Sleeping high up on a memory foam mattress, the red poppies printed Marimekko duvet cover pulled up to our chins, I pressed the iPad clock alarm off at 4 a.m.. George, my grey-haired Greek husband, and I dressed quickly for our mission. In military rote we packed our 30 foot motorhome, we lovingly named Gaia, to drive into Washington, D.C. for the Women’s March.
The Hydro Floss machine, George’s Sonic toothbrush, my recyclable replaceable head toothbrush, non-fluoride toothpaste, and Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap all went into the bathroom sink. The Brita water filter with George’s handwritten message “Love & Gratitude” taped on the side, electric coffee grinder filled with Fairtrade organic coffee, and stainless steel electric water kettle were stored in the kitchen sink. Everything, that could fall down during the drive, had to be put away.
I sat in the driver’s seat, turned the key to start the Ford motor, and pressed the panel on the dashboard that took up the stabilizers. These four metal columns retracted under the RV, which prevented our tiny home from shaking when we walked from the dining banquet to the kitchenette to the bathroom or bedroom when parked. George pressed the button by the door to pull in the slider, and brought in the dining banquet and kitchen leaving us an even narrower passageway. Now we were ready to take off.
In a winter forest of pine, maple and oak trees, George drove Gaia, both of us sitting high up like in a bus, down the mile and half windy road out of Maryland’s Greenbelt National Park. We turned right on Greenbelt avenue, where big chain stores, Staples, Target, Giant, Starbucks, CVS, lined both sides of the black asphalt city road. In less than a half hour on 395 Highway South, George took the Maine Avenue exit, but had to circle back because the street was still closed since President Trump’s inauguration the day before. We drove down to the next exit.
“It’s open,” I shouted above the squeaky rumbling of our motorhome.
The sun barely peaking out as we navigated down 4th Avenue.
“Stop here! I want a picture,” I said. George pulled over to the curb and parked.
In the early dawn, Gaia shined under the street light. Her plastic wrap, a printed golden sand and royal blue sky background with the message, “Heroine’s Journey: Road Trip and Quest,” fitted tightly around her gut and metal sides. Behind our motorhome, the Washington Monument phallic point covered behind a white blanket of clouds. I snapped several pictures with my Android phone and thought ‘mission accomplished.’ This iconic image and photo will be posted on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
Gaia means Mother Earth. The Washington Monument’s obelisk, an erect penis, represents masculine virility. Both must coexist in harmony and symbiotically. The heroine’s journey was our way to call attention to feminine principles–kindness, concern for everyone, taking care of nature–values that were being trampled on by the newly elected President Trump, a patriarchal broken male energy.
The healthy masculine principles serve to protect and support all of humanity and the planet through more outward actions. Together we need both, the male and the feminine working together like DNA strands in all of us, in men and women alike. When the male directives overpower the feminine, or the feminine suppresses her gifts to the male, then disease, destruction and suffering set in.
The D.C. uniformed police arrived with metal barricades. It was time for us to leave the Mall before the masses descended. The largest global demonstration in history would begin in a few hours. The 2017 Women’s March turned out to be peaceful, on point, and magnificent in its inclusivity, diversity and global unification. Outward action and inward feelings of kindness, love and harmony spawned on by courage, awareness, consciousness and clarity–standing up against bigotry, hatred and power over others. Viva la heroine’s journey!
