Naked Anarchy

Civil disobedience in the wake of WTO -Seattle, WA 1999

A couple of months ago I decided to go through my boxes of old writing that have been collecting dust in my garage for years. Dozens of spiral bound notebooks of various shapes, sizes, and color that contain thousands of poems, numerous half written -never sent- letters, self loathing diary dribble, and all kinds of notes and doodles that have been haunting me, speaking to me in the dark, the whispers of my youth that wish not to be forgotten.

A large percentage of these stories and poems begin with — I was out walking…

I have always spent a great deal of my free time walking. Whether I am wandering through the back alleys of city streets, strolling along the planned inter-urban pathways, or hiking up surrounding mountain trails, the one foot in front of the other moving meditation is my mainline source of inspiration.

In 1998 and 1999 I lived in a studio apartment in the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Seattle, WA. I worked as a barista at Cafe Vita, mostly at the Pike and 12th st. location which was only a few blocks from my place.

Usually when I walk there is no specific destination in mind. But in those days, after I had finished my shift at the coffee shop I would often take my tips and go walking with the intention of winding up at a second hand bookstore called Twice Sold Tales. The one that used to be located at the intersection of Broadway and John. I spent a lot of time reading and browsing books at that store. I bought my share as well, but there was always more books that I wanted than my budget would allow. I developed a habit of stashing titles in sections where I knew nobody would be looking for them — among dictionary's, technical manuals, bibles.

In the weeks following April 30 1999 there were still a number of protesters hanging around Seattle in the wake of the WTO Battle in Seattle who were determined not to let the momentum of that rebellion die. It was not uncommon to see groups of activists on street corners holding signs at spontaneous rally's or great acts of guerrilla theater being performed in random locations about the city.

Within a couple of months most of the activity had settled and like most of the city I had more or less moved on from the news and interest that Seattle had garnered from the big event. However, on one particular sunny day early in the month of July I was walking to Twice Sold Tales to pick up a hardcover copy of the Kyballion - Hermetic philosophy- by the three initiates which I had stashed among some old American history books when I happened upon the single greatest act of civil disobedience that I have ever witnessed to this day. It occurred right there, at the intersection of Broadway and John, just as I was arriving to the book store. When it was over I ran home, about 15 blocks, as fast as I could and wrote the following -

Every once in a while when I am out walking the streets I will witness something that is such a shock to the routine of things that my whole life for that moment seems a surreal impossible dream. The only reason I know the fabric of reality has not unraveled before me is that others are there observing the same thing.

I saw a young man with long blonde dreadlocks and a scraggly beard, body wrapped in a flannel blanket, walk to the center of the very busy intersection of Broadway and John, lay his blanket out in the road like he was going to have a picnic and then take a seat, stark naked.

It was high noon and he sat there in lotus pose, eyes closed, breathing heavily through the nose.

All traffic stopped and he held complete composure.

Immediately angry horns commenced honking and commuters began blurting out all sorts of curse words and threats. The streets became littered with blunt insults and emotional spears sharped by hate and fear.

Chaos was coming from all angles and this crazy hippy dude just sat there in the middle of it all wearing nothing but a little smile.

A short, heavy set, big bosom woman standing next to me wearing a tight sky blue t-shirt with the word (r)evolution hand written in sharpie marker across her breasts turned to me and said “Should we do something? He is going to be killed!”

“I…I…” was all I could muster in a mumble. I couldn't look away. I just kept staring at that smile on his face.

Then I understood.

I don’t think that man could have been moved even if a group of us tried to pull him from his station. His center of gravity was so deeply rooted in the earth he would probably stop a car that tried to run him down, which could have happened at any moment.

A red Buick heading North on Broadway went around him taking a right turn onto John. The driver flipped this naked man the bird. In his aggressive turn and absent minded display of obscenity he almost takes out a pedestrian walking in the crosswalk.

Serious tension has mounted. Anticipation, fear. A large crowd has gathered. Bewilderment, anger and awe ripple through the atmosphere. So thick with chaos and confusion.

And in the center of it all sits this man, completely naked. Breathing heavy and steady. Appears to me, at least for the moment, an enlightened being.

Even as the sounds of sirens begin to wail in the distance, he sits.

Long past the arrival of the first responders, he breathes.

The officers appeared to be as uncertain of how to handle the situation as the rest of us. They did not know how to approach, what to expect from this man as they neared the naked situation.

“Are you okay?” one of the policemen said.

The naked man opened his eyes. He stood and wrapped the flannel blanket that he had been sitting on around himself and walked over to whom appeared to be the commanding officer, bowed eye to eye, and then just walked on by. His subtle smile never left his face. Never quivered with fear. Not a twitch I swear it.

When he strolled by me he gave me a wink. Chills went up and down my body like I had been kissed by a divine spirit.

And then with all the peace and calm in the universe he just walked on down Broadway.

He walked on as if he had only taken a moment to ingest the sweet aroma of a stargazer lily in full bloom. Like he had just paused to skip a rock across a placid lake and we were all just concentric ripples that would dissipate over time.

He walked away while the traffic remained still. A quiet overtook the crowd as we all stood there on the four corner blocks of Broadway and John and watched him walk away, amazingly unscathed, seemingly unchanged by what just took place. We all just stood there stunned.

Pure fucking anarchy!