Goldie and Dandelion on the Beauty and Truth tour.

Through the woods I'm goin',
Through the bogs and mire,
Straightway down the road,
To my heart's desire

If I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be
Go where I would, I cannot. 

Today in Florida, i was greeted by circling birds of prey, butterflies, belladonna, lizards, young girls named Aurora and Evangeline playing with flowers in a culdesac, warm lemons sweet in the sun, dragonflies, and a giant pine cone from some phantom great pine tree. The journey has been at times beautiful and illuminating and at times, very hard and trying work. Most of my sleep has come in the back seat of the car, while my soul-mirror sweet sunny sister friend Goldie takes the wheel.

Goldie and Dandelion, on tour for beauty and truth.

I have heard stories from residents of towns along the way. How they're coping with the struggle of being alive in the world today. There is so much hardship, so much disease, poverty, and pain. People are trying to make good lives for themselves, but the resources are so scarce. I go into all these roadside markets- these places along the road which should be unique centers of trade, waiting in welcome for sojourners. Instead, we find the same damn thing over and over. A vast display of non-food substances in brightly colored packages, newspapers and magazines with mind-boggling heaadlines designed to distract people from eachother and the natural world, tobacco and caffeinated mutant beverages decorating this bizarre, fake plastic, fluorescent-lit would-be oasis.

At least the humans there are individuals. Dee in Florida told us about http://survivalist.info/ which is an awesome resource for us all right now. Joe in Georgia told us about how ridiculous it is, that in his neighborhood there are all these empty homes, and the garbage pickup service leases garbage cans to each one, yet there are families living two to one house, sharing also the garbage can and not allowed to use the unused. Sounds like a common situation, no? How many homes are empty? How many people need homes? What is going on here?

 Sherl, Ashley, and Ashanti, in South Carolina, I think, (we were a little road-weary and not sure if we'd crossed a border yet) told me where I could go for a salad bar, informed me of all the grocery options (IGA, Publix, Walmart) and treated me so kind. Ashley, probably in her late teens or early twenties, had bright eyes, and a beautiful smile. Ashanti, probably about four years old, gave me the sweetest hug. Sherl was kind to take her time explaining to Goldie and I where we might find some real food. We decided not to stop, though, as our journey was a winding one.

It was Wednesday when I left Baltimore. The night before, I rode a borrowed bike down to McKeldin Park, where Occupy Baltimore makes its home. I got to participate in the discussion between small groups about how to spend the time of GA's. I think this is probably a common thing amongst growing occupations. How long should we spend talking about camp-specific issues (like quiet time, tent-sharing rules, how to deal with people who disturb the peace there, etc) and how much time to devote to political action and ideas. The night I was there, we discussed a few ideas that seemed promising, including having a weekly schedule of changing focus topics, and designating one weekend day and one week day for large-scale meetings in hopes of gathering greater attendance from the general public who cannot devote as much time to being in the square.

I just learned that police refused to allow local band, Celebration, to perform at the Occupy space. Ridiculous. I don't know what the specific issues are, here is a facebook thread about it: http://www.facebook.com/#!/permalink.php?story_fbid=163063733789607&id=144588345637146

Here is an electric tarot card:


I arrived around 9pm to gather Goldie and her things for the drive south. She was heading to Florida, where she was raised, to audition for a film on Saturday, which is today, and I am currently sitting in her family's home, typing this to you while she is finishing up the audition. We met on Sunday, the 6th, after the Tar Sands action to stop the Keystone XL Pipeline, which you may have heard about... The action reached the objective and Obama has halted the project, "indefinitely" and I hope that's the truth, but we will continue to protect the planet from such atrocities, no matter when they're threatened again.

The next thing to really stand up for, that I know about as a resident of the East Coast, is November 21 in Trenton, NJ. Its very important. You should probably go, and/or, call/write to the governors of NY and Delaware, and Obama's rep and tell them off about fracking. http://savethedelawareriver.com

This is no joke. Our natural resources are under attack, and WE MUST vocalize our non-consent. The rivers don't speak a language the politicians hear, but you do. You have power. Use it!


The night in DC before we set off south was pretty instense. I won't bother with the myriad details, I'll save them in case anyone ever wants to write a screenplay about this wild wild ride. Suffice to say, we didn't leave DC limits until nearly 6am. We'd hoped to stop at the Richmond Occupy, but our directions were faulty from our exhaustion, and we didn't realize until we'd already passed by. The brave Occupiers there, though, had decided to ReOccupy Richmond that very night, after their first camp was bulldozed by the Commonwealth. From what Ben in Baltimore told me, the laws are different in Virginia because it is a commonwealth rather than a state, and the government functions differently there. Huh! Wierd! Whodathunkit? Anyway, I guess the authorities have been pretty harsh. I would have loved to come and meet the courageous ReOccupiers, and I hope to in the near future.

Goldie and I brought a box of the Occupied Washington Times, distributed by the encampment on K street in DC. We left them at rest stops and gas stations, in waiting areas, in newspaper boxes, diaper-changing tables in womens' restrooms, and in lots of peoples' hands. If I'd prepared more for this, I'd have printed some pamphelets myself with some more direction for online resources. People are hungry for information. A lot of people haven't yet heard about what we're doing. They will, though, and I hope when they do that they're getting an accurate idea of what we're all about.

Relying on a lot of kind strangers, we got the engine checked (theres a lot of corrosion in mine which leads to a very noisy ride) we got to sleep in a safety-patrolled parking lot rather than a seedy motel, and found places to purchase food and natural remedies. We meandered beneath tall pines at rest areas, and examined the varieties in small islands of plant life between asphalt and concrete corridors. We collected roses and marigolds and geraniums, pinecones and spanish moss, little living mementos of our journey.

To fuel our bodies, we've been consuming mostly nuts, fruits, bee pollen and propolis in raw honey, and coconut butter, along with some supplements and a lot of water. So far, so good. It feels like we've struck a natural rhythm together.



Goldie and I are an interesting match. Dandelion and Goldie, Golden girls, soul-mirror sisters. The coincidences are uncanny, but I won't draw them out too far right now. We're both 28-yr-old aquarians with long blonde hair and an unrelenting feeling of responsibility to the planet. We are true mirrors to eachother, and are constantly learning from our shared experiences, able to collect new information about how to integrate aspects of the other into our own personalities. She is much more organized and practical, so well-informed and formulaic about implementing action. I am so very intuitive and abstract, motivated by my sense of beauty and adventure. Our bottom lines are the same, though, and we both mean business about this task ahead of building a new world.

As a movement, we really are shaping the world to come. The existing power structure is failing before our eyes, and I believe our movement is here to provide a true safety net for when the inevitable collapse leaves people stranded in unfamiliar territory, with no money and none of the supposed security of the previous paradigm. What we are now building is a different type of infrastructure, powered by people and the natural world, a true world community. We are connected via this information age already. Now, we will connect also in person and on the ground. There is so much power for change accessible to us all right now.

Now is the time to clean up your life. We are working on healing here. We must all heal from the inside out and the outside in. Cleaning up our minds, bodies, homes, yards, neighborhoods, towns, counties, states, regions, countries, and earth are all part of the same task. This is the true occupation. It is time to heal. We can do it together.


On the road I get so hungry for information! It is like water, and I find myself so glad when I get to spend some time on the internet. My updates may be sparse as I travel, but I will try to give my best when I can. There is so much more to this story! There will continue to be more! Shout out to the sweet hearts of OccupyJax (Jacksonville FL) who welcomed us into their standing occupation the other night. No camping! The occupiers take shifts! Everyone is so awesome. Everything is going to be alright.

Hopefully, we're heading towards New Orleans very soon, though the road seems to direct our course somewhat. We both have work we know we have to do now, and its a beautiful thing. Maybe I'll see you in Trenton on the 21st to save the Delaware River from poisoning, or on the 22nd in DC to welcome the sojourners walking from NYC through Philly and Baltimore to our nations capital. I hope we have a huge party on the whitehouse lawn. It is our own yard, after all. Or maybe I'll see you in your own hometown!

Much love to all! Be good!

NOVEMBER 6, Spectra Pipeline/Tar Sands Action at the White House

I will be less able to update between tomorrow and November 8th, as I will be traveling, sans computer, to Baltimore and Washington, DC.

Listen to Mark Ruffalo. Then join him, me, and thousands of others in DC on November 6

http://salsa3.salsalabs.com/o/2133/p/salsa/web/common/public/signup?signup_page_KEY=6006


watch this, as well, you can stop after 2/3 through as the end is a call to action for something that already happened. but come, on november 6!

Tar Sands Action/ Josh Fox from JFOX on Vimeo.

the revolution is beautiful; personal account

Ever since I spent the rest of the week at Occupy Wall Street, after the October 5 Labor March, I have been telling people that the revolution is beautiful. It is. I have met a lot of people out in the world who don't know that this revolution belongs to them, too. Those frightening images of police brutality scare some people away. Those other images of angry young rebels yelling their demands also scare some people away. These things exist. In my experience, they are the slim exception, not the rule. The rule is love. The rule is acceptance, realistic optimism, and solidarity. The movement is a demonstration, not exactly a protest. To me, it looks like a gathering of people who have been fighting institutionalized abuse, refusing to buy in to the concept of consumerism as salvation, and doing their best to live outside the dominant paradigm now coming together to show the rest of America and the world, "Look. There is a better way. We CAN take care of everyone. We CAN have real community. The good life is possible. We've been doing our best to live it and you can, too. Our government should support us."

On the day of Naomi Klein's speech, I arrived two hours prior, planning to survey the scene before listening to one of my biggest heroes speak. Before I knew it, the echoing of the peoples' mic at the other end of the park jolted me from whatever conversation I was having at the time, to go and listen. Time at Occupy Wall Street moves in the way self-improvement books will tell you time moves when you've found your passion. It moves fluidly. I found myself going effortlessly from one engaging moment to the next.

There were three or more waves of the peoples' mic (people repeating the speaker's words, in waves so it spreads to the outside) awhen I walked up. I found a dead zone, where only every other word or so was audible. Everyone around me was straining to listen, so I felt compelled to find a spot where I could hear and project into that place where the words were being lost. Naomi Klein's words were so moving, so sweet. It was funny to watch her catch herself each time she forgot to wait for the waves of human voices to reach the outer circles. It was amazing, thrilling, beautiful to feel and internalize the truth in her words while repeating them in my own voice with hundreds of other voices. Her last words: "Treat this movement as if it's the most important thing in the world, because it is."

A General Assembly began soon after, and again I felt compelled to lend my voice where it felt necessary. It was my first assembly, and I was introduced to the hand symbols which everyone is free to use to participate in the dialogue.




The GA was just so cool. I don't know if I had ever seen true democracy in action before. People cling to the notion of the Great American Democracy, but I remember learning in 4th grade or so, this is a Republic. In a true democracy, every person's voice counts equally. There are not representatives whose voices take the place of their constituents. While it definitely makes the process of decision-making slow and meandering, it also educates the people as they participate and does take into account certain perspectives which would certainly be neglected or underrepresented if the conversation was limited to some elite circle. The assembly I took part in went very slowly when the subject of money was included. The specific issue was that the Comittee for Arts and Culture was asking permission to pay money for security at a gallery event. The gallery space at 23 Wall Street was offered up, but in order to maintain safety codes for the turnout expected, security guards would be necessary. Most of the crowd was easily in favor, as the money being asked was a negligible amount compared to the total budget. After much ado, the motion was passed. Before that could happen, many concerns were aired, but many digressions began as well. Attendees were not all paying attention to the code of conduct and tried to exploit the free platform of being able to get one's voice heard to talk about themselves or other off-topic concerns. No one was shamed, but these people were made aware by the crowd that this was not the time or place. So, in the process, those participants learned how to effectively participate by staying on topic and lending attention to the ideas at hand. The motion passed and the Occupy Wall Street art show, No Comment was beautiful. (some photos)I went with my parents, who came down on the day it opened. It was a 24-hour exhibit. My original intent to go was that there would be bathrooms! Using McDonald's and Pret a Manger gets old after awhile, and I sometimes feel a kind of debt if I use their resources and don't make a purchase. My parents and I walked towards Wall Street, and almost overlooked it, due to massive barricades and police presence. The gallery was right next to the stock exchange. We had to walk a full block extra to wind our way around the labyrinthine barricades.

I really enjoyed this image, appropriated from Alphonse Mucha by Libor Von Shonau




My visit to NYC was not solely for the movement, I was also meeting up with close friends who were visiting from Chicago, and I was visiting colleges to decide where I'm going. I didn't realize that once I became acquainted with Occupy Wall Street, I would have a hard time wanting to extricate myself. That first night, after the GA it was just past 10pm. An impromptu quiet jam session was happening and I couldnt help but sing and make joyful noise with others, especially when someone started playing Get Up, Stand Up. Who can resist?

 Most people think,
Great God will come from the skies,
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high.
But if you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on earth:
And now you see the light,
You stand up for your rights.

A lot of people were already laid out in sleeping bags by the time the quiet music died out. Spontaneous conversation bubbled between me and the Irish girl who was sitting by me during the music. We talked about the adventures of our lives, the darkness and the brilliance, and how comfortable we both felt in this place. These connections came so easily in this occupied space. People were so PRESENT, so available, so willing to operate on a deeply honest, soul-baring level. It was refreshing.

I hadn't planned to sleep in the park, but after awhile I realized I couldn't kid myself anymore, I couldn't drag myself away. A sweet young traveler had just arrived to the movement and I was his first contact. We talked about the places we've seen and I told him what I knew about this place. He shared his blanket with me in a very kind gesture. We talked about our values and our perspectives about the world. He was young and angry at the world, which I found endearing, but could not let my truth remain unspoken. I countered his argument that "to love, one must also hate," as I do not believe that love and hate are opposites! Love and loneliness are opposites, in my opinion, and I reiterated that I do not hate the oppressors. I don't. I pity them.

Besides the conversation, I was too distracted to sleep. The place we were in was right at the foot of the steps as one enters the park. I was cold, I was not feeling completely safe, and I had a lot to think about. Knowing that police were keeping watch over the park overnight was actually a comfort. I had waited too long to ask for blankets, and there were none left when I inquired. Next time, I will most definitely bring my own gear. We slept on cardboard appropriated from the sign-making station, and a layer of clothing, with the blanket on top. The wind blew right through, and I regretted not taking a crinkly, metallic, heat-conducting, space blanket. (side note: any industrious seamstresses/ tailors/ garment contructors out there, see what you can come up with for heat-conductor clothing?! space blankets could be a good material to keep people warm AND shiny all winter!)




After an apple and some tangerines for breakfast, brushing my teeth and peeing at McDonald's, I was pretty exhausted. News of a massive clean-up prevented me from seeking deep rest, so I sat by the Tree of Life and meditated for awhile. The Tree of Life is a tree at one corner of the park with a ring of marble benches around it, that occupiers have designated as a sacred space. There is a beautiful altar of offerings like chocolate, money, jewelry, flowers, words like "the heart wants what the heart wants" and multi-faith religious objects. At this space is also where one can find news and ways to participate in the Consciousness Committee. My involvement with the consciousness committee happened as spontaneously as so many other beautiful, magical things did during my attendance at ground zero of this revolution (which is RIGHT next to 9/11 Ground Zero, btw.)

Early in the day, I attended a theater games workshop with a dear new friend. I can't recall if it was under the title Theater of the Opressed, or Liberation Theater, something to an effect like that, led by a dynamic woman named Jenn. We played roles such as Opressor/Opressed and explored aspects of that relationship through games. We spontaneously created human sculptures expressing themes such as War, A Better Life, and Racism. A fun game we played was exploring a previously unknown partner's hands with eyes closed in silent physical dialogue, and then linking up with them again, blindly, amidst a mass of everyones' hands. Playing these games really dared me to challenge my own perspectives and see very simply, with no pretensions, where other people were coming from.

Walking back from Battery Park from this workshop which was held in the green space there, my friend and I, having our own sacred moment, were passed by the Consciousness Committee, about to hold a meeting about Sacred Space and planning. They went to the same green space we had just occupied to hold the meeting and I caught up with them at the tail end after taking care of some more mundane details I needed to see to. The part I got to tune in for was incredible. After finishing the meeting with assignments for sub-committees, like signs, writing, internet communications, etc, the 22 attendees formed a big circle, which we turned inside out while still linked by the hands. As one big circle of linked human beings, we sincerely shouted out into the public of Battery Park, "WE LOVE YOU!" and proceeded to form a nebula of bodies in group-hug formation, reaching out through our intentions and our voices, making tonal sounds to radiate metta loving kindness. I cannot express the feeling of being in the middle of this group. What a feeling!

One of the participants here was drawn to the group serendipitously, from his meanderings in Battery Park. He was a very kind-looking young man wearing white, and he said he knew he had just found his people. For years, he had carried with him these buffalo teeth, given to him by the granddaughter of a Native American Tribal Chief, Lakota if I remember correctly, but I'm not positive. In dispersing them amongst us, he told me there was exactly the right number for everyone present to get one. Besides being a symbolic object of connection between us all, this object has come to symbolize, for me, also my connection to a timeless movement where people have stood for Love and Compassion. The reighteous path in which one lives an honest life in accordance to natural law, HARMING NONE and honoring one's deepest truths.




That is what this movement is. Occupy Wall Street is an organism. The growing movements around the country and the world are proof of the way it can work when people come together for the common good. When you speak the truth, it comes out effortlessly, and people LOVE to listen to it!!! Since that first day, I have been interviewed multiple times by all kinds of media, including salon.com where I was interviewed alongside a very intelligent professor and architect, John Lowe. (I haven't been able to find any article where either of us is quoted, though.) Its amazing how communication flows so easily when the truth is behind it. A lot of people seem to want short answers to their questions, and I came to my short answer to the question, "why are you here?"

I am here to support a radical, progressive shift in the operating paradigm. I am here because the system into which I was born is NOT the world I want to live in, and I know there is a better way.

You can quote me on that if you like.


Besides food, blankets, friendships, vitamins, information,  healing energy work, and so much more, I was also given an opportunity to express myself creatively and passionately in support of a truth I fully, whole-heartedly believe in. What empowerment! This is a moment in time that I have been gearing up for for my entire life. What beautiful soul-rebels adorn this square in downtown Manhattan, and I am positive are also occupying all the other sites around the country and the world. I want to yell it from the rooftops, I want to sing it everywhere I go, The Revolution is Beautiful and it belongs to YOU!

My First Taste of the Revolution, October 5, a personal account.

Before my first chance to attend, I was actively following the movement from afar. My parents and my Aunt had attended on the day 700 peaceful protesters were arrested on the Brooklyn Bridge. My relatives were on the pedestrian walkway, watching the unfortunate crowd below. My mom sent me a picture message of my dad's arm. His round, mandala-like tattoo that includes the words "EQUAL RIGHTS AND JUSTICE" was visible along with the phone number for the National Lawyer's Guild, written in sharpie on his arm, in case of his own arrest.


 I love the family I was born into, so much.


My aunt is an out-of-work high school science teacher, with a disabled husband and a huge mortgage. I haven't seen her smile like this in a long time. Someone had a sign, "LOST MY JOB, FOUND AN OCCUPATION." Yes.


My own first taste was at the march held on Wednesday, October 5, with a LOT of union workers and student groups and all kinds of people, together, meeting in Foley Square, which is dominated by two huge courthouses and punctuated in the center by a sculpture called Triumph of the Human Spirit.


 some great photos of that day can be found here

On the way, I met some cool girls, I think they were Law students, I can't remember now. They were carrying Nurse's Union signs that someone had given them. It was my first of so many encounters with people, where all the normal awkwardness of breaking the silence between strangers was absent. This movement can remove the barriers of alienation. In standing together, we already know each other. We know we share this truth, we want real change. In the crowd, I saw so many photographers and videographers. I was interviewed by a lot of students who were planning to use this experience in their coursework. That was the beginning of my realization that, if you attend, you become a spokesperson. Your voice becomes aplified. To exactly whom, and how, one may never know, but the discourse will happen. People want to know, "why are YOU here?" and in sharing personal reasons, we all find the universal cause.

I went alone, but found familiars everywhere. A woman I knew from an old job, a friend of friends from Chicago, etc. It was easy to speak to people, and I found random things in common with so many around me. During the march, I walked near the tail end with a marching band and members of the Musicians Union. The drums made it more fun! Someone ahead of me had a flag with a satellite picture of the earth. Everyone was smiling. I caught some police officers looking pleased. Later I would have conversations with plenty of officers around Liberty Plaza, who tried to maintain the professional attitude of "no comment," but were easily readable as supportive. One even told me, and I'm not quoting word-for-word as I just remember the gist, "Listen. Work is hard to find out there. This is my job, I have to pay my bills. You have a job to do, too. Keep it up, ok?" This was not my only conversation along these lines. (check this out! Occupy Police)


Later, as the crowd from the march reached the main Occupation, relations with police did become intense. I squirreled my way into the park, but it wasn't easy to do. It was very confusing trying to obey police who told everyone to "keep moving" when there was no direction in which to move. Thousands of people had marched and were intending to continue until Wall Street and just BE there for awhile, but Wall Street was barricaded, off-limits, and so all these bodies had no place to move into. A lot of people lined the sidewalks all around Liberty Plaza, and the chaos was too much for the authorities, who were trying to maintain the normal flow of vehicular traffic. There was a sense of being penned in, to whichever space a person had found themselves in.

Certain agent provocateurs in the crowd wanted us all to rush the streets. The momentum was there, the chant of "Whose Streets?! OUR STREETS!" erupted many many times. I think, though, everyone knew that a move like that would result in violent chaos. I was very close to the incident where people were bludgeoned by police, but I couldn't see it happen. I just saw police and civilians moving about frantically, and then an activist being dragged past the crowd with his hands in cuffs. Soon after, one person started knocking down the metal barricades and inciting people to take the street. Chants of "PEACEFUL PROTEST!" spread, and everyone on that front line to the street took a slow step back. I think this is a collective feeling of the movement, not wanting to be aggressive or violent, not to initiate any law-breaking or incite authoritarian backlash. This way, when the police act irresponsibly, violently, especially disproportionate to what they are up against, it only reflects on them.


That first night for me at the Occupation ended early because of other comittments, so I didn't get to see how it all played out in the end. It seemed that police and occupiers were at a stand-still, an agree-to-disagree moment, and just trying to figure out the flow of traffic from that moment on. I took a quick walk through Liberty Plaza and knew I would need to come back the next day to get the full flavor of what was/is brewing there.

What is brewing there is what, I believe, most of us have been dreaming about, maybe for our whole lives. A community in which everyone is taken care of, and where everyone has a voice. Food and medicine, warm clothes, blankets, and places to sleep are all available, to everyone. There is music and dancing, workshops, prayer and meditation. Information freely available, at info booths and in the Library. People taking initiative to maintain working order, to pitch in wherever one might be useful. People helping and being helped by fellow people. Honestly, seriously, the revolution is beautiful. The revolution is for you.