Memphis Democrat Column Week of 5/4/09
Howdy Memphis Democrat readers, this is Brandon, a “perennial” visitor to Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage, sitting on the porch swing of the Common House enjoying the sunshine, watching the mud dry up a bit, and writing to report on the goings-on in the village from a slightly different angle. Typically a community member would write this column, but in an effort to pitch in during my visit, I offered to recount some of the activities in the village from the past week and share a glimpse of this place through the eyes of a person who has visited several times.
One thing that has certainly changed since that first visit to Dancing Rabbit in the spring of 2005 is the number of building projects going on here. I bet if I had a postage stamp for every board and timber cut on, every nail and screw driven, and every shovelful of dirt, gravel or mulch moved in the village this past week I could mail enough envelopes to wallpaper the inside of the Milkweed Mercantile. But what a shame that would be, having seen the amazing mosaic work Tamar has done there on the earthen plaster wall.
In the four years since my introduction here to life in an ecovillage, I’ve watched Dancing Rabbit’s population more than double resulting in the aforementioned buzz of activity and its expanding village periphery. And I don’t remember there being near as much distinction in describing various village locales during those early visits. Gone are the days when it was sufficient to respond with an “over yonder” when inquiry was made about the location of this or that.
Let me see if I can illustrate. Several days ago, a walk across town offered up no less than nine concurrently active building projects. I spied Tim out by the circle drive prepping old barn siding for fabrication into tent platforms. A stop by the Mercantile yielding two, Thomas and Jacob doing plaster work inside while flooring for the porch went together on the outside. Next, I happened upon Papa Bear doing joinery woodwork for the Timberframe addition. Meanwhile, Cynder, Jennifer, and Owen, a work exchanger (“wexer”), were moving wheelbarrow loads of gravel here and there as part of the preparation for raising the bents (assembled portions of the post and beam framework).
Then I went across the ultimate field to the new neighborhood. I first encountered Tony and Skyhouse wexer Jonathan assembling solar panel racking for Ma’ikwe. She now has a big Army tent on her site and was breaking out building materials with wexer Anika when I poked my head in to see what was going on. Next I crossed to road to see what Jeff and wexer April were up to. They had removed the temporary roof sitting upon his growing earth bag dwelling and were discussing plans for building up the dome. Further down the hill I stopped in on Ted as he prepared posts for the walls on Jan’s new house. Finally, I turned south, crossed the holler, and made my way back up West Road to see Liat and Ziggy up on his cob house making roof adjustments. Whew! And that doesn’t even touch on all the garden work happening here in the village.
Another big change that has occurred over the last several years is the number of children at Dancing Rabbit. They add a familiar energy. As I sit here typing away I look across the courtyard and hear young Duncan humming a tune, consumed by some unidentified something in a patch of grass, then by an interesting piece of bark on the old Elm tree, then by a … Zoom, there goes Jibran, barefoot and hightailing it down the mulch path apparently indifferent to the occasional mud filled obstacle. Next comes little Zane across the courtyard. He’s not quite two years old yet and most everything is still brand new to him. Maybe he has something to teach me. His mother Alyssa follows along as he ventures down the lane. He has spotted a group of older calves across the road as they try to get at that tall, juicy, greener grass just out of reach on this side of the fence.
Each of these sights reminds me of my own childhood and especially springtime on my grandpa’s small farm. I remember being eager to be a part of whatever it was that grandpa was doing, but I was also plenty content spending hours tracking a line of ants, or examining the inner workings of some random brush pile.
All the building and garden activity satisfies that part of me that likes to learn new things and being able to contribute to a community like this that is dedicated to sharing a simpler, more sustainable way of being with the world makes me feel a part of something grand. It is the seeking out of that sustainable way of being that attracts me the most to places like Dancing Rabbit. I am reminded of the words of a draft horse farmer in Oregon I used to work with. “Brandon,” he said. “There’s a lot to learn and a lot to do and, well, life is just too short to fit everything in.” He paused to let me chew on that statement and then added. “Occasionally the best thing to do is to be.”
Through my visits here, I’ve found that Dancing Rabbit has more to offer than knowledge in natural building or organic gardening. This place has as much to teach about personal and community sustainability as it does about ecological sustainability. If I want to be reminded of that, all I have to do is sit and watch the kids for a while.
One thing that has certainly changed since that first visit to Dancing Rabbit in the spring of 2005 is the number of building projects going on here. I bet if I had a postage stamp for every board and timber cut on, every nail and screw driven, and every shovelful of dirt, gravel or mulch moved in the village this past week I could mail enough envelopes to wallpaper the inside of the Milkweed Mercantile. But what a shame that would be, having seen the amazing mosaic work Tamar has done there on the earthen plaster wall.
In the four years since my introduction here to life in an ecovillage, I’ve watched Dancing Rabbit’s population more than double resulting in the aforementioned buzz of activity and its expanding village periphery. And I don’t remember there being near as much distinction in describing various village locales during those early visits. Gone are the days when it was sufficient to respond with an “over yonder” when inquiry was made about the location of this or that.
Let me see if I can illustrate. Several days ago, a walk across town offered up no less than nine concurrently active building projects. I spied Tim out by the circle drive prepping old barn siding for fabrication into tent platforms. A stop by the Mercantile yielding two, Thomas and Jacob doing plaster work inside while flooring for the porch went together on the outside. Next, I happened upon Papa Bear doing joinery woodwork for the Timberframe addition. Meanwhile, Cynder, Jennifer, and Owen, a work exchanger (“wexer”), were moving wheelbarrow loads of gravel here and there as part of the preparation for raising the bents (assembled portions of the post and beam framework).
Then I went across the ultimate field to the new neighborhood. I first encountered Tony and Skyhouse wexer Jonathan assembling solar panel racking for Ma’ikwe. She now has a big Army tent on her site and was breaking out building materials with wexer Anika when I poked my head in to see what was going on. Next I crossed to road to see what Jeff and wexer April were up to. They had removed the temporary roof sitting upon his growing earth bag dwelling and were discussing plans for building up the dome. Further down the hill I stopped in on Ted as he prepared posts for the walls on Jan’s new house. Finally, I turned south, crossed the holler, and made my way back up West Road to see Liat and Ziggy up on his cob house making roof adjustments. Whew! And that doesn’t even touch on all the garden work happening here in the village.
Another big change that has occurred over the last several years is the number of children at Dancing Rabbit. They add a familiar energy. As I sit here typing away I look across the courtyard and hear young Duncan humming a tune, consumed by some unidentified something in a patch of grass, then by an interesting piece of bark on the old Elm tree, then by a … Zoom, there goes Jibran, barefoot and hightailing it down the mulch path apparently indifferent to the occasional mud filled obstacle. Next comes little Zane across the courtyard. He’s not quite two years old yet and most everything is still brand new to him. Maybe he has something to teach me. His mother Alyssa follows along as he ventures down the lane. He has spotted a group of older calves across the road as they try to get at that tall, juicy, greener grass just out of reach on this side of the fence.
Each of these sights reminds me of my own childhood and especially springtime on my grandpa’s small farm. I remember being eager to be a part of whatever it was that grandpa was doing, but I was also plenty content spending hours tracking a line of ants, or examining the inner workings of some random brush pile.
All the building and garden activity satisfies that part of me that likes to learn new things and being able to contribute to a community like this that is dedicated to sharing a simpler, more sustainable way of being with the world makes me feel a part of something grand. It is the seeking out of that sustainable way of being that attracts me the most to places like Dancing Rabbit. I am reminded of the words of a draft horse farmer in Oregon I used to work with. “Brandon,” he said. “There’s a lot to learn and a lot to do and, well, life is just too short to fit everything in.” He paused to let me chew on that statement and then added. “Occasionally the best thing to do is to be.”
Through my visits here, I’ve found that Dancing Rabbit has more to offer than knowledge in natural building or organic gardening. This place has as much to teach about personal and community sustainability as it does about ecological sustainability. If I want to be reminded of that, all I have to do is sit and watch the kids for a while.