A glimpse of a movement

I had a great opportunity to sneak down to New York this week with a neighbor who lives down the road.  Two days without kids, in the company of smart, successful women, art, and culture.  It was really nice.  One of my trip highlights was heading down to Zuccotti park to check out the Occupy Wall Street protest.  Having been there for only a few hours, I am certainly not an expert on the workings of this incredible little community, but the following are my observations.

Heading down to the park from the Fulton St subway station takes you past glimpses of the freedom tower-- nearing completion now-- it is half encased in sparkling glass panes, half still scaffolding- but every bit of it is grand and heavy with meaning.  I knew I would be passing it, but still found myself grappling with it's presence.  Last time I was here, there was a massive hole in the ground where the tower now stands, It was strange to be so close to this monstrous monument and so distracted by the gathering ahead.

You know you are nearing the OWS site by the noticeable increase in police presence on the street.  They seem to be everywhere as you get within site of the park, and ahead of the fence surrounding OWS, there was a line of no less than 25 police vehicles- backed in so they were facing the protesters.  It was intimidating-- creepy even.

The row of flags pictured above marked the break between metal barricades and police vehicles and the park itself, and once you made it into the wall of the park, the police presence faded.  In it's place, a small community unfolds before your eyes.  I had heard it was very clean and orderly, but seeing it in person was still incredibly impressive.  I hadn't realized how small the park was, but even in this confined space, there were ample paths winding through, and a very intentional layout.  The kitchen was set up in the center of the park, complete with a long buffet table as well as an area for prep and clean up.  To the west of the kitchen there was a group of people working on a grey water filtration system, which included multiple beds/bays that utilized plant life, rocks, soil and sand to filter bacteria out of the water with the goal of reusable water as an output.  I'm not clear on exactly how long the process takes, but it was really cool to see such a project being taken on.

Continuing on, at the west end of the park, there was a designated sacred space set up around a park tree.  People were gathered in a circle, each taking some time to sit quietly, to think, pray or meditate.  This area was the only part of the park bathed in direct sunlight, which found a way through the towering concrete.  It seemed almost excessive to have the light illuminating this impromptu shrine, and it made me smile.

I headed back toward the east end of the park past sleeping areas, and a line of food trucks parked along the road for anyone who might have a few dollars to buy a snack in place of the kitchen fare.  There is a man laying in his sleeping bag with a sign explaining that he is on a hunger strike.  He looks tired, pale, and I am anxious for him.

I am struck, throughout the park, at the cooperation and shared resources.  They keep a weekly schedule of planned events, educational opportunities, forums and such posted on a large chalkboard near the central kitchen.  They have a 'people's library' where books, newspapers, and magazines are loaned and returned.  All stored in plastic bins which clearly function as waterproof containers on rainy days.  In one area, a man is 'tagging' shirts for people that read 'Happy Occu-party', 'Eat the Rich', and 'I am the 99%'.  A bulletin board is kept with the day's press about the OWS protest, allowing people to keep up with what is being published about the cause.  Conversations about change spring up like popcorn across the gathering.  At one point, I passed as a man who claimed to be "part of the 1%" as he approached a few of the protesters and started a conversation.  They didn't seem to be reaching any deep understanding of each other as I listened in, but just the fact that those kinds of conversations are happening is a small win in my opinion- an improvement from how things have been up until this point. A breaking down of walls.

Occupiers spend the day knitting, reading, napping, and talking-- there is a LOT of talking.  On the east end of the park (which seems to have the most onlookers) there is a speaker talking about how the stock market operates.  She describes what derivatives are, talks about hedge funds, the mortgage crisis, deregulation (perhaps not in that order), she speaks for well over an hour, and all the while, it is with the eery call and response method that has become standard at the OWS site.  She speaks in short phrases and then the crowd around her repeats the phrase, thus allowing people further away to hear what is being said.  This is the strategy that has been employed because, apparently, it is illegal to use a bullhorn in the park.  It gives a strange droning rhythm to everything else that is going on-- always, in the background, a steady call and response.

And, as if inspired by the steady beat of the speaker and crowd, a jazz band has begun to play.  Trombone and Trumpet twisting out brassy melodies, sexy upright bass keeping beat, a drum, a clarinet... the crowd is full of smiles, the music is rich and lovely.  Hope floats by, and everyone present seems to know it's there.