by Ted Sterling, Homo sapiens introspectivus
Walking
paths have always fascinated me. Where they come from, where they're going,
who made them- all a consistent source of interest when I'm out and about.
As an intern at DR in 2001, I was up on Skyhouse roof one day helping to lift their solar panels into position, and had an opportunity to look down at the paths created by daily foot traffic at Dancing Rabbit. One could see at a glance which parts of the village were most heavily traveled, which different points were well connected, and which paths only occasionally ventured upon. In a village such as this, where the physical and social infrastructure changes so significantly from year to year, watching the ways paths shift is a hobby that never grows old.
If only it were that easy to keep track of the shifting patterns of my inner existence as time passes. . . three years of life here has significantly altered my sense of self and my interactions with friends and family. Having finally settled myself in one place after years of traveling, I've found myself challenged to observe how other people work, how I work, and how the two differ.
When you travel lots, you carry everything you need with you, including your methods of facing the world and the people around you. The world around you changes every moment, so you generally hold on tightly to who you are for fear of getting lost
along the way. It isn't until you get home, unpack yourself, and stay put again for a while that you can examine aspects of that self against a steady backdrop.
Living in an ecovillage like ours feels like a combination of traveling and
staying put. The physical setting, though it changes gradually, is more or less
the same year-in year-out. Many of the people one sees each day stay the same.
On the other hand, there are the dozens of new people to meet-from our visitors,
residents, and new members to the various friends and family that come through
on a regular basis. The stable setting lets me feel comfortable challenging
myself on various fronts, and the sheer number of personalities and situations
I experience guarantees that I will indeed have to adjust my norms and expectations.
Overall, I find myself constantly receiving feedback that fine-tunes my ability to handle most situations that come my way. One significant alteration in my own approach is to say less, rather than more, when I feel strongly about topics. Once I
would have started into a discussion with a strongly worded statement of my opinion. Now I'm more likely to listen to the range of opinions present, observe the shape of the discussion, and then decide whether there's something I feel it important to add. I'm frequently surprised to find the group consensus not far from my own opinion.
Where once I assumed a combative, defensive stance leading up to a discussion I felt strongly about, now I leave room for the possibility of agreement and find myself more at peace. Even more important is the realization that the absence of my combative energy seems to reduce it in others, which means that we have to work less to convince each other of the appropriate consensus. In hindsight, I'm baffled by the former juxtaposition of my constant search for harmony among all parties with the energy I often brought to discussions, which surely made others uncomfortable and, in turn, generated disharmony.
In living with consensus, I have gained so much respect for the other viewpoints around me. The blindly conservative hand I've felt at work in our culture all my life left me with a tendency to assume that most of my beliefs would be poorly represented, and that vociferous expression of radical ideas was the only way to bring cultural norms closer to my beliefs. It took me some time to accept the comfort of living in a subset of American culture with which I was more closely aligned. Finally, I began to see how valuable the other beliefs (and abilities to communicate them) here were to my ability to argue my case in the wider society.
One more personal result of this shift is a much-improved ability to recognize my own shortcomings, and to not only admit them but to improve them. There's nothing more annoying than someone who believes they're never wrong, and nothing so disarming in a potential argument as the ability to admit another's good point.
Despite my newfound skills, there are still plenty of times that I'm grateful for other members of the community who are willing to step into difficult or uncomfortable situations, and let me melt into the woodwork. At the same time, that appreciation makes me more willing to take on responsibilities that I do feel able to handle.
Through cooperation and the diversity of capabilities inherent in a community like ours comes a profound strength-a web of support and skill that give me faith in the durability of Dancing Rabbit, in its ability to grow and change as our paths continue to shift.
Child's Play*
Levels of Closeness*
Ask a Rabbit*
Paths of Growth*
A Moving Story*
Nature Corner*
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