At about 2 p.m. on Nomember 28, 2011, just a few blocks from the World Trade Center site, where construction of the Freedom Tower continues in earnest, I come upon a small barricaded and heavily guarded patch of concrete ironically decked with Christmas cheer. There number of cops is wildly disproportionate to the number of activists here, with a profusion of crowd monitoring and control devices no doubt poised to quickly detect and disperse any possible resurgence or flash mob. It is immediately clear to me that Zuccotti Park will never again be occupied, at least in the way it once was by Occupy Wall Street.

The following words cannot possibly be true.

There is the unshakable field of having wanted to come here, of having chosen a life as human being, as this multitude of human beings all self-aware and clawing their way back to Self. But stepping back from the grit of living, the thrall of striving, and even the non-experience of realized being, find this being human vibration appears like a script read before. Prior art.