In praise of sacrifice (and commonsense)

I was watching footage of the Massey protest and arrests last night and felt guilty not being there mixing it up with those brave and focused people. Of not being there to turn on my heels in the middle of the chaos and hand something back to the Massey supporters who know of no way of expressing themselves other than lashing out physically and verbally. Of feeling too connected to the practice, knowing the computer I was getting the information through was running off coal harvested through MTR. Of wanting to do more to make the smallest dent in this snowballing, unstoppable movement. Of needing to find a voice and words that truly express the rollercoaster of genuine inspiration and red hot anger over the abuse - seen and unseen - our people are experiencing because companies like Massey have abandoned commonsense like so many ravaged ex-mountains. Of wanting to be more than an anonymous bumper sticker rolling down the highway. Of WATCHING too much and not DOING enough.

After calming down it was clearer to me that everyone even remotely involved is contributing in unique ways. When I first ran across Mountain Justice up at Pipestem, WV, four or so years ago, I felt out of place. I’d gone there in search of Don West’s spirit. It was there alright, but in the form of Mountain Justice training. Uninformed on the issues, not feeling dreadlocked, granola, and sandaled enough to feel quite comfortable just stumbling into their happening, I did, at least, come back understanding that a struggle was taking place that needed everyone. Everyone’s unique impact.

Watching from a distance can make you feel helpless and useless sometimes. But over time we find ways of expressing our demands for commonsense. Sometimes through art. Sometimes writing. Poetry. Novels. Anthologies. Protests. Letter writing. Lobbying. Through a blog posting, like this, perhaps a few will read. In conversations that hopefully, in some small way, encourage the front-liners. You know, the ones able to consistently make it to demonstrations like at Massey. The ones, like Hansen and Hannah, telling others, “Yes, I’m going to jail today. I’m sitting here until they move me. Because the reason I’m here is bigger than the interruption in my life it might cause. Because others won’t or can’t.” While some go to jail and others speak on NPR, we have to be doing back here the best we can given our circumstances, creating a way to let the frustration of how we feel morph into words others will hear.

So then, we must do something every day. We must praise those who are giving more than we are. Praise and encourage those who can do more. This is my mantra. Do something today. And tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. Until news breaks that we will never again hear the sounds of war rumbling down from our mountains.