Consciousness is causal: the evolution of an activist
12/07/2009

On December 1, I began 27 Days of Transformative Change—an agreement undertaken with other community activists to change the world by changing ourselves.  The program was created, structured and is facilitated by the Berkeley-based Center for Transformative Change (www.transformativechange.org).  

 Our first step was to personalize a 6-point change agreement involving daily practice in selfless service, reducing harm, developing equanimity, staying present, increasing our ability to meditate (dynamic stillness), and dissolving the distinctions between “who practices, who practice is done for, and what practice is done” (in other words, practicing for its own sake). These culminate in a personal statement of intention.  Mine is to bring my life into greater alignment with my values by, among other things, giving time daily to opposing the war in Afghanistan and the misuse of American resources in support of war. 

I had determined that one of the ways I would “live my values” would be to stand in silent protest on Friday at noon in downtown Santa Barbara.  There has been a group of men and women in black who, in the past, have stood on the corner of State and Anapamu streets in silent protest of America’s war machine; but I couldn’t find anyone who could tell me whether or not they were still observing that practice.  I’d asked my own friends and family members to join me, but none had responded to my emailed request.  I faced the prospect that I might protest alone.

Friday morning I was so nervous that my meditation was a mess and I actually felt like vomiting.  I didn’t calm down until I started painting my sign, which read “The war in Afghanistan is wrong: morally, financially, strategically.”  That felt satisfying, so I made two more.  One said, “We’re creating the enemy we’re hoping to quell.”  The other: “$30 billion could BUILD a nation—theirs or ours.”  I felt much better.

How curious.  Painting my signs made me less fearful.  Maybe my fear wasn’t about making a public statement; maybe it was fear that I wouldn’t speak my truth; that I’d wimp out.

I loaded my signs in the car (in case my sister, or anyone, joined me), drove downtown and parked, and took my position on the corner of State and Anapamu.  It was a lovely, gratifying, empowering hour.  I wasn’t speaking, so I didn’t have to worry about engaging anyone in debate.  Still, all but one person who acknowledged my presence said something supportive.  Most thanked me.  One person took my hand and offered to pray for me.  I agreed, so he asked God to bless me “and all people who stand up for others.”  (Thanks, Universe!  I push past my fears and get positive reinforcement.)  My sister Jackie joined me.  Others gave us the peace sign or a thumbs-up, honked and waved, or just said, “I agree 100 percent.”  One woman said that her 18-year-old brother was being sent to Afghanistan in June and started to cry.  Since I wasn’t speaking, all I could do was hug her.  She hung on tight.  By the end of the hour, we’d passed out eight of the ten copies of Matthew Hoh’s resignation letter, which I’d made for people who wanted more information, and another woman had promised to join us next Friday.

How much good did my one-hour of silent protest do?  I know it probably reached more people than my website!  But more important, it worked my “alignment muscle.”  It taught me that living in sync with my values feels better than the way I normally live my life.  An added bonus:  I wasn’t hungry all morning, through lunch, or even into the afternoon.  Hmmm…How much of my eating is to distract myself?  To avoid staying present to the pain this life entails—if not for me, then for my brothers and sisters everywhere?  And finally, I must remember that my wisdom practice is for its own sake.  I am to speak my truth, make my effort, without concern for results.

And so it is.