Dancing Rabbit: Newsletter: Fall 2007

A few weeks ago I was having coffee (fair trade, organic, shade grown) with a visitor who had expressed interest in living at Dancing Rabbit. But then she said something that struck me as odd. "I might move to DR," she said, "but might move to Red Earth Farms instead, because DR is too restrictive." We talked more, and I realized that what to her seemed like institutional restrictions were instead individual choices made within the DR framework.

• Use no fossil fuels for powering vehicles, space-heating or -cooling, refrigeration, or domestic hot water.

• All gardening, landscaping and agriculture must be to OCIA organic standards.

• All lumber used in construction must be either reclaimed or sustainably harvested in our bioregion.

• Waste disposal systems shall reclaim organic and recyclable materials (i.e. compost).

If a person agrees to live by these covenants and is willing to deal constructively and respectfully with fellow Rabbits, he/she is pretty much welcome.

Within these six covenants there is enough room to drive a (bio-diesel powered) truck through. There are no "rules" about eating bio-regionally, about drinking soda, about eating food that is not organic. We don't have rules about using county water, choosing earthen over cement floors, how many children a family should or should not have.

We (usually) consider each other to be intelligent, if fallible, people. We trust each other to do our best, and work really hard to remember that we do not have to agree on details. What is important is that we are all working together to make Dancing Rabbit a success, and to live our lives the best way each of us knows how.

But oh, how we worry. To quote Janisse Ray, "My footprint is surely too large for me to enter the kingdom of sustainability heaven. If sustainable living is a continuum, from excessive waste to zero waste, then I too am not where I want to be on it." In her article in a recent issue of Orion Magazine, she continues:

"Are we committed enough to really make change? Are we part of being change, or are we just talking about change? Do we consider every decision we make? Do we analyze our own impact and work to decrease it, day by day? Do we continually strive to get by with less? Are we still living safely, properly? Are we unwilling to look different, to act different, to stand behind our beliefs even if we might be considered eccentric or even losers by the dominant culture? Are we granting ourselves exemptions? Do we justify harmful actions because we think we're already doing enough?"

I've watched Rabbits agonize over forgetting to bring a cloth shopping bag and having no other option but "paper or plastic," losing sight of all the good things that they do (and that this single plastic bag will be used and used and used until it is finally discarded, in tatters). I don't claim to have the answers — none of the Rabbits do. We have a lot of ideas, and opinions. We have a lot of unnecessary guilt, and spend a lot of time considering our options. We are often misunderstood.

A few weeks ago we had our annual open house. Along with the usual comments, interesting assumptions are innocently revealed. When a woman asked me, "Since you are all vegetarians, what do you feed your dogs?" I felt somewhat like the man who is asked by police, "When did you stop beating your wife?"

Ideas, theories, and ways of living that we take for granted in their everyday-ness often appear otherwise to non-Rabbits. Every time I venture outside of DR I despair at the waste, the lack of recycling, the glut of plastic water bottles and disposable everythings. Last Thanksgiving, I called a friend for a favorite holiday recipe. He breathlessly answered the phone and exclaimed, "I'm glad you caught me! We're just about to fly to Paris [from California] for the weekend so that I can get premier frequent flier status." In one fell swoop my friends had blithely used up all the resources I had been so carefully not using while living at Dancing Rabbit.

We Rabbits walk a fine line between being proselytizing zealots and conscientious examples of a lighter way to live. While every day brings more challenges and opportunities, it also brings more moments of self-doubt and recrimination.

As I get closer to opening the online portion of the Milkweed Mercantile, I am coming face to face with consumerism and the 'greening' of desire. I read 'green' magazines and they are filled with companies beseeching me to buy their eco wares. How did more get to be better in the environmental movement? Décor magazines have articles on 'green' remodeling, but never ask if it might be more sustainable not to tear out a perfectly good kitchen or bathroom. I get emails regarding 'green' franchises — sell, sell, sell! Does the world really need another logo shirt? How sustainable is organic wine if it is shipped from Chile and Australia, or if everyone buys a Prius but continues to drive alone? Or if, rather than wearing them out, we donate all of our old clothes and replace them with clothing made with organic cotton, bamboo or hemp?

The bottom line: do what you think is best. Follow your conscience. Expect to make mistakes. Be kind with yourself and with others.

In her book Anything We Love Can Be Saved, Alice Walker puts it much more succinctly than I am able:

"It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of our world.

"For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile. [It is futile to expect] anyone, including oneself, to be perfect. People who go about seeking to change the world, to diminish suffering, to demonstrate any kind of enlightenment, are often as flawed as anybody else. Sometimes more so. But it is the awareness of having faults, I think, and the knowledge that this links us to everyone on earth, that opens us to courage and compassion. It occurs to me often that many of those I deeply love are flawed. But it is their struggle with the flaw, surprisingly endearing, and the going on anyhow, that is part of what I cherish in them. All we own, at least for the short time we have it, is our life. With it we write what we come to know of the world."

So do your best. Don't beat yourself up, but don't stop striving to do better, either. Together, we'll leave small, seemingly insignificant stones of activism. We will continue to work, and to hope. And together, we will make a difference.

The March Hare: Fall 2007 Issue 54

Gaining Perspective