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OCD in isolation is painful and lonesome.
OCD en masse may be one of the most progressive and inspiring ideas of the century.
I admit, I don't know a lot about the Occupy Wall Street movement. I spent a few hours in Zuccotti Park with my kids, but felt more like a spectator at a museum - pointing out colorful signs and the tent for toiletries. My 3-year-old daughter wanted to take home one of the peanut butter sandwiches at the community kitchen. Which led to a discussion about have's and have-not's at a nearby Starbucks. She was thrilled about the bag of almonds I bought her.
I have great admiration for the people who've "occupied" over 1500 U.S. cities from Staten Island to Boca Raton. I'm in awe of the worldwide protests - in Tunisia, Egypt, Madrid, Athens, Moscow, London - places I've never seen and struggles I've certainly never experienced.
The most impressive piece of this worldwide movement for me?
The human microphone.
This is the way occupiers broadcasted their speeches without getting a permit for amplified sound. It started back in the seventies with the anti-nuclear protests. Most likely you've seen it either in person or on the news by now.
"Mic check!" yells the speaker.
MIC CHECK! the crowd responds.
"This is my blog post!"
THIS IS MY BLOG POST!
"About Occupy OCD!"
ABOUT OCCUPY OCD!
When I was little, I learned my words, thoughts, and opinions from whoever was loudest near me. Repeating someone else's words is truly an act of flattery. An acknowledgement that I've heard you, and appreciate your thoughts at least enough to put it in my own mouth, let it vibrate on my tongue. The speaker gets a sense of validation and even honor. So I told everyone I wanted be a trombone player like my big brother Jonny. I recited the lyrics to Kiss Me Kate to imitate my dad. Memorizing was a passionate skill for me, proving my worth. Obsessively praying was the next (il)logical step - I learned prayers in English, Hebrew, and figured out the harmonies for songs so I could fill out the congregation seamlessly. I found so much comfort in repeating other people's words that I grew scared of voicing my own. When I did, I usually started with "I'm sorry..."
The human microphone, while rooted in this same concept of repetitive devotion, is clearly forging a new path. From an engineering perspective, it's obviously not the most efficient means to send a message. And yet, it's far wiser than rigging up a bunch of bullhorns.
The rules are simple: Keep it short and sweet. Listen and respond. One repetition per phrase.
The results are sometimes jumbled, and often cacophonous. And phenomenally slooooooow.
It makes sure this is a dialogue of many people and many thoughts, moving with collective consciousness. Often blurring the line between speaker and listener. A cooperative effort.
This is what OCD by itself can never achieve. I can chant mantras or Shema's endlessly, and I will never feel like I've done enough. Whether I'm trying to please my older brother, my late father, or G-d, my repetitions have never been open for any other voice to come through.
I need to learn from this global movement and incorporate it into my existence more often. Living with a one and three-year-old, I get plenty of material daily. The most commonly repeated phrases from our apartment:
"I want it on a pink plate!"
"I smell poop!" and
"Mama dada aaaaaaaaaaagh!"
Instead of talking over them, what would happen if I listened and reiterated it back to them? Especially when everyone is shrieking, there is something deliciously freeing about matching them decibel for decibel. Productive? Maybe not if the goal is to nap. But on a psychological level, the bond we can create with our sore throats is truly healing.
It could release me from my fear of never being enough.
Tonight when my daughter picks out Dora's Halloween Adventure (which I've had to read to her almost every night before bed since October 31st), I will have her turn the pages and tell me the story.
In short phrases. Pausing for me to understand, repeat, and honor her words.
Special thanks to these great and insightful articles:
We are all human microphones now
