23 October, 2007 – Ashland, Oregon
I have my freedom…
The bus took us to Medford, near Ashland. It was an hour late getting to the station, of course. And it was jam-packed. And there was a very loud and talkative man right behind me. And there were more loud and talkative men further back, yakking on their cell phones. And the seats were incredibly small and tight and after a couple of hours my body ached like an oil spill. And there was a cold breeze blowing up beside the window. And I was exhausted, and felt sick to my stomach. The bus shifted and bounced like a ship on the high seas.
But otherwise, it was a great trip…
We got into Medford around 7… ish… and were met there by Tej Steiner, a warm and generous man who gave us a ride to Ashland, and to the home of Bill Kauth and Zoe Alowan, our next host/organizers. Along the way Tej told us of his work with groups, giving us some ideas that might apply to our post-screening dialogues, and gifting us with a copy of his book, which I look forward to reading.
We walked into a lively discussion. Richard Moore was there to talk of his new book Escaping the Matrix, with a dozen or so of Bill and Zoe’s friends. After hours on the bus, it was a welcome relief, to be amongst so many informed and thoughtful souls. I had a wonderful conversation with John Michael Greer about ritual and response in this time of contraction and great change, and made good connections with many others there, even if brief. Late into the evening, when people had gone, we climbed into bed and fell into sleep.
The next morning brought us a great breakfast of pancakes and sausage, which came just as the phone rang. Sally had agreed to a phone interview with Janaia Donaldson from Peak Moment Television and Nory Fussell and some folks at radio station KVMR in Nevada City, so we sat on the deck and spoke on the phone and ate pancakes and smoothies, delivered by Bill and Zoe, as the sun peeked around the corner of the house and warmed us.
Afterwards we made a plan and went our separate ways, Bill and Zoe to do some work on their newest project, Oneness Communitas, and Sally and I to take a nice walk into downtown Ashland, to find some coffee and hit the bank and the post office. We returned at 1:30 for another radio interview, then wrote and rested and napped in our room, recharging our batteries before the screening.
By five we were at the Unitarian center, to help set up the space and get ready for the screening. There we met Ken, who handled the picture and sound with great skill. With chairs and screen set up, Sally and I walked to a nearby restaurant, where we met Kelpie Wilson (environmental editor for truthout.org and author of Primal Tears) for dinner, joined a bit later by Bill and Zoe and Ken. It was so great to sit with these smart, aware, engaged people, to hear their stories and share some tales from our journey. The time of the screening approached, so we made our way back to the church, where people were already arriving.
We’d put out forty chairs. We ended up having about 100 people in the audience. So somewhere in there more chairs were grabbed, and pews were pushed back, and some people sat on tables and pews and floors. The space was full of energy and anticipation. Bill gave us a kick-ass intro and Sally and I intro’d the film and Ken hit play and it was begun. At one point during the show, I was able to meet up briefly with a visiting Michael Ruppert, and look him in the eye, and thank him for his work, and for being one of the souls who had helped keep us sane during our journey. That felt good.
More than forty stayed for the dialogue. That was after the long and standing applause, an outpouring of thanks to the universe, and to Sally and I and the many who helped us, for lifting the veil as far as we have. That was after the quick connections and goodbyes, after chairs were circled and DVDs sold and projector dismantled and hugs exchanged. The Ashland circle opened its heart and gave us the gift of their lives, telling their stories in concise and crystallized ways so that there would be time for all to share, gifting the circle with their anger, their grief, their hopelessness and their joy. There was much joy in that circle: joy that we get to be awake and alive, that we get to tell the truth, that we get to come together in sacred space and be who we are, even in the face of such huge and overwhelming change.
That’s the real freedom. That’s the freedom I want and need and crave and demand: that I get to be awake and sane and whole, that I get to feel what I feel and think what I think, even in the darkest of times, even in a world of powers and forces that would deprive me of that freedom. Most of what gets sold as freedom in this culture is merely a cheap substitute for that, what Derrick Jensen might call a toxic mimic. As if four blades on my razor will somehow make up for having my freedom to feel my own feelings undermined and thwarted at every turn by the culture in which I was raised. That is the best reason I know to look squarely at the collapse of civilization: when you go into and through the fear, the anger, the despair, you have the opportunity to come out on the other side and step into a freedom unlike any you’ve ever known before.
That’s what wrote and produced What a Way to Go. That’s what is now traveling around the country doing screenings. That’s what’s standing up in front of groups of people and speaking with clarity and intent. That’s what’s doing interviews on the radio. That’s what’s meeting people face to face. It ain’t me. Or it ain’t ALL me, that’s for sure. It’s that powerful freedom that comes when you walk through the fire, and align with the forces of the universe, and put yourself into service to something way grander than your own ego. That freedom is worth every step it takes to reach it.
The circle came to an end. It was time to go. We stood up cleaned up packed up and headed out, saying goodbyes to those who lingered and making openings for further connections. Back at Bill and Zoe’s we had tea and yogurt and beer and cookies and spoke of the night, reveling in the energy of the evening. At last we said goodnight.
In the morning, after eggs and toast and coffee and more stories of our lives, we turned our attention to the next leg of our journey. Plans had changed and we found a bus that would take us more directly to our next stop. We packed and said goodbye, and then Anna, an old friend from North Carolina, arrived to drive us back to the Medford station. Another bus. Another step along the way. With another screening the next evening. Grass Valley, California, here we come.
Our thanks to Bill and Zoe and Ken and Tej, to Kelpie and John Michael and Richard and Michael, and to the good folk of Ashland, who came to spend a few hours of their lives with us. We wish you all well.
I leave you with a link to my favorite poem, which bubbles up to consciousness as I write of freedom. I hope it moves you as much as it does me…William Stafford’s “A Message From the Wanderer”.
Peace,
Tim
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