Tag Archives: Occupy

Oh, Just Another Day in Our Nations Capital …

Having a brunch date with some friends down in DC on Sunday, I decided to utilize the day and check out the Occupy scene in McPherson Square that afternoon.  My walk from brunch at Founding Farmers happen to go by the White House.  Walking up, the crowds in front of the Presidents domain were normal, but the signs and orange vests were not.  My friends and I were stumbling upon a rally protesting the Alaskan Oil Pipeline.  Saying goodbye to my friends, I decide to delay my visit to the Occupy village and watch the action around me.

The rally ends and the crowd surrounding the stage in Lafayette Square makes there way to the street in front of the White House.  They form a huge line, everyone holding various signs.  There’s activity all around.  It feels good just to be here…watching.  I’m in full on observer mode with camera in hand joining the amateur paparazzi about.  Everyone is snapping photos all around.  For once I feel no shame for following a crowd.









It’s time to make my way to the Occupy scene.  I first notice the McPherson Square statue has been written on with chalk messages all over it.   I feel a bit shocked as I remember almost being arrested in highschool for “defacing federal property” as the officer had put it.  I had written the name of my school on Jefferson’s Rock at Harpers Ferry during a field trip there.  At the time, had no idea I was committing a “federal offense.”  I wonder if they know this.


As I get closer, I notice 3 of the occupiers are cleaning off the chalk messages and a group of other occupiers (assuming the ones who “defaced” it) were not happy.  They begin to argue as the “cleaners” lecture them on respecting the property and grounds around them.  I can’t help but find this little battle I’m witnessing humorous. As I walk by, one of the “defacers” writes the ‘F’ word on a freshly cleaned spot on the statue. I pay respects to the comical nature that comes with being human as I hear someone mutter “you’re fighting the wrong battles, man.”  I continue walking…








and observing until I come upon a tent looking quite different from the rest, kinda homey.  “Welcome to the Library”  a young guy says with a kind smile.  Just perfect, I think, walking inside.  Somehow, I feel at home slightly reminiscing on my latest travels.  I’m happy to find a tent full of FREE books for all, completely organized by subject on handwritten signs, just like a used book store.  I’m in love.  I want to know this mans story.    Why a Library?  How’d it come to be?  For some reason though, I’m in no mood to talk.  Just quietly observe.   So, I make a promise to myself that I’ll be back and I continue on my way after browsing through the books,   of course.


“Mic check!” a guy yells and a small crowd forms around him ready to repeat anything he says.  Curious of what’s to come, I join the group forming. The guy begins to yell while the crowd repeats him word for word, “There are thousands of people down the street. For some reason they have this weird concept that if they stand along a sidewalk with signs, they are making a difference.  Lets go get them and show them what will make a difference.  Lets take our protest to the streets.  The police can’t arrest thousands of people.”


A little annoyed about his judgment rather than solidarity with the other protest, I decide to hang back.  The group grabs a huge banner and others run over to join.  They begin to walk and someone starts to drum.  I find myself following.  As we reach the first cross walk waiting for the light to turn for our right of way, a strange noise begins to ripple out from the tunnel of tall buildings lining the street.  It’s faint, but getting louder with every moment that passes.  It’s a rolling, roaring sound that is building in momentum.  We’re all beginning to look around and at each other wondering where it’s coming from.  Suddenly, it hits me and I run back across the square while others begin toward the same direction.  Standing on the corner of  15th and I, all you can hear is the immense crowd heading toward us.  Their footsteps echoing off the buildings causing a slight rumble.  Their unified shouts we can now understand, ” WE ARE THE 99% ! ”  The Pipeline Protestors have in fact, taken the streets…and so it begins.

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Posted by on November 11, 2011 in Gypsy Adventures


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The Freedom To Be – It’s All in A Look

It was the look on his face when I told him it was free…

” No really, kid, you can have this. Enjoy, and remember to share it with someone special.” I said with a wink and a smile waving goodbye while trying to hide the fact that this 16 year old kid had just changed my life forever with one simple look.

The Fairytale Blend

He came aboard The Free Tea Bus at Last Thursday in Portland.  He was reluctant, yet curious.  “Is this really for free?” He asked before coming aboard with 2 friends in tow.  “Yep! We’ve got homemade cupcakes and cinnamon rolls too.”  I say playing the tea hostess.  They came in and sat down taking the warm cups of The Fairytale Blend I had ready to go.  Asking for their story, the young man goes on to tell me that him and one of his friends with him had just graduated a drug rehab center nearby. ” Congratulations! ” I shouted trying to take in the information. Feeling stunned. I would’ve never thought…  Here were these teenagers, that given their appearance, I would’ve pinned them for being a part of a youth group of some sort.  Maybe this is true also, but the reality was that this young man had already been through a certain amount of experience, and by age 16.  My heart went out.

I didn’t ask about their stories with the drugs or which drugs.  What kind, didn’t matter and something told me to lay off the subject and just enjoy whatever they wanted to share.  So I did. To be honest, I don’t remember much about it.  I don’t even remember their names.  However, does that matter when his face is emblazoned in my memory?  Though his name forgotten, his face remains famous in my inner world.

In our last exchange before they left the bus, is when it happened.  “Do you mind if I could have a little bit of this tea to take with me?”  He asked. “You know what?  I’ll do you one better.  Let me make you up a few bags of this to have more than just one cup for later.  One condition though, you have to share.”  Is all I remember saying before I saw his eyes light up before me, triggering the rest of his face to light up in a way that reached deep into my Soul and said, “Ally, this is why you are alive. This look right here, is all that matters…just remember.”

Last Thursday in Portland, Oregon

As I made up the bags, I was taken back to countless memories flowing through me of that same look in the eyes of others I had come to pass throughout my life, including myself.  What did these looks all have in common?  They were the look of pure, innocent happiness.  Why?  They came from experiences when a person felt the freedom and joy to be who they are without having to earn it.  It usually came in times of receiving an unexpected gift or favor.  Those experiences of spontaneous generosity that leave the person on the receiving end feeling an ease about themselves. It’s an ease I can only describe like this – when a person feels the deep satisfaction to be who they are and that is ‘good enough.’  I am… simply enough, to receive whatever it is that is being given in this moment.  I don’t have to work for it.  I don’t have to do something first to earn it. I don’t need to “DO” anything.  I am just me and look at what Life is giving me for just showing up:)

Already feeling highly inspired from Rootstalk, this solidified that inspiration into something more concrete.  I had just spent a week serving free tea and seeing countless looks like his, but for some reason it took his to make me understand why the idea of giving something for free had me feeling so good.  So what did I do with all this inspiration?  I sat with it… for a bit.  I needed to reflect on it all – What Can I Do? or is it really all about just “being me,” or maybe there is a balance?  So I headed north to a little island known as San Juan.  A place and a home that became the stage for one of my most memorable transformations of my life thus far.  Here, I knew I could get some good R&R from the hustle and bustle of festival living, traveling and cities. Which I had spent the past 2 1/2  weeks in having made a stop in Seattle to visit my community of friends there.

While on the island, the idea of “Free” kept coming to mind.  What does it mean to freely give…of anything? My last few days on the island is when it all became clear.  The question of ” What Can I Do?” began being answered…and I’m not sure where it will go or what it all means. All I know right now is, it is the beginning of something.  Something inside of me that I can’t deny sharing with the world.  Whatever it is.  Whatever it becomes.  Whatever I choose to do with it, or not do – I am, simply being me.

Here’s to be Being Who We Are -Freely!


Posted by on November 5, 2011 in Gypsy Adventures


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