheat-free-me morning fish fry was like a homecoming for people I never met in person... But knowing people from an online world such as Daily Kos, where we know each other through not much more than our written words... We KNOW each other. And to finally see each other in person... It fluctuates between mind-blowing and a familiar sense of “well, of course, this is you”.
And so we hug, smile, talk, be talkative, be shy, be happy. It feels like home. This was a pure moment of home. And this sense of home keeps going throughout the whole weekend.
The earliest autumn leaves outside of Asheville
Post-fish, we found our way into the sanctuary of the Saint James AME Church. As a nice Jewish girl from New York City, I was never really much of a church-goer. And generally speaking, because of both history and politics, I am not all that comfortable in most church situations. But this church experience was fine. It was welcoming. I sat in the back after trying out the middle of the room for a few moments. However, between being an introvert, and also suffering hot flashes that morning, the heat was a bit much. I needed a little air to breathe with no one sitting behind me, and I found exactly what I needed in the back pew.
But those things are not all that important at this moment. What was important, was listening. Listening was and is and always will be important. Being in the moment and listening and paying attention... That’s what is important. Listening to the Reverend Brent La Prince Edwards talk and sing, and listening to the stunning singing by Yara Allen (while quietly joining in with my own little kitten voice), and listening, omigosh, listening to our very own Denise Oliver-Velez, who is the most magnificent orator, I could listen to Denise talk about pretty much anything for hours, but to hear her speak; what a gift and what a treat.
The listening was sublime.
And then to hear, to listen to, to be right there in the very same room with the Reverend William Barber II while he spoke to us, to breathe the same air that everyone else was breathing while we listened to him speak to us... While we breathed in his words, both urgent and eloquent. Watch and listen to the video in navajo’s diary. I can add little more.
Except that... Oh to be in that room! You could feel history being made every single minute all around you. Because this was a joining of movements. And it was and it is and it will be powerful!
And then the immediate moments afterward, as it seemed at least half the people in attendance came forward to shake hands with the Reverend William Barber and to get a photograph with him, and I came forward too, to thank him in general, but also to thank him in particular for mentioning the importance of artists and writers to the movement, and he introduced me to Yara Allen, and I am somehow given the idea to help write the lyrics to a new generation of protest songs, to become one of the songwriters for this new movement, and this is powerful stuff... And I don’t take a picture because I wanted to take every single second to breathe in this particular air, and to absorb the energy of being in the midst of all these magnificent people that I have been absolutely blessed to be in the company of at this exact moment in time, in history, in this very space, with those gorgeous Asheville hills and mountains and trees and rain and sky just outside the church walls.
I will never forget those moments. And I will carry them forward with me in all my upcoming endeavors to do what I can to help make positive change.
Yes, I had come to Asheville to listen.
Bywater sunflower, heavy and droopy
But, I also came to have a little fun. Because, this was the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation for some time. And because fellow Kossacks. And because beautiful dreamy Asheville. And because the earliest days of autumn, despite the rain. And because we are so very lucky to be alive.
And so my weekend posse and I; my roommates peregrine kate and ZenTrainer, along with Jon Sitzman, drove off to the River Arts District to explore and talk to a few local artists and to eat a yummy lunch in the late afternoon. And then we were off to the Bywater to go figure that out (it was a little confusing, to say the least). But I was in go-with-the-flow mode, and so made the best of it. And there was some best-of-it to be made, including meeting the fabulous Sarah S. who assisted all of us in making some sense of this part of the event. And then we were off again to go explore downtown Asheville after dark. This included a late dinner of some excellent curry, provided by an excellent curry house, and served by the sweetest waitress ever, who was working her very first excellent night.
And then we were off again... Back to the unofficial hotel for another sleep-deprived night in the most luxurious bed with the biggest pile of the most awful pillows. And so ended the first full day, filled to the brim with the most wonderful new friends. So much to absorb, so much on one’s mind to so easily keep one from falling asleep for quite awhile.
Bywater sunflower, with power lines
The main course of the weekend began early Saturday morning with conference registration, name tags, greetings and coffee. Find a table in the conference room, choose a seat and settle in to one’s personal home base for the day. This is where we continue to listen. And take notes. And engage in questions and answers, along with the sharing of ideas and knowledge.
There were talks and interviews and slides and videos and conversations and song and discussions on a variety of important and urgent topics. All were interesting and relevant and inspiring and moving and beyond worthwhile. I found myself drifting off a little bit in the late afternoon, but just the same, I caught every word, even if my eyes were half-lidded for a small amount of time. I took some notes. But mostly I listened. And absorbed until full.
During the breaks we spoke and we listened to each other... In line inside the ladies’ room, in line for coffee and other drinks, in line for lunch, while eating lunch, while scrounging around the leftovers from lunch, and while wandering and stretching our legs from sitting, whenever it was time to wander around and stretch our legs.
The day was amazing. And the best recap can be found here, in navajo’s diary (which includes links to earlier Asheville diaries, plus many of my own photos of people at the event): Daily Kos Connects Asheville: Our Video & Photo-heavy Report on the September 26th Conference
Saturday early evening, leaving the conference center, we wandered in a random sort of parade, in ones and twos, through downtown Asheville; around this corner, then around that one, up a small hill, down another incline...And there we are, following one another into the back room of a darkened brewery, where we find another table, take another seat, get a drink, fill a plate, settle in, converse, glow.
And take some more photos. And try desperately to preserve that which moves full speed ahead through time. Begin to get a little sad.
I wrote in my silly notebook: I LOVE this group and I long suspected the Daily Kos community was something like LRY, and it is, and once again I am so LUCKY to be a part of it all... Including all the hugs and love. Lots of hugs and love.
Bywater sunflower, heavy with seeds
Come Sunday morning, and we are fortunate to have a lovely breakfast at our unofficial hotel with the excellent company of OPOL and son. And on the way out we are greeted by randallt and joieau before loading up the car with our luggage. And then we head over to attend the official brunch at the official hotel for the final scheduled event of the Daily Kos Connects Asheville conference, where we are once again fortunate to arrive just in time for some final good-byes with navajo and kos, and we wait with them for their taxi to the airport, while we take yet more pictures.
And then we go inside the official dining room in the even more luxurious official hotel. We settle in for the remainder of the morning for more of the good talk and the bad coffee and the superb company and the hugs and the love and the good-byes, and then the lingering conversations in the lobby. And the next thing we know the bags and suitcases are in the trunk and there is the road heading east before us in the twists and turns and downwards slopes through the fog and the rain and the faint hints of sunlight between the drifting clouds and the very first autumn leaves beckoning in red and yellow and orange. Always the color orange.
Driving away on Sunday
In the South, it is near impossible to get a good cup of hot tea. It sometimes feels like nothing but white flour and biscuits and gravy and various fried things and the cross... And what to my northern ears is a fascinating chorus of lovely accents. So much is the same all over, yet so much else is distinct to place, to state, to region.
But I was there. I was right there, riding in cars with people who are on the front lines. I was there, sitting and standing in large and small rooms with people who are on the front lines. I was there, graced with the companionship of people who are on the front lines... Every month, every week, every single day. They were there. They are there. They are all on the front lines of the good fight. And I was there, listening to each and every one of them; observing, absorbing, soaking it all in, until I was full to bursting with admiration, inspiration and determination.
I went to Asheville to listen.
And I learned much in the process of listening to the realities of life in the South, and the various social and political struggles. Because in listening, you see that the South is reflective of this whole country; so much that afflicts it with such pain, and yet so much that brings it such beauty. And so, as we are all in the early stages of what the Reverend William Barber II called “America’s Third Reconstruction”, we take what we have learned, individually and collectively, and move forward.
I wrote in a comment in one of the early Asheville diaries:
...So much to absorb, so much to think about, so much to realize. What an amazing weekend... A huge seed of a weekend, just now being planted. What a strong and gorgeous tree of knowledge, community and activism will grow from this.
I was thinking fairly recently about the impending awfulness of inevitable climate change and what can we possibly do, now that the tipping point has been tipped. What can we do? We do what we can, whatever we can, what little we can, however much we can. We do everything possible. We do something a little better each day, make a change for the better, something more each and every day. We look out for each other. We do what we can for ourselves; not selfishly, but with self-responsibility, while we look out for our families, our friends, our neighbors, our communities... We do whatever we can. And we love each other. Because in the end, that’s all we’ve got.
And this applies to any issue we are faced with. And it seems that to even deal with climate change on any kind of grand scale, we have got to change electoral politics. And to do something about the subtle and not-so-subtle-war against African Americans, against Native Americans, against Latinos, the war against the poor and the soon-to-be-poor, the war against LGBTQ folks and the war against women... To do something, anything, we have got to change the situation with voter suppression and the resulting electoral politics. And sometimes it feels like such an impossibly uphill battle.
But we do what we can with what we’ve got, considering our own temperaments and talents and abilities and skill sets... And we connect with each other and build coalitions and create movements and become committed allies. And truthfully, this is all so very exciting and positive. Therefore, you do as much as you can. You find your cause or your causes (singular or plural), even if it is just a little bit of something for the time being, because it all adds up, it all builds towards the future, the drops accumulate in the bucket until full. And if you can’t do this, then you do that. And you most definitely dance to this revolution... And you sing and you join hands and you hug and you love, because the only reason for doing any of this is LOVE... For each other, for future generations, for this country and for the world, for the planet and all creation.
I came to Asheville and I listened.