Language of Silence

1779233_10152328726830974_8769817661986376821_n.jpgSavitri and I woke up this morning knowing that today was supposed to be our day of direct action. After last night's performance with 23 wonderful acitvists-who-sing in the Stop Shopping Choir, we were just a few miles from a Monsanto office building in Cambridge Massachusetts, with all these courageous friends - what's the problem? The problem was that we were exhausted completely. We had no idea of what to do. We felt like Wily Coyote off the edge of the cliff. We realized that we were already falling.

Since about August 1st, we have not stopped. Jails and jets and stages and long drives and jails and stages. In Europe for the Edinburgh festival and Belfast, then California and Burning Man, then New Mexico, then a tour of the farmer's markets of New York, then the People's Climate March weekend, then jail for defending a beloved tree, then four new songs, the Ferguson and jail and The Hug, and now Boston and we are falling off the edge. We love our life but -- too much!

So the choir took over, circled up and ordered me out of my polyesters and collar. We listened to their decision-making, which came to down to stillness. We would not be our usual aggro selves at Monsanto. We would be meditative. Start over in our opposition to the invisible toxins of this monstrous company. We drove to the place and stood there in front of it and didn't move. Savitri handled the official reaction, but no one could move us. A doorway to a new kind of dramatic action opened for us. A language of silence. People around us gradually lost it. We kept thinking about what this company does. We visualized years of revolt against it. We saw an America returned to its original Earth.