Forest Recovery in the Wake of Standing Rock -- Scattered Thoughts Abound

So for the past 5 days, I've been hiding out at the residence of a couple very good old friends who have been letting me couch-crash in their warm cabin in the northern mountains, catching up on rest and chasing away the cough that got into my system during my stay at the Standing Rock encampment. It's been a restful, relaxing change of pace after my intense experiences at Standing Rock, which in truth are not over yet.

While here, I began to make halting attempts to write the story, but as I got down the first few paragraphs of a chronological narrative, my writing felt uninspired, dull, unoriginal; any words I attempt to use seem unfit to describe the incredible things I witnessed and had the privilege to participate in.

So on this, my last morning of this visit to the forest haven, I'm starting over with a slightly different approach, a way perhaps more typical of a freeform blogging media: Rather than spending days or weeks writing, editing, and polishing a more exhaustive, detailed, chronological book-length narrative, which tends to overwhelm my mind with its staggering scope, instead I'm now just typing out whatever happens to pop into my head over the next hour or two, wrap it up when I get tired of writing, do a quick proof read for grammar, spelling, maybe minor edits, then hit the "publish" button on whatever happens to have come out. Improvisational, quick, off the cuff, spontaneously instant, the way internet communication was made to be!

Knowing that this is my writing timeframe for this particular piece, my brain now scrambles to come up with just one or two of the most important, most memorable, and most describable aspects of the memories from the past month at Standing Rock.

Well, in terms of visceral impact, the day the northern camp was invaded by militarized police, over 140 of us were arrested (myself included), many pepper sprayed and otherwise brutalized, as we did everything in our power to defend the land and the water (albeit always adhering to the creed of non-violence, at least in the direct action groups I chose to participate in).

Then there are those moments when sheer outrage at the realization that the face of American fascism has arrived, right in front of us, and there is no way to deny it. This was our home that was under attack (even if it was just a short term encampment), these were our loved ones that were being abused and taken captive by rows and rows of armored law enforcement thugs, advancing in a line against us. Even if I could have gotten away while the tribe that had cared for me was taken, I no longer wanted to keep living in a world where everything I loved was so broken. At such times, the soul can no longer tolerate retreating; even if violent means are out of the question for the way I have chosen, I would not turn away, I would not back down from watching while comrades were roughly dragged through the streets by these goons, the facade of disciplined soldiers marching in a line turned more openly vile whenever they advanced close enough to pepperspray at point-blank range and grab people, a pack of ravaging predators surrounding and tearing away at their prey.

There's much that could potentially be written about the thoughts that passed through my mind during the 24 hours I sat in jail, but right now I'd rather skip forward to yurt building.

Thanks to the waves of support that came in from all around in many forms, the camp was able to purchase a bunch of yurts for those endeavoring to stick it out through the winter. Building the yurts involved getting a large group of people together (around a couple dozen helpers are ideal), and under the instruction of one who already experienced in the art of assembling the yurt, within a few hours each yurt can be put together into a ready-made structure able to withstand the winter cold.

Another highlight in terms of building projects: Raising a geodesic dome.

The builders bolted things together, and everytime it needed to get raised another level, a signal was raised, and several dozen volunteers were called in to help lift.

This and many other worthwhile actions, both in terms of stopping the pipeline, and demonstrating a way of life that doesn't rely so intensively on fossil fuel extraction, were happening throughout the time I spent at Standing Rock. Even this though, does not articulate the essesnce of why what is happening in the community there is very special.

The pipeline itself is merely a beacon, even if we tend to see it as an enemy, the black snake is the threat that has brought so many like-minded souls together to create this model of a community that stands up for itself while defending what is most sacred.

The last week I spent in camp, a person who had just arrived from a faraway city, upon introducing himself, exclaimed how glad he was to have found so many other people who "get it", all gathered in one place. I understood what he meant, and it helped remind me why, aside from stopping the pipeline, the Standing Rock camp is so important. We need more places like this, beyond simply serving the purpose of stopping pipelines and defending what remains of the unpolluted water, to gather and create autonomously together.

Also, with recent election results raising the spectre of being surrounded by a country where hatred and racism are given official sanction, camps of safety and solidarity may become a practical necessity for members of targeted groups. Standing Rock, for better or worse, may become a template for future endeavors to learn from.

Thanks to the teachings of the Lakota elders, who instruct us always to remain in a mindset of prayer, no matter what happens, the spiritual foundation of the movement gives it a power beyond mere material gains and losses. Our power lies in nurturing a connection to metaphysical forces beyond conventional western understanding, and of course the greatest power is love itself: love for the people, love for the land, love for the water.

As far as scattered thoughts go, that will do it for today. Soon, I head back to the zootown to congregate for a while with folks there once more. More thoughts, pictures, and observations from the journey may be around the corner...