Chasing Feet

As a little girl I remember so many nights, staring up at the high ceilings of the bedroom where I grew up, wondering what other kinds of beds I could be sleeping in. My bed had a wooden head board with a carved design and I would run my hands across it. I had a heavy, white embroidered quilt that was my Great Grandma's. I liked it but I liked to have my feet stick out because I got hot and I liked to rub my feet together as I fell asleep. My friends told me that even after I'd fallen asleep my feet would keep moving. They would say my feet liked to chase each other all night. I'd lay there and try to imagine where everyone else in the world was sleeping and what their feet were doing. I lived in Sebastopol, a small town in Northern California, where I think most people were sleeping in a situation similar to mine- in their own beds with lots of covers. I knew of one guy who didn't have a home – but I knew where he slept and I'd seen how he set up his bed on the porch of a church down the street. I worried about him sometimes but his bed actually looked alright. I just worried he didn't have anyone to say goodnight to.

I knew some people slept in hammocks, others with their whole families in one bed. I imagined people slept in canoes, tree houses, igloos and I wanted to know so much more. All those places sounded alright to me, some of them really fun. I wondered though, if there was a really scary place in one of the corners of the earth where I wouldn't be able to sleep because I'd be scared. I couldn't imagine it. Maybe somewhere where there were lots of guns, but I knew some people with guns were really nice so I thought I'd be okay there. I guess I thought if there was someone nice to say good night to- nothing could be that scary.

I've been stuck with this wonder for twenty five or so years, trying to understand why this is my bed and I'm not in another bed, with another family. What if I woke up tomorrow piled in a bed with a new Mom and Dad and sister- would I learn to love them as much as my family?

Last October I had a feeling that I knew the answer was yes. I woke up before my alarm on the couch in my office. I could see the Oakland Tribune clock tower- it was 4:25am. I opened my laptop, it was late afternoon in Asia. It was 10/10/10 – a day I had been waiting for. I had helped 350.org to organize an international day of action on climate change. 7,700 event in 188 countries were planned. At this point many of those had already happened and now it was about getting the photos uploaded for the world to see. I signed on to see if anyone needed help uploading the photos or videos. I opened a new tab and typed in flickr.com/350org - one by one photos from around the world popped up in our flickr feed, they just kept coming. Whoa.


This photo of an old man riding a rickshaw with a 350.org visor and a woman in the back popped up and something inside me clicked. In my pajamas, at work, sitting alone before sunrise I starred at this photo. How is this possible? Who is this person? How did he hear about the event? Look how sweet that lady looks? Where'd he get that 350.org hat? I want one. At that moment the answer to my childhood question was clear. I could picture exactly where he slept and I knew I'd be fine if he was the one I said goodnight to.

The photos came flooding in – East Timor, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, Iraq. The corners of the earth had the flickr game down, no one needed my help.

I closed my laptop, reset my alarm for 6:30am and pulled my blanket back up over me. The green office couch was a good bed for me and my chasing feet for now.

This blog was published the day after the 2011 day of action, the Moving Planet. Check out highlights from the day here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/350org/sets/72157627613240511/

“Keep going, what else?”

When I woke up this morning I couldn't decide what to wear. I didn't want to wear the same thing I wore to her wedding, but I didn't really have anything else to wear. I felt so morbid thinking, what would I want my friends to wear if today was my memorial? How would I want them to feel? I could see each one of us standing in front of our mirrors putting on our mascara, thinking about what a waste of time it was.

It was that day for Maggie. That day when her friends all woke up to get dressed for her memorial. It's always the same for me. My heart drops, my stomach turns and I think, POOR Maggie. Immediately I then think, poor us...

You know that sort of righteous kind of nervous you get sometimes when you are like, yeah, I'm nervous but if they don't accept me for me then forget it, I can't be anyone but me. I wrestled that feeling all the way home from Sri Lanka, all 16 hours. I would land, Julian, who I had been with for 5 years but barely talked to in the past 3 months, would be at the airport. Whenever I haven't seen him for a while he always looks so different to me and his face feels weirdly soft. It can take me a while to get used to him again.

It was Wednesday when he picked me up and we drove straight to Tahoe to go to Maggie and Man Ryan's wedding that weekend. I felt that kind of nervous. I donno, Maggie just always seems so normal, so together. I was worried everyone would think I was a weirdo for going off alone and going to a silent meditation course for 10 days. What if they thought I had problems? What if I did have problems? I took a few deep breaths to try to get rid of that righteous kind of nervous. I just didn't want to feel like a weirdo at the wedding. I didn't want to feel like the only one in the room that was maybe a little uncomfortable with the world.

I think we were in Gabe's Ford Explorer. Maggie and I crawled in the back with all the 24 packs of Budweiser. It was the night before her wedding and we had just finished the rehearsal dinner.

Maggie put both her hands on my knee and in the dark I could see the white of her eyes searching for mine, “Sooooo, tell me about the meditation.”

I coached myself into telling her the truth, and why not just start with the crazy stuff? “It was insane Mags, it was like the most intense thing I have ever done by far. I didn't know what to do because some days sitting with my eyes shut for 13 hours a day made me feel such unfathomable pain that I felt like someone had taken an axe to my leg, but it wasn't real pain, it was like pain my mind was making up because as soon as I'd open my eyes it'd go away.”

Before I could finish my sentence, before I could back track and try to normalize the whole thing, she squeezed my knee, “Heather, I am so proud of you. Seriously Heather, I am so proud and inspired by you for doing that.” Proud and inspired by me feeling like my leg got chopped off??? She continued and said something to the effect of whatever drew me to do that, drew me there for reason and way to go for just going through it. She told me I was brave. Then she said with excitement, “Keep going, what else?”

Gosh, thanks Mags. Thanks for seeing me as me and not as the weirdo I am sometimes afraid I am.

I didn't want to sit at the park today without you there. I didn't want to watch each person go up one by one and fight to tame their shaking hands and lay their broken heart out for us. Humans can control anything, wasn't there anything we could do to bring you back?

I closed my eyes and I listened to the words of your Godfather, of Brody, of Em, of your Ryan, of Scott, I listened to the words of Henry's song. They weren't words coming out of broken hearts. They were words coming out of hearts that have let a crazy powerful spirit inside. They were words coming from people who have all been brave enough to open their hearts to someone willing to see them for all of who they are. It's special Maggie, really really special.

Since you died my world has been turned on its head and back a few times. I can't understand where you are and I can't understand why it is so sad to think about you being gone but why you also don't really feel gone at all. It's crazy Maggie. I get this overwhelming sense that you are fine out there, that you are good, and that we all have something so deep to learn from that. From the idea that you are you no matter where you are, no matter how hard it is for us to comprehend. I guess I want say thanks to you, for sending me that feeling that you are there. Sometimes when I close my eyes I can feel your two hands on my knee and from my knee I can sense the assurance that your spirit puts out in the world that it's okay, totally okay, to just be me.

I'm braver because of you Mags. Thank you.