We did something a little a little unusual yesterday.
We participated in a protest called Beach Impeach III. Some of the photos I took during the event are available here.
I know many would have considered it a waste of time. And at one time we would count ourselves among that group. Always somewhere to go and something to do, and the bits in between spent trying to make sense of everything else. But I’m afraid that complacency is slowly killing us all, without so much as a blip on our collective radar.
The protest attempted to send a single unified message. It’s effectiveness will have to be judged by others but am hopeful it had some impact. I am sure many of you thought it was a bunch of naked, left-wing crackpots trying to spell out IMPEACH on the wet grass but too high to get the letters right. But it was nothing like that at all. Sure there were hippies, but there were also families, grandparents, brothers and sisters, partners, of all ages, colors, shapes and sizes. All trying to paint an image that represents the anger and frustration they carry, and participating in that act with others of like mind and spirit provides some level of ease.
And I think that was the key for us yesterday. It was more about participating then sending a message. And it was time to stop being complacent and do something. So we participated in a protest.
We were sad that no one we knew could join us, because it was an experience best shared. There was such a sense of community standing on that grass as helicopters floated by snapping photographs. For a moment the phrase “It only takes a village,” seemed to have more than a “bumper sticker” meaning.
But protesting is only one form of participation. Some volunteer. Others become politically active. All our equally important and have their place. Getting involved is key. Standing idly by is not.
Because while people work, consume and sleep, the freedoms we take for granted are gradually taken away. And while the dull thudding of a complacent media pounds what masquerades as truth in our ears, our resolve slowly weakens. It happens almost imperceptibly because we don’t notice the tortoise as it struggles toward the finish line, only the hare as it bounds by, drawing attention to itself. It’s this inexorable crawl we should be wary of, as it never exposes itself for what it truly is, and we never notice the damage it has done until it is too late.
I suspect this will not be the last protest we attend, and hope that others will join us.
There are many roles we can play. But playing sheep, shouldn’t be one of them.
Last week the