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New Gardens

Posted in Austin, Life, and Occupy Wall Street

I haven’t posted since Occupy Austin got evicted from City Hall suddenly on the night of February 3, after a full day of action and marching. The next day involved still more encounters with the police state during a march against homelessness. There are a lot of words to share about what happened, and maybe sometime I’ll share them here on my blog.

A pathway in the new Occupy Austin community garden in East Austin. Cilantro in cinderblocks was transplanted from wild plants growing at avocasa.

But a lot has been happening since. I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed with my life right now — engaged in an ongoing legal issue, struggling with money, and dealing with some considerable stress in my personal life. It’s been hard to make my muse come out of hiding. Paradoxically, that doesn’t alleviate my need to write — I still get the added anxiety that I naturally feel when the words aren’t flowing, even when they simultaneously feel blocked.

As I coax my words back out I am encouraging myself to write smaller if I have too. Not everything needs to be a 750 word blog post. Instead, I remind myself that I can throw up a few photos, a storify post about my recent activities, or a youtube video of an interview with a little added commentary. So hopefully look for more of that kind of post in coming days.

Spring has arrived in Texas. The nights are still cool, but the days frequently warm up into the 60s and 70s. A new community garden has appeared on the East Side, my part of Austin — it’s actually on the same city block as my house, around the corner and down an alley. It’s part of Occupy Austin’s efforts at community outreach after eviction. Kristen, my housemate, and I have also started working to reclaim our garden beds at Avocasa, which filled up over the winter with grass and, more happily, wild onions, cilantro and mint.

I feel like I am fighting off depression caused by many factors. The last few days, I’ve felt like the two things keeping me sane are the company of my fellow activists from time to time, and the feeling of using my hands — transplanting, or pulling weeds, or painting our new compost bin bright pink. Just those simple, physical acts, simple physical pleasures, are enough right now.