A lot has happened in a couple days. We are just now coming to grips with everything we lost when the camper was totaled. It is useless to give a complete listing. We had worked so hard — agonized over so many things. There were so many decisions to make about what we could do — what we had money for, what we could dumpster, what we were capable of doing, what something we could make out of ‘nothing’. We found that we were capable of much more than we thought. We found that we could actually set ourselves up as the first Mobile Food Not Bombs chapter (or, as a Wandering Peoples Kitchen, as I prefer to call it). We found that we could set ourselves up as a mobile Occupy Information Table. We found that we could set ourselves up as a wandering LiveStreaming team. We found that we could set ourselves up as a Wandering Street Medic team, and more. We found that nothing was beyond our capabilities. Then tragedy struck and took some of it all away.


Without the camper there is no room for anything extraneous . . . so it was time to say good-bye to my old red sneakers, and say hello to my new gray sneakers that I was saving for the day the others fell apart.

No more money to start over. No more known surroundings where we could find help. No more of a lot of our equipment, belongings and tools. No more comfort.

Here we are two days later sleeping in tents on a hillside at Occupy WDC, a fledgling Occu-Farm on the outskirts of Washington D.C.. We are made welcome by Mike — the Occupier with the dream of creating this sustainable farm. The weight of being hard-grounders on the move is settling down upon our shoulders, and our backs are bending under the strain. “Once again unto the breach, my friends, once more.


Making camp before the storm hits.

This revolution’s last battle must be at Wall Street, symbolically or for real — but it must begin out here where the 99% live. It must work in the abandoned neighborhoods of Detroit as much as it works in the permaculture farms in the countryside. As for D.C. . . . why bother with the political puppets when it is the corporate puppet-masters who pull the strings? Nevertheless, we are here in D.C. for what is advertised as the largest civil disobedience action on the climate issue in history. But for all the hype we must realize that it is a project of mostly rich conservationists — not the rank and file of the 99%, not the radical ecological activists, not the dedicated earth rights people, and not the Wild Womyn.


I know where the Wild Womyn are!

The people running this show are used to drinking martinis with the movers and shakers of Society. The people running this show are used to planned, comfortable and safe lives wherein every whim is catered to. The people running this show haven’t been beaten down by the police simply because they are who they are. The people running this show have not slept on the streets catching every disdainful and disgusted look from passers-by. The people running this show don’t even want poor people to show up — proper attire, please, and mind your manners. That is not revolution — that is petty, useless, hypocritical reform.


Our Guy Fawkes mask marks our occupied space and awaits the coming storm.

A new Clean Water/Air/Land Act won’t save us, yo. Stopping the Tar Sands and the KXL Pipeline won’t save us. Stopping any one thing won’t save us now — everything must change. We are at the brink of global ecological disaster. A sea-change in attitude is necessary — and these guys (yes, guys . . . where all the Wild Womyn at?) haven’t changed their attitudes. They think their privilege means they deserve to keep their planned, safe and comfortable lives. They are more concerned about their spacious homes, vacation parks and bank balances than about everyone’s welfare. Until we can talk about the welfare of the planet and the people without thinking in terms of laws, entitlements and monetary outlays we have gone nowhere in attitude. The welfare of the planet and the people has nothing to do with money. This was never about money. This is about the Earth, yo.


We arrived unannounced at Occupy WDC but they still welcomed us, and fed us.

Losing all our stuff presents a hardship for us, no doubt. But we have learned that lesson over and over and over — thank you, NYPD. We are able to laugh about the loss and continue on. Sure, we missed a step — missed the One Billion Rising event — but we’re here. Here we are at Occupy WDC preparing for the big action on Sunday. Stuff is just stuff — some of the Ten Thousand Things that distract us from what is real and vital. What we did not lose, and can never lose, is our ability to adapt: our skills, our knowledge, our determination, our will, our love, our reason for living.


Nothing will deter us. We will do whatever is necessary.

We are here. Wherever we are, whatever we have, whatever we do; it all comes down to us — our will to use our knowledge and skills in our determination to live fully in love. The revolution lives within each of us, it is not our stuff — it is us. It doesn’t matter who the “us” is — we can be different people, different activists, different Occupiers but we will still, always, move forward against the cruelties, injustices and insanities of the 1%. We are Occupiers, yo.


Mike of Occupy WDC welcomes us with a big smile. This is what it is all about, yo!


The neighbor’s Rottweiler standing guard before you get to Occupy WDC.


Occupy WDC!


A closer look at Occupy WDC.


Home! Even though we’ve never been here before!


The Occupy Bus Tour has arrived!