Occupy Vancouver.

Photo credit: Jason Payne, PNG

As I stepped-off the bus and made my way towards the corner of Howe and West Georgia, I felt the cold air etching into my bones. Having under-dressed for the weather, I quickened my pace towards my destination, navigating around the usual throng of weekend pedestrians, silently cursing myself for leaving those extra layers at home.

Photo credit: ctv.ca

Crossing Howe Street, I could see various posters coming into view, hanging from a piece of rope along the perimeter of the tents. Their hand-written messages were as varied as the multi-coloured paper they were written on. While each message was unique, they all had a common theme:

Conflict.

Whether it was the need for greater love in the world or a call for action against corporate greed, the conflict between the expectations of the authors versus what society had to offer was very evident as I walked towards to centre of the encampment.

One of the first things that I noticed was the fountain. Drained of its water, I could clearly see the chunk of missing tiles broken-away from its core. It was like seeing a handsome face but with broken teeth. As my mind conjured up the imaginary circumstances that could have preceded this attack, I could hear the distinctive sound of the didgeridoo emanating from the steps of the art gallery.

The indigenous sounds mixed with rhythmic beats were fuelling a small group of revellers on the dance floor in front of me. As their bodies twirled around and around, I could see two women completely absorbed in the moment. The grins on their faces reminded me of the images that I once saw of Woodstock in a TIME-Life Magazine. The only thing that was missing were the dandelions in their hair.

As I walked around, I couldn’t help but to notice all of the people taking pictures. With their expensive-looking gear, these people seemed out of place amongst the weather-worn collection of tents, cardboard signs and dirt. I wanted to ask them why they were taking so many pictures? It made me feel as if I were at a zoo, and the occupants were nothing more than attractions - a photo opt just there for the taking.

I wanted to engage some of these residents in a dialogue to understand their motivations for participating in this encampment, but the only ones that I saw amongst the tents were a group of young people that looked like they wouldn’t be open to speaking with an “outsider” like me. Even dressed in modest clothing, I felt as if they would have viewed me as the “enemy”, as the 1%. I wish I had the courage to challenge my notions, but in the end, my own fears in addition to the damp chill won the upper-hand.

I decided to make my way towards the Pacific Centre across the street, a refuge from the cold and from the alien world that I just entered. As I left the heart of the encampment, I couldn’t help but to notice the towering symbols of opulence and material wealth that surrounded the tents. With their imposing structures looming over me, The Hotel Vancouver, The Hotel Georgia and the TD Bank Tower were vivid reminders of the fact that we live in a capitalist society that will always be comprised of the ‘haves and the have-nots”.

As I walked past the Hotel Georgia on my way to the mall, I saw a vastly different scene being played-out before me. Through the Gaussian blur of translucent curtains, I saw a dining room filled to capacity with hotel patrons engaged in various forms of conversation and consumption. Amid the glow of candlelight, a cast of handsome waiters performed their obligatory duties, fluttering around the patrons like a team of butterflies, each one helping to create a cocoon from the ugliness outside.

Photo credit: vancitybuzz.com

Walking past the front doors, I overheard the doorman expressing his views about the scene before him to a couple of hotel patrons standing nearby. The short snippets of commentary that I managed to catch indicated that he was not in favour of what he saw (Which didn’t come as much of a surprise to me given the fact that he was just “toeing the party line”).

But I wondered if he ever stopped to think about just how easy it would be for him to end up on the “wrong side” of the street.

The very same attitude that fuels our indifference towards individuals who are marginalized by society is the same attitude that we will need to rectify if there is to be any lasting change as a result of the occupy movement. The attitude that these people don’t matter to us and have no effect on our lives or the ones that we love should serve as a warning to us all that no one lives on an “island”.

Just ask anyone who has ever been victimized by crime. How easily we forget that a downturn in the economy, a bump to the head, a flick of a pen, or just simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time can land any of us on that “side of the street”.

After Monday, the tent city will be no more. A court injunction will make sure of that.

But once the clean-up is complete and the repairs have been made, will there be any lasting change as a result of Occupy Vancouver?

The need for money in order to survive will never change. And as long as we live in a capitalist society, there will always be those who possess more material wealth than others. But for those of us who are not part of that exclusive membership, we have to be willing to exercise our purchasing power in order to create any lasting, meaningful change.

After all, in a society where money "talks", it’s the only way for any of us to really be heard.