The march has collapsed. Turtle has been in Versailles, Kentucky, with Stacie, one of our supporters. He’s recovering from a sickness. He’s considering staying at Occupy Lexington rather than continuing on to Chicago with Walkupy May Day. Darrin says he can’t bear to march with Bo for six more weeks. He says Bo was disrespectful to members of Occupy Louisville and that he’s been absolutely vicious toward Peter.
“He thinks that Occupy is over, that Walkupy is the second coming and that only the strong are still marching,” Darrin wrote in an email.
Bo needs to believe that what he’s doing is the most important thing in the universe. He needs to believe that he is the strongest person in the universe.
How can he not see that he’s driving everyone away?
Darrin basically said that if Garth and I come back, he’ll refuse to march with Bo and continue on with us. If we don’t come back, he might go home.
“I guess if they’re gonna do that once and for all, I’ll go back,” Garth says.
Bo has been an issue for a long time. This isn’t the first time the group has discussed ditching him. We’ve never had the heart. We thought he might relapse. On the other hand, he may just continue marching by himself. He believes he is the next Gandhi.
Bo wants to be a good person. He really believes in Occupy. He’s giving all his energy to it. He just doesn’t see the effect he has on those around him.
I really don’t want to march right now. I don’t want to do outreach. I don’t feel inspired enough to tell people what Occupy is all about and argue on its behalf several times a day. I don’t really know what it’s about right now. It could be a revolution. It could be reform. It could be absolutely nothing.
I need a new project to jolt me back into action. Something that makes me feel like the movement is actually moving. Not just moving, but plowing thru the towering wall of rubbish that attempts to distract us from the deception that rules our lives.
I don’t want to be put on the spot right now. In a group that small, you’re always on the spot.
In his letter to Garth, Darrin said, “I don’t have the grace to disarm situations the way you do. And I also don’t have an awesome sidekick.”
It used to bother me tremendously that everyone loved Garth, that they saw me as a cancerous tumor which, if removed, would cause him to bleed to death. At least in this case I’m an Awesome Sidekick. But I’d still like to be valued as myself rather than Garth’s other half.
I need to find something I can do as myself.
Garth and I sit downstairs. Both of our computer screens show the homepage for The Global Square.
“Let’s go to Berlin,” Garth says.
That’s where the main planning conference will happen at the end of April.
“You know, I was thinking about that too,” I say. “I have a good feeling about it.”
“Me too,” he says.
“I don’t have a feeling about anything else.”
Next minute, we’re backing Mom’s Jeep out of the garage. We’ll cash the $1500 in money orders that I’ve been carrying around. We’ve been saving it to get ourselves out of the country. We’ll deposit it in Garth’s bank account and buy tickets. It’ll be just enough if we reserve two weeks in advance.
“We made a decision,” I say, aiming us down State Street.
“I like how we make our decisions,” Garth says.
This is how it always happens. We float aimlessly in limbo for a few days. Noting happens. Then, all of a sudden, we find out about something. It flashes like a comet in the night sky. It lights everything up for a moment and the whole universe looks clear and obvious. We say we’ve got a good feeling about it. So we do it.
While we’re out, I pick up the last 6 months worth of my birth control pills and some celebratory Reese’s Pieces.
The Global Square could be big. It could be the platform for a worldwide online horizontal democracy. That’s something Garth and I were talking about years ago while we were trimming weed in Humboldt County, living in a hut made of chicken wire and Redwood limbs in a canyon on someone else’s property.
The Global Square could phase out governments like DVD’s phased out VHS. Most importantly, it’s not about America, it’s about humankind.
It’s a vision we both share.
Garth has the skills to assist with the building of the infrastructure. I have the jolt to write about it. As long as I can write about something, I feel I’m in the right place, doing something worthwhile, being of use to those involved and those who are reading.
It’s perfect for both of us.
I make tacos for dinner and think about Berlin. I don’t even know what it looks like. I can’t picture any word famous land marks. A hard rain falls on the brown Idaho hills and my mind puts the drops in little cobblestone alleyways between buildings that are many centuries old. I mince Serrano and rub my eye and imagine a more soulful place, where people value the planet and art and conversations. I chop tomatoes and burn my hand on the plastic spoon I left leaning against the edge of the frying pan. The ground beef simmers and I think about the absence of suburban sprawl.
I think about Berlin. It feels like moving forward. It feels lush, not stale like the United States. It feels right.
Garth leans against me and I lean against the arm of the couch. We both look at the dots circling around on the computer screen. They finally stop.
“Flight: Berlin Tue, April 3, 2012,” it says.
I put my finger on the word Berlin and look at Garth.
“You know, I might actually fit in in Germany,” I say.
“Yeah, until you open your mouth.”
“Hi. I’m from America, where kids don’t learn foreign languages.”
We’ll learn a few words before we go.
We’re going. We’re going to Berlin. We’re not doing this for America. We’re doing this for everyone.
Check out the project: www.theglobalsquare.org