Keeper of the Common Good

I was "a fucking wedding cake, okay?"

Let's see, how to write about a problem I'm having in abstract terms, following the thought process I went through last night and pretty much all day yesterday? It's all tied in with other Market issues that I've been chewing on for the last few weeks and which have prevented me from wanting to write here. It's psychological stuff that is strong enough for a therapy session, so I want to use the tools I have and the process of counseling to get to the crux of it without going into the details.

I use journaling every day to put things into a concrete format for me. Something about forming coherent sentences gets me to frame my thoughts into useable chunks that I can examine both in and out of context to find the truth in there. Yesterday I also walked into the Empathy tent and used it for the first time. I thought I did what most people probably do: go in and try a little to get someone else to fix my problem for me.

The listeners were great. All of my fellow vendor listeners were great, too; no one fixed my problem. No one even gave me any advice. The listeners in the empathy tent did one thing only and that was listen in a very engaged way, allowing me to talk freely and at length without interruption, and then reflect back with anything that stuck out as a complete emotion they could describe. I remember the woman (sorry I was too upset to ask her name) saying "It sounds like you need some support." That's right, I answered, my mind searching for what kind of support I wanted and from whom. I sorted through a couple of possibilities, knowing that it was my problem and getting support that amounted to fixing it for me was not a good solution though that might have been available (like calling security or management to take it on as their problem too.)

I only spent about five minutes in there and another ten minutes maybe, complaining to friends about it, but those short intervals helped me to look at the problem within the context of my day. I was upset when I should have been focusing on my work, there in my workplace. I should have been engaging with customers and showing my products I had worked so hard to bring and display attractively, and on the next level it was time for me to get my afternoon coffee which I indulge in only on Market days and highly value as one of those rituals that matter. My cup was in the booth and my booth was full of the problem of the moment, symbolically telling me that my place was in my booth and this problem was displacing me from the day I wanted to be having.

So the listener said, "It sounds like the day is hard enough without this added on." If I had been in a therapist's office that would have been the moment I would have cried and elaborated on how hard my day was at the Market, the twelve hours, the rain, the 75 pounds of sand I have to bring on rainy days, the way I had to bend policy to get my booth to fit in the space now that we are not allowed to put anything in the fountain (one of my corners is in the fountain, which used to work okay with one leg of the canopy in the moat.) But I didn't want to add to my problems by crying in public, and I didn't want to add more caffeine to the mix either, knowing that would not calm me down and it might contribute to me saying things I couldn't take back. So I didn't just go get my coffee. I hung around other vendors until the situation had played out for about twenty or thirty minutes and then I checked in on it again.

I was angry, but didn't want to admit an emotion that strong, so I diffused it to words like annoyed and disappointed but really I was shocked and my gut was churning with anxiety and anger. I couldn't see it until that evening when I was getting soaked unloading my trailer thinking my rambling after-Market thoughts, but my particular type of PTSD was triggered and I was about as vulnerable and at emotional risk as I get these days. Which you might not even notice except my frown keeps coming back. I've gotten a lot better at putting the hormones on hold until they dissipate and I can deal with the underlying issues. That's called self-control. I used to get X's on my report card on it in the early days.

All day people were saying, "I hope the rain holds off until 5:30," or assigning other times when  it would be okay with them if it rained. I don't get finished being outdoors with my stuff until 7:00 at the earliest, so I would merely reflect on how our experiences differ and not say anything. I had my rain gear on. I don't like to one-up with hardships. I'm well aware that everyone has some hardship which is far more weighty than mine. I'm in a great position in my life in many ways, and it seems like whining to mention that I went to the dentist at 8:00 am for an expensive crown the day before, or I had a bowl of ripe tomatoes I would be forced to deal with on my day off...or that I had spent hours on Friday trying to get a stray traumatized cat out of my shop...I really don't have hardships like many people have hardships right now. Getting soaked while unloading at the end of the 12-hour day is just part of my life. I try pretty hard not to be constantly complaining just for something to talk about. So I didn't want to complain, and on any given Saturday I try to remember that. But it was the last day of October and a harder day than those lovely summer ones when the problems are mostly things like remembering to stay in the shade. Plus my foot hurt.

So while I had some self-doubt that I was over-sensitive, the situation was really not workable and I did need some support. I also knew it was my problem and I had to deal with it. The other people weren't seeing the problem. I was shocked and dismayed by that, as I had thought I had made myself clear (I was saying, "about thirty times," to the listeners) and I was hurt and perplexed that my concerns were repeatedly dismissed. I wasn't sure why I had to repeat myself so many times with the same information, the same logical points, the same declarations of what I thought were clearly described emotions, and make the same agreements only to find them dismissed the next week. "You sound like it feels frustrating," and some sympathetic looks and pats on the arm were helpful but to cut to the chase it was clear I was going to have that same discussion again, still somehow hoping it would finish this recurring issue.

So I kind of did, as it couldn't really be avoided (my fall-back tactic for difficulty). I made my same arguments and talked about my feelings with the people involved, but it went south. I'm going to hold the juicy stuff for now because it's intensely personal and off the subject of this post, but I will say that the insight did come to me in the rain that night as I was putting things out to dry and thinking about eating a bowl of heirloom popcorn for dinner. I usually bring home dinner, and I was planning to that day, but that was another way my day was changed by the hour in the middle when I had to respond to the situation imposed on me. I didn't get to control my schedule or my actions or my plans for the day, which isn't that surprising in the context of a day spent in a public park on Halloween in the rain, but that was really the crux of the problem: control.

I've studied control tactics a lot. I am extremely sensitive to controlling people. Lots of blocks in areas of my life are dominated by irrational, controlling people trying to impose their will on aspects of my life that I want my own control over. That's a simplistic view of how things operate: sometimes people are in charge of things and sometimes they want to be, and sometimes they use tactics that are skilled but less than fair and just. Some people manipulate, and they generally have a structure around that to soften it, put it in a more-or-less supported cultural context so they can get their way. At the one extreme is the person who murders women and children he thinks are his possessions to dispose of. This happened this week and happens all the damn time and is a big black dangerous hole for me that I try not to look into. It's a terrifying mindset.  That wasn't happening, but it was lurking.

There is a range of lesser behaviors that stem from that entitled and powerful position and rarely do I really have to deal personally with the life-and-death levels, but frequently I have to deal personally with people who take advantage of flexibility to impose their will. I go to meetings where people come and rant about some personal problem that they think ought to dominate the group process until they are satisfied somehow. I get emails where fearful people try to block group process because they aren't in charge of it and don't want to admit they don't have anything useful to add. I see people try to manipulate others to love them, take care of them, give them something they haven't earned, or just give them attention. Being on the sidewalk with my creations puts me in a very vulnerable position to view these manipulations and there is always some portion of potential or actual customers who try to do those things. They want the best of my work but they want a discount on the price. They want to dominate my attention while they pretend to choose something, but then they make an excuse to walk away without buying. Some of it is innocent, and some of it is calculated. Sometimes I can laugh and go along with it to a degree, but sometimes I get thrown right off my feet by it.

So yesterday I was thrown off my feet, and the person who was doing that was was using the controller language and tactics. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't recognize it, but that is the complier making excuses and part of the pattern. I think Halloween was definitely part of the picture in that I was feeling that thinner veil, when these predators and controllers of the past were lurking, coupled with the oppressive weather and my deep concern for everyone out in it and how hard their lives were. I had a long chat at the end of the day with someone I know who is living on the streets and will probably be there the rest of his life. I know emotional issues are trivial compared to life and death issues and the whole reason I am giving you this long version is my way of taking a counseling session in an indirect way. Maybe it was the position of my Kareng Fund letter in the Weekly below Sue Sierralupe talking about Occupy Medical. Yes, we do a good thing giving money to craftspeople in crisis, but Sue gets in close proximity with people in great pain and saves their lives. I admire her so much, and anyone who can do that deep caring work. Way more than I can do! People do what they can, but some try a lot harder than others are willing to, and I'm not sure I measure up at all.

But despite all of the surrounding ugly and horrifying truth of the day and the deeper levels of the problem, the insight I had is that I spend a lot of time thinking about and acting within my self-appointed role as keeper of the common good. I tend to the Market community and my OCF community and my Kareng Fund community and my Radar Angels community and my own family and neighbors and I am generally compelled by the underlying impulse to take care of all the people. I want to be one of the ones who gives and not one of the ones who takes. I want to be one of the very large group of people who have the energy and thoughtfulness and abundance in their lives to take care of others and make their lives easier. Though my efforts are minimal compared to Occupy Medical, we're on the same team.

I work to expand that and do more of it, and I work to counter my own selfishness and neediness and set those aside for the general common good. Of course as a human I have a limited capacity for that and need to be refilled with the goodness of others and the caring pats and looks that help me, but I am continually wishing that other people would tend the common good and am constantly shocked and dismayed when they don't. And I think the key to why that particular situation yesterday was so hard was that the other people did actually also believe that they were tending the common good. They were giving what they had to give and it confused them that it wasn't well-received.

The visitors to Market and the customers see what they are adding, so very apparent yesterday with all the costumes and families with little kids who brought them there where we gave treats. The entertainers bring their music to give it. The farmers lay out their abundance to share, and the concept of money is a facilitator that is a bit outside the intention of the tending, but it colors it in a problematic way.

The people who live in the park everyday see it as home. They are reluctantly willing to vacate while we use it, and we feel a certain level of priority for our use because we rent the space. We use money to control it. We expect a return for that, which is roughly translated to sales, but we also expect control of the space for our narrow purpose. We resent the people who pass through with their dogs in violation of our rules, and we really resent the groups of people who talk loudly and with profanities about their highs and pursuits of them in our space while we are using it. When they settle in on "our" benches we call Security. We feel that we should get to say who uses our space and how, so we have our raft of regulations and guidelines to enforce that. It seems right to us, but obviously not to other users of the space.

Others who also consider themselves part of our community don't see the difference between those who pay and those who don't. The people who sell at FSP see themselves as part of the Market while we see them as parasites. Though we pay the lion's share of the costs of managing the garbage and bodily wastes of all the people who use the space, (me, with my fees) the ones who use the facilities don't see the difference between paying for it and not. The farmers come over to use our bathrooms and our recycling, and the drummers feel like they bring something to add that is as highly valued as my dollars that I earn and use to make it happen the next week. All of the visitors probably expect some gratitude from me for what they brought. I am grateful, but it's not a simple exchange.

So we are all involved in creating the commons, and there is a dangerous and slippery slope where those who pay for it feel more involved or more privileged than those who are just using the benefits of it. It's a subtle difference that is not really apparent, but it's a different mindset. While I see my 8x8 as a space I pay for and thus get the right to control, how far does it extend? I'm paying for the whole four-block area in one sense, and if I were paying to park I'd probably extend that zone to the parking garages too. I feel that, but it's invisible to everyone else. I allow myself to feel an ownership and position of tender that I think is more powerful than someone's ownership and position who does not pay those fees.

It can't be that simple but it puts me into a spin about it all. How much do I really control and how hard do I fight for that? Can I extend it outside my 8x8 and if so, how far? That is why we have four hour meetings. We've had forty-five years of discussions of this very issue translated into many facets and forms. The recent internal issues were really about that: how far should one person's control go before it becomes violence against someone else?

It disingenuous to call everything violence that isn't peacemaking, but hurt is hurt and part of the tending is protecting others from hurt on any level. I am on this earth to make life more wonderful for everyone I touch, not the opposite. I'm not here to challenge you or force you to improve or coerce you to do what I want you to do. I'm not here to sell you something you don't want. I'm not here to solve your problems and I really don't want to be creating your problems. It's a lot of work to avoid creating problems for other people, but that is part of what I do. I want to keep my 8x8 clean and leave it better for my use of it. I want respect for that.

I want respect for my space and my purposes, and I am willing to extend that same respect for you if you will stick to the agreements we have made. If you are not sure if we agree, we might not. We might need to have a four-hour meeting about it. I'll try to hear you in the meeting, but I do not want to do that on Saturday when I am already working as hard as I can to do what I went downtown to do. It's a lot. It might look like selling hats to you but I am sheltering and nurturing a sweet and precious space for about a thousand people (at least) to be vulnerable and safe at the same time. I need to feel a balance there, to have a balance in my life and a feeling of control and safety about my choices and around my heart.

So yeah, it's about a lot of other things, a bigger question, as the discussion reveals each time we have it. I don't concede equal rights to my space. I have a lot going on in there. I'm in charge.

It reminds me of something that stuck hard in my mind when I was trying to move into a relationship with someone. We were sitting in my kitchen which was full of stuff that looked like clutter but was really about four crafts in progress at once, as well as headquarters for a house remodel and a single parenting of a teenage boy. I had a lot of things on my refrigerator held on by a lot of magnets. This person started taking things off my refrigerator and putting them in the trash.

In my confused state I merely took them out and put them in a box and tried to explain that I liked a lot of visual stimulus and that might look like clutter. I continued with trying to have the relationship but really it was over at that point whether or not I knew it. Don't like my refrigerator decor? Bye. My refrigerator, my kitchen.

Control. We all try to have it, but we don't all try to use it. There's a line that should not be crossed. Lots of lines, constantly being redrawn invisibly, but like a grid of shifting permissions and consents. Don't diminish me, don't dismiss me and don't come into my sphere with your violent intent. Damnit. Definitely don't do that on a Saturday. That is when I am my most vulnerable, but that is also when I am at my most powerful. I have stood there for forty years now, and I know what it is all about. I know what is right and wrong about Market. I might not know what to do in the moment, but my gut feelings are fully developed in my role as craftsperson-superwoman-tender-and-keeper. You are lucky to have me, so don't mess it up.

Don't be selfish in the most open, non-selfish community gathering in the known universe. It's about giving down there, not taking. I wish there were a way to convey that more strongly than giving things away to little kids, but that was one good way. I thank all those wonderful parents who brought their darlings to me yesterday so that I could do that in a concrete way. Thanks too to Sue Theolass and Sue Hunnel who both made special trips to bring me little beeswax candles and cool beads on strings so that I could give away handmade treasures. I am especially grateful to one Mom who saw the wrinkled brow of her little daughter when I gave her a candle and said "Don't eat it!" The mom raved over the beeswax, the smell of it, and promised to tell her daughter all about the bees who made it. So much more precious than a fun-sized Snickers. That's the way I want it to be. I really hope a lot of people want that too.