Peaceful Demonstration

I woke up early yesterday morning, and the first thoughts in my mind were about the rally happening at the state capitol in Lansing that afternoon. I hadn’t firmed up my decision to go in the days before, and now that it was the day of, I had a strong desire to get up and join with some like-minded folks in demanding to be seen and heard. I got out of bed, shot off a quick email to the only friend I knew was going, and dressed, just in case she called. I left it to fate whether she got the message or not. This was a very last-minute request.

While I waited, I got online and tried to glean as much information about the rally as I could, did more research on the issue that was stirring me up to be sure I had my facts straight. (Unfortunately, I didn’t find any silver lining to the emergency manager bill.) My desire to go was building. I knew if the phone didn’t ring by nine, it was probably not going to ring. I felt disappointed in myself for not pursuing this sooner.

I thought of my friend Amy Jo and her son Liam. They might be willing to jump in the car last-minute with me. I sent her a text, and she responded that her husband was coming home later in the day. So that was a no-go. One person in one car equaled more harm than good, so I decided going to Lansing was out. But what could I do with this energy?

I started an online class last week, so I decided to study. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Amy Jo. She invited me over to an early dinner she was cooking for her family and the Cools. I was feeling heavy from experiencing the desire to get out and defend my civil liberties to the disappointment of no action. So in my fog I told her I’d think about it. It didn’t take long to put two and two together and realize I needed to get out of the house and be around some good friends and good food. I called her back and accepted the invitation.

The heaviness was sticking around. Perhaps it was from Synder opening the door to corporate takeover of our state, perhaps the devastation in Japan. Probably all of that and more. What was certain was that this time out at the farm was going to be like a ray of sunshine to my soul.

And it was. The sun was shining; it was warm. Douglas was home and had with him some woodworking tools he was excited about. We had a short chat, skipping the how’s-the-weather and going straight to talking about god, life, quantum physics, and what’s-the-point-of-all-this. Then it was to the kitchen to watch Amy Jo pull out a 23-pound succulent turkey from the oven, a beautiful bird that Amy Jo and Jess raised on their farm, that Amy Jo butchered herself. Karen brought out her homemade blackberry pie with lattice top. We sipped on homemade hard apple cider and pondered Brian’s question about the meaning of the word “love,” while Jess put on green beans left over from last year’s crop and Amy Jo made the gravy from the drippings and shitake mushrooms.

We decided to eat out in the sun. We piled in around the picnic table Douglas built for Amy Jo, taking in the warmth as our feet slid on snow and ice still frozen under the table. The food was to die for. Amy Jo commented this was the closest she’d ever come to making her stuffing taste like her mom’s, and it was indeed delectable. The dogs watched us longingly as we ate and proved to be good entertainment; Jess’s old dog Daisy did her best to levitate and float Layla’s leftover turkey to her mouth with a Jedi stare. We watched the hens and roosters come merrily filing down from their coop to enjoy the mud and grass. Amy Jo and Douglas’ pup Maggie exercised her pointing abilities and enjoyed going round and round a lilac bush with a little bantam rooster. It was an easy afternoon. As the sun got lower in the sky, we took a long walk through the mud and snow.

Then it was time to get in the car and head back home. Indeed, the heaviness of the morning had subsided, and I felt content with not having gone to Lansing. Reflecting on it this morning, I would say exercising my right to protest at the capitol or spending the day in the sun with friends on a farm eating simple, local, wholesome food, both are acts that create hope for the future. We need to defend our freedom from the oligarchy, while exercising the change we are demanding. My heart is filled with gratitude for the warriors who descended on the capital and grateful for the warm hospitality of friends.