My Fractivism Debut

Today, I stood up and took part. Today, I met people who are (in some essential ways) like me. For a man without a tribe, meeting people of what seem to be ‘my tribe’ was reassuring and powerful (my ‘tribe’ is actually Gaians, people of our planet). Standing up and being part of change, instead of advocating it in words or personal actions, was more than powerful; it was cathartic. So I just had to share some of my fractivism moments, feelings, and reflections with you, Dear Reader (all three of you, LOL).

See, I am kind of a loner. I sort of don’t fit in…anywhere. I don’t currently enjoy sharing life with a lover or partner, so much of my ‘practice’ is simply working to be one less angry person, one more person picking trash off the trails, one more person who will let you into the flow of traffic, or help you if you need help…one more person smiling and singing songs of peace and love. That has been enough up to now.

Thus, I typically spend a lot of time pedaling, going to yoga or the gym, and hiking. I spend a lot of time drawing and singing and in meditation. I spend a lot of time researching and writing, studying and learning. Yet (pardon the crudity) it’s kind of like a dog licking his own balls; he does it because he can, it keeps him content, yet it doesn’t make any change in the world. I ain’t biting anyone, but I sure ain’t been helping in any concrete ways, either.

In our apathetic nation, people have little time for or patience with altruism, with service, with helping implement change. It seems so futile at times; an oligarchy that doesn’t care, a government that doesn’t seem to represent the people, the proven idiocy of our elections, and possible futility of our votes. Still, I hold out hope. So does my fractivist tribe. We are perhaps the fools, those who think we can actually make meaningful change in the world. We are the dreamers.

As I marched (well, sauntered or strolled is more accurate, but marched sounds good) toward Vitamin Cottage, I felt like I was somehow marching in ranks with Martin Luther King, with Harriet Tubman, with all the people who have worked for change. Sure, I was just trying to get the people a voice in what happens to them (nothing Earth-shattering in that, right?), but somehow I felt like I was part of a global movement, one that has been going on since the beginning of society. It is a movement of people dedicated to peace, to social justice and responsibility…and people willing to work for it, to take to the streets and face opposition peacefully, try to appeal to the good and the best in each person. I may not have been worthy to be in their ranks, but still I felt a little proud, a little alive, as I began to help try and facilitate change.

All we were really doing was placing two ballot initiatives before the people. In Colorado, they are called ’75’ (Local Control) and ’78’ (Mandatory Buffer Zones). Initiative seventy five would allow communities to decide for themselves if and how oil and gas ‘development’ happens in their communities. To me this is a big one, promoting grass-roots democracy and the right of the people to choose. It is especially big since in Longmont, we voted a moratorium on fracking but…weren’t allowed to. That’s right; we voted by democratic majority, and yet had fracking shoved down our throats by a state government that appears to be bought and sold by Big Oil.

The initiative (75) seems inarguable and logical…let the people decide, by democratic majority. Let the local people decide what happens locally. If Weld County wants to frack their county into something resembling an episode of (the documentary) Gasland, then that is their choice. Like we used to say as kids…majority rules. If Boulder County doesn’t want that, then we should be allowed to choose so…if we have a democratic majority. Seems pretty cut and dried, eh?It seems like something we can all agree on, and I like that.

The second initiative (78) also seems pretty inarguable as well. It defines a half-mile ‘buffer zone’ between fracking sites and schools, homes, playgrounds, and other sensitive areas (such as water sources and wetlands). It seems to make perfect sense, and be a reasonable precaution. Once again, pretty cut and dried, non? Non.

As I wandered around the Whole Foods/Barnes and Noble area, I noticed many people suddenly look busy when they saw me and my clipboard approaching. I mean, we who live in Boulder County know what that clipboard and hopeful look means…another ballot initiative, perhaps presented by a paid canvasser. I myself have been asked to sign these initiatives many times as I wandered around Boulder, and apparently so has everyone else.

Many suddenly fumbled with their keys, averted their eyes, or tried to look busy. Others tried to look deep in thought (or inapproachable)…some wanted to play like they spoke no English (which was okay, since I speak rudimentary French , German, Spanish, and Gaelic). Others simply looked weary. As time went on, I began to notice the looks, to decipher the demeanors. Some clearly hated the idea, while some were good sports and had already signed. Others were apolitical, and seemed to resent me trying to get them to be politically active. All versions of the ‘Heisman’ stiff-arm, I took them in stride. I respected their rights to be left alone, thanked them, and wished them (sincerely) a good day.

I didn’t push those who averted their eyes or adopted protective postures. I spared those staring darts at me, those obviously wanting to punch the old hippy ‘libtard’ they saw coming. Yet I did try to make an honest effort to politely approach those who seemed approachable. As the hot day wore on, I began to ask less discriminately. Some seemed thankful when I kept it short…’interested in signing the fracking initiative?’ Others seemed to appreciate humor….’have you been pestered to death about fracking yet?’ I let my instinct guide me on which approach to take.

Armed only with a smile and a clipboard, I kept at it, trying to keep moving and not bother the citizenry too much. Yet this initiative is going to die if we don’t get enough signatures to get it on the ballot by the eighth. Thus every signature really counts. So I kept on, pressing gently, politely, humorously if I could. The responses were as varied as the people I met and talked to.

One person actually came to find me, as her partner told her I was at Vitamin Cottage (Natural Grocers) areas with a initiative. She was nice; it made me feel good -a socially responsible person, actually coming to me. I liked that she had a transgender button on. I don’t know her sexual status, and don’t care. For all I know, she is just a person who wants equal rights for others and is not transgender. All I cared about was she was a nice, polite, concerned American trying to make a difference, vote for what she believes in. I really needed that today.

Others were gruff, and with some you could see they were at the edge of blowing up at something or someone. All good. Those people I gave a smile to, and let pass in peace. Some I tried (those looking less angry). I told them the initiatives were not (per se) for or against fracking, but for the chance to get the issue on the ballot, so citizens could vote any way they wanted. That seemed to work for some.

During breaks, I was counter-canvassed by anti-government people, anarchists, and voting futility people. I listened politely, eagerly, glad they shared with me their viewpoints. I told them all (and believe it) that we need them too…not to vote as we want, but to hold space for what they believe, to act to implement the world they desired within their spheres of influence. They are part of us, too. They are our shipmates on this planet, or ‘shippies’ as the sailors call them.

I met one old guy who used to work for Halliburton (a big oil company). He told me a lot of what it was like on those rigs, and some of the issues drillers faced. He told me how it might be more environmentally unsound to drill a new well, than to try to ‘frack’ an existing one. He gave me a gift…the desire to learn more about the specifics and technology of fracking, the processes and pitfalls. I doubt I’ll change my mind, but I will keep it open. At worst, I will be able to speak more intelligently with parties on both sides of the issue. See, I’m a geek, an engineer, and a scientist of a sort. I love technology, especially well-implemented, safe, useful technology.

So there I was, wandering around looking like a hippy weirdo (or worse, an OLD hippy weirdo). Now, I can’t help the face I have; all I can do is adorn it with a smile. I know I look like someone’s crazy grandpa, or an insane gnome, or a wild leprechaun (I’ve been told all these things about my physiognomy). I would sure like to have seen my results if the buffed-up, twenty five year old me was trying this. Would my incredible masculine beauty and virility (at the time) have gotten me more signatures? Would my youthful and hopeful face do the trick? Can we get issues on the ballot with sex, or with lovely appearances? Maybe, but not me.

So I kept on with my old face and my crooked smile. I sweated and I walked. Occasionally, I looked up towards Our Beloved Flatirons, where I might normally be hiking. Sometimes I glanced toward the farm where I was giving up the chance for twenty five bucks an hour cash…just for digging a well and doing a little electrical support. None of that mattered.

Walking around in the heat, being mostly ignored or abhorred, I was…okay…happy. I felt like I was doing something, although it took me a good part of a day to fill a single page in signatures.

Sometimes I felt (by the responses) that I was a homeless person trying to bum a cigarette in a town of non-smokers, or a medicant (beggar) ‘flying a sign’ asking for money among poor people. For Buddha’s sake, I wasn’t trying to sell war, or bomb Libya. To many, I might as well have been. I could see Boulder is in a sort of activism burnout stage. We have signed so many petitions (online and on paper) we are dizzy. We have tried to facilitate so much social change…only to be disenfranchised and ignored by our representatives, marginalized by our electoral system, and confounded by the big money of Big Business, we have become a bit ‘shell-shocked.’ I get it.

Still, I tried.

I’m not sure I have communicated just how different this was for me. I don’t like to sell or proselytize anything, especially in person. I don’t like to force ideas on people, or make them uncomfortable. (Of course, as a writer and musician, I don’t mind these things when done in words or song, but in person is another matter entirely). I am somewhat socially inept, and a big conflict-avoider (if I can get away with it). So it was hard to step out there and not be just a smiling face passing by on his bicycle, unaffected by movements and petitions, unmoved by anything except my own motivation.

A large number of people actually thanked me for what I was doing. For a person who has experienced the frustration of seeing our nation become more fragmented and apathetic daily, of seeing our government present a empire-building, militarized front to the world (with seemingly little hope of our citizens changing it), this was incredible. I suppose more people thanked me for helping in this way than ever thanked me for my military ‘service’ to the country. That is perhaps as it should be; I think (and feel) one less fracking rig would be more valuable to us than one less ‘enemy.’ It sure feels better at the end of the day.

This is not a task for the thin-skinned, or for the easily discouraged. I went in with pretty thick skin: I have no ego involved in this. I am not getting paid to do it. If it get a million signatures or a single one, I have tried. I understand many oppose the initiatives, and many resent being polled and prodded by canvassers on both sides of the issue. To many, we are just telemarketers in person, and far uglier than they imagined. To some, we are Green environmental freaks, tree huggers, and damn worthless hippies who should be wearing Carharts, smoking Marlboros, and working a ‘real job’ like a ‘real man.’ That’s okay. I know who I am and what I stand for. That’s enough.

To some (me included, in the case I will soon present) these people are bloody heroes. They are the anti-warriors, the ‘peaciers‘ who try to promote progressive change and social/ecological justice. We are the people who just want sustainable, sensible communities who will treat the Earth with some respect, and leave some of it for future generations.

One of the people was the guy who had the courage to stand up on stage and confront Governor Hickenlooper for voting against our demonstrated will, and for supporting oil and gas companies over the state he is sworn to protect. Of course, the person I am speaking of was rushed off stage by the police, but he stood up, and asked the question, the question he as a citizen had the right to ask. He stood up, and faced our governor peacefully yet firmly. Like the woman putting a flower in a soldier’s gun at Kent State. Like hundreds of Americans of African descent who stood up to Jim Crow and demanded a vote. Like all those throughout history who dared to voice a dissenting opinion.

Man, that took guts. Sure, it ain’t charging a machine-gun nest, but this was courage for peace, courage for the purpose of protecting our planet, for demanding government accountability, for requesting a open and honest dialogue, not decisions signed by big shots behind closed doors. Today, I met one of my heroes…a lot of them, actually. The people making this happen are two yogis I have taken classes from and with. They are clear-eyed, active people, self-actualized and socially concerned and responsible…everything I am not. I love them.

So my head is still swimming in memories as I write, my heart open from the experience. The one thing that could have taken my mind off our new war…happened. I got involved, took part in something, tried to affect some sort of change for some (any) good cause. Jenn Calaway (another of my heroes)…I am no longer mute. I will stand for what I believe and say what I think and feel, despite the consequences. I will TAKE PART.

Sure, I might be better suited for stopping Japanese whaling ships, or doing the Monkey-Wrench Gang type of ‘direct action’, but I think I like this…no violence, no shows of strength needed (yet courage and conviction required). We have no enemies, and no goals or objectives other than to allow our fellow citizens the chance to make informed votes about issues. This is a peaceful revolution. We aim to respect others’ rights and property, yet still effect positive change and choice. It’s non-violent, and is what yogis and Green Party people believe in.

Today, I was ‘boots on the ground’…doing what I do best…getting it done. Today, I was ‘in the trenches’ advocating for grassroots democracy. It is a war of a sort, a peaceful war. As a warrior, I like that. I want to be in the mellow class, or the caregiver class, or musician class, or something nice and groovy. Yet I am a warrior, sent here to protect and defend. I find I can do that peacefully. I can protect (or help to protect) our planet, our beloved state, our county. I can defend peoples’ right to be informed, to have local choice on local issues. I love that.

Not one bullet fired. Not one oath hurled, or hand raised in anger. Just reason, opportunity, the law that unites us. Just the actual democratic process, people getting involved to create a better city, county, state, nation, and world. 

I try to impress on my grandson that by our actions we (to a large degree) define ourselves. If I climb, then by definition I am a climber. How good a climber I am is another matter, but the fact I climbed The Slab (or wherever) fulfilled the definition of a climber, and to one degree or another, appended my name with climber. Mark Mullen, climber. Mark Mullen, aspirant on the path of yoga, etc. I try to impress on him that by his choice of actions, he can determine those appendages that if not define him, at least describe more than his experience…describe his actions.

I have appended many things to my name, both good and bad. I have acted like a mean person before, and as a (and I quote) shining bundle of love. I choose. Today I chose to append something else to my name, and did it by my actions. Mark Mullen, fractivist. Mark Mullen, activist. Mark Mullen, volunteer initiative circulator. Of course, if I do it only once, I will be Mark Mullen, one-time fractivist. If I do it until the end of my life, I might become Mark Mullen, long-time activist. If I had begun in my teens and kept it up, I could claim to be Mark Mullen, lifelong activist.

I am re-stating the obvious because one day my (then older) grandson may read my words, and  perhaps be guided by them.

I may not become a long-time activist. I like to keep my schedule open, for whatever life brings (and am willing to be relatively ‘poor’ to do it). I may only help between now and the eighth, the deadline for signature submission. Either way, for once in my life, I will have helped. For once, I aligned with an honorable cause for a good goal, took part in something bigger than myself. I liked that. I am thankful for that, the opportunity to do such meaningful work.

It could be like the anti-government guy I spoke with today said and our votes ultimately don’t matter, and we are all dupes and pawns of the oligarchy, but…I guess I will not be a dupe or a pawn that just sat back and let it happen. I will be a dupe or pawn (if that’s what I am) who at least tries to change things. 

Of course, the real change and the important change comes from within. I know this and agree…and have been working that deeply for almost the past decade, working it for my entire life. Yet perhaps now it is time to stand up and align with what I believe in, time to get out and work for the changes I want. Sure, I’ll try to be the change. I will also try to actually make the actions that result in change, perform the actions that help accomplish change.

Of course, change is inevitable, so the type of change I want to help bring about is positive social change, change for the welfare of people and planet, without distinction or division. The values I believe in are found (in part) in many ancient and modern books, and are echoed throughout the ages by the sages. Yet the personal, social, and political values I believe in and the practical suggestions for implementing those values, the reasonable and honest goals those values are directed towards, are best reflected for me in the Green Party Platform. I must admit, I agree with virtually all of the Socialist platform as well, but the Green Party seems to offer more practical suggestions and goals.

I don’t care. Parties are the old way of thinking. Our society is quickly dividing into those for progressive social change and those for the status quo, the system, and for keeping the world the way it was in the good old days of dear old dad. We are becoming divided not by party, but by those for war and authoritarian paradigms (out of belief or political expediency) and those firmly opposed to war and force, and for non-violence.

It’s not a good or evil thing; that also is the old way of seeing these things. It is more a division between basic altrusim and basic greed or fear. Being a person of strong ego, and one who has been greedy for many things at many times, it is odd I would align with these more idealistic and basically morally courageous people. Yet they speak what is in my heart and what I aspire towards, not necessarily how I am or have been.

I can’t change how I have been, and most definitely wouldn’t want to, even the bad parts.

All I can do now is vote what I believe, act what I believe, try to bring what I believe into fruition. I am a good gardener and good husband. I can help bring these to fruition, to flowering. I can at least try, my very best.

I will need to find other practical and effective ways to further this change, but I think getting down in the trenches (of Boulder, LOL) to help effect grassroots democracy is a good first step.