Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage

A Home for Fire

The Webmaster — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 00:04:10 +0000

When I’m teaching a natural building workshop, folks sometimes ask me, “What’s the best way to build?”

It’s a good question, but a big one, and one that often opens more questions than it provides answers. Are we building for warmth in a cold climate? For protection against bears (or worse, nosy neighbors)? For congregating, with acoustics and dance surfaces considered? For play (even a sandbox benefits from a container)? But perhaps the biggest question: for whom are we building? Natural building excels at customization, and my house will look different than your house.

If we are to build a good home, let us first consider the creature we seek to foster. I’m leading a natural building workshop this August, but we will not build a home for me, nor for you, nor for any of the membership of Dancing Rabbit. It will be for a special friend of mine, someone present at Dancing Rabbit frequently, although not exactly my neighbor. We will build a home for a fiercely wild creature–fire.

Fire is magic. I love sleeping up on my living roof under the stars. I love seeing the waning rays of the sunset stretch past the layers of tree canopy until they land on the rye and vetch at my side. I love watching the glow of the fireflies as they emerge from the draw in the early summer haze. But these lights are surpassed by another light for me. I strike a match and hold it to my tinder of oak splinters, and the flames lick up inside their home of stacked bricks. This light floats from my rooftop garden to the stars above. This light contains the chaos of the universe. It is destruction, warmth, transformation, and power. And it is confined to a space I could hold in my hands.

Fire is resilience. Capitalism tries to sell us things, but sometimes the technology most appropriate for our lives isn’t purchased. Fire is effective, and it is within reach. I like traveling in my 1989 van. My aunt has a Winnebago. Her electric system went on the fritz, and she told me the lengths that she went to get it fixed, the thousands of dollars it cost her. “What was I going to do? I needed lights,” she said. My response: “Sounds like you need a candle.”

When traveling, I have a little propane single burner stove, and it’s wonderfully convenient. Unless I’m out of propane. So if I had to choose one cooking method, I’d leave the stove at home and pack the hatchet. I can’t think of many places where you can buy propane that you can’t find firewood, and all it takes is a couple of small branches to fry some potatoes. Many folks at Dancing Rabbit cook with gas (and electric), but I eat with the Critter Kitchen. We cook exclusively with fire (well, and sun). We can feed 10-15 mouths on two square meals a day on offcuts from construction projects, complemented by free scrap wood from the local furniture shop. It takes longer to cook (at least until you’re good with it), but it’s a great way to feed yourself. So long as you don’t mind the soot on your clothes–but hey, it’s a great way to hide the dirt.

Fire is community. When I burn wood in my kitchen on my cookfire, I am often connecting. Perhaps I am talking with my neighbor as I stir the pot and they cut the carrots. Or perhaps I am connecting with the wood I’m about to burn. I split it from an offcut of a rafter I screwed into place after debarking it with a drawknife, once I hauled it from the timber following my felling it as a tree. If there was a bird singing from that tree, I heard it. Fire brings out our vulnerabilities; consider all the stories you hear from friends and strangers around a campfire, and now consider those same stories being told under the hum of a fluorescent light. Or more likely, don’t consider that, because I’m not quite sure how you could.

Fire is the synthesis of fuel and heat and oxygen. It relies on all three, and without any of these things, it can’t happen. With all three, it transforms molecules into heat, light, and new molecules (and magic). It is death, and it is birth. It is analogous to community. We cannot be fire if we do not come together.

Fire is danger. Several years ago, the Critter Kitchen burned down. Every winter, we close the kitchen down and disperse to our homes, and on the last night of the season some folks were batch canning all the bounty from the garden. It was a good harvest, yielding dozens of jars of grub. One last fire. It was a long fire, and a hot one. They went home, but a smolder remained deep in the belly of the handcrafted stove. Four hours later, the kitchen was engulfed in flames. If you ever watch a building of yours burn, it will shake you. The blazing light burns your eyes while the heat melts your skin, and there is no drink of water that will quench your raw soul as you bear witness to the loss. No homes were affected, but the danger was not a thing of facts but a creature of emotion, wild and palpable and rampant. It is a curious thing to watch a building you constructed with sweat, blood, and love be utterly destroyed, and know that the stove you built was ultimately the source of that destruction. Sometimes, we forget that fire is not always confined to a space we can hold in our hands. Let us not forget this.

Despite the speed and strength of the local fire department, the building was destroyed. All of it was destroyed, anyway, except for one thing. The cob oven. Built from clay and sand, it remained stalwart and unaffected by the forces that rent the wood to ash and the metal to crumpled waves. Massive and unyielding, it was like an elephant after a rain.

But we have rebuilt the kitchen (and what a kitchen it is!). Between the damage from the firefighters’ hose blasts and incompatibility with the new kitchen’s design, we decided to dismantle the cob oven (it was a painful decision). And so now we need a new one. We need an oven to rise from the ashes and serve as testament to the resilience of community. I invite you to come and help us build it. Help us build a home for fire.

Alis Yoder has lived and built at Dancing Rabbit for 16 years. He enjoys building with many materials, but particularly enjoys clay for its versatility and companionship to fire. The cob oven workshop he is leading August 21-23* will examine fire appliances of all kinds, from rocket stoves to batch box heaters to the creation of the cob oven in the majestic rough and tumble Critter Kitchen. A deep examination of thermal properties of insulation and mass will attune students to one of the most misunderstood elements of natural building–heat transfer. Expect technical learning alongside applied technique. And fun. Expect fun.

*These are the correct dates for the 2026 Cob Oven Workshop. The last publication included the previous year’s dates by mistake. Find more up to date information here.

The post A Home for Fire first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Do It Anyways: A Dancing Rabbit Update

The Webmaster — Tue, 23 Jun 2026 00:28:57 +0000

As I look back on six years of being the editor of this little publication, and the years I’ve spent writing about my strawbale building project, one thing that has been consistent is the fresh perspective I get from people who are seeing my project for the first time.

Liz here, sharing my experiences of building a straw bale building in a rural ecovillage in Missouri.

It’s hard to describe the personal hurdles overcome, the losses, the wins, the disappointments, the moments of discouragement and the decision fatigue that have come with the seven-year journey that is my project. So mostly I don’t try. There is the satisfaction and joy of building things that keeps me coming back to it. But some questions from the latest natural building workshop students and the latest visitor program guests inspired me to describe some of the personal aspects to the project.

I read recently that fears pop up in our lives so they can be released. We think of fears as being immovable, but my experience is that different fears can be addressed differently. Some fears just need encouragement and support and maybe a physical presence from someone who supports you, who holds you accountable in a loving way as you walk your way through it. I have a memory of teaching a woman how to use a table saw for the first time, and the spontaneous gathering of other women working there around her, cheering her on as she cut her first board.

Some fears need a f—k it I’m doing this anyway mindset. I used this approach a lot at the beginning of my project because I didn’t have any experience to draw on. I did ask a few people whether they thought I should do it, but in the end it’s just you making the decision. In the end it was knowing myself and wanting to have this knowledge and experience and that taking the leap would provide me with that experience, and wouldn’t that be the coolest thing ever? It was also a controllable risk, where I could pull out at any point.

I often address my fears by addressing everything about it within my control and then reassessing to see if I can do whatever it is. Sometimes I’ll do something I’m afraid of because someone is standing right there and I don’t want to admit I’m afraid (a version of the f—k it, I’m doing it anyway approach). Coming out on the other side of a fear builds confidence and resilience; and sometimes reminding myself of that is what prompts me to put a fear aside.

Another aspect to the build for me was shifting from unconsciously being pulled into being who others thought I should be, to being who I actually am. As I move into older age, I test and confirm who I actually am. I do slip into being an older person, especially when others assume who I am and what I’m capable of based on stereotypes. But I end up rebelling against it, usually because being treated like a stereotype feels awful, and that’s my signal to test and confirm who I actually am. This last cycle of that was a doozy. It took a lot of effort to finally pull out of it.

There are many advantages to working alone, as I have decided to do this building season. Autonomy and sovereignty are high on my personal needs list, and working alone this season allows me to break the dynamic of the last seven years of teaching people how to do things while learning them myself for the first time, while being leaned on as a teacher and “decider,” while being assessed on the outcome as if I was a pro.

Working on my own, I can listen to music in my ear buds as I work, not needing to be available for interruption at a moment’s notice with questions from others. I can make decisions in my head, without the struggle to be patient and diplomatic while I field suggestions from others, even while I have most times already considered and decided against those suggestions (I do spend a considerable amount of waking hours thinking about building, compared to most people).

And sometimes there are drawbacks, as I experienced last week. I was putting decking boards on top of rafters for the patio roof, when, after nailing in a board, I realized I had trapped myself in a tiny space between rafters, with the ladder just far enough away that I couldn’t lower myself thru the tiny space to step onto the ladder. And yeah, for once, no one was around, even if they could help me. And that board was in for the ages, having been nailed in with a power tool called a framing nailer with an enthusiastic number of nails.

With the hot Missouri sun beating down on me, I sat on the bond beam eight feet in the air and contemplated solutions. Middle school gymnastic moves flashed in my head, along with a feeling in my gut from every time someone had implied or outright said that I was too old to be climbing ladders and working up high, or doing anything physically hard for that matter. It was a combo of a gymnastic move and confidence from strength training three times a week that got me out. I had a good chuckle over it, then returned to putting the next board up.

My answer to the question of how to make something happen in your life is this: go ahead and do that thing that really sparkles for you, that juicy idea that won’t leave you alone. Don’t focus on the outcome, or fear, or mistakes, and more on each next step. Move to an ecovillage, or raise goats, or start a business. Those personal qualities that you think you lack will emerge or develop in real time, as you go. And at regular intervals, look at where you’re going and the big picture so you can adjust. Like steering a boat into a slip.

Curious how to build your own backyard cob oven? Wondering how simple materials like clay, sand, and straw can turn into beautiful, functional, wood-fired ovens?

Join us August 15–17, 2025, at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage for a hands-on cob oven workshop with experienced natural builder Alis (Kyle) Yoder.

Over this immersive weekend, you’ll:

Gain confidence building with natural materials
Build a long-lasting, efficient oven dome
Learn how to apply natural plasters for protection and beauty
Get creative with mosaics and sculptural details
Collaborate with a supportive group of learners
Explore natural buildings at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage
Deepen your skills in sustainable, earth-friendly living

No experience is required—just bring your curiosity and a willingness to get your hands (and feet!) a little muddy.

Currently $100 off

Spots are limited — register now: https://www.dancingrabbit.org/natural-building-registration/

Or, click here to learn more

We hope to see you here!

Liz Hackney is the editor and a contributing writer for this publication. For a detailed look at her straw bale building project, go to: thehubcollective.substack.com.

The post Do It Anyways: A Dancing Rabbit Update first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Visiting Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage

The Webmaster — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 19:47:14 +0000

The following is a piece written by Jade, who visited Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage a year and a half ago. She was nice enough to write of her impressions during her two-week visitor program, and has since moved to DR and become a resident Rabbit.

We publish “testimonials” periodically, hoping it helps people imagine what it would be like to attend our life-changing visitor program. We hear from so many people on our publication e-list that want to come and visit us. Let this be your sign! Here’s what Jade had to say:

The Dancing Rabbit visitor program is very informative, hands on, and emotionally supportive. It’s very rich and full, with a “take breaks when you need to” culture.

Being at Dancing Rabbit is like being in a society, if society wasn’t toxic. It’s hard to describe in words and very much something that can only really be felt through living the experience. It can be confronting to participate in a micro culture that doesn’t exploit you and to then discover how many unhealthy patterns have been internalized.

Each day starts with check-ins, so there’s plenty of room to sit and be present with feelings that may come up. I left feeling inspired and hopeful that there is community around choosing a different path of life, one of creation, building and connection. I long for this myself and often feel that this path is an uphill battle. It was nice to move downstream for a bit.

Jade Grievink (36), is a single parent, psychologist, connector, entrepreneur, artist, poet, landlord, gardener, childcare professional, traveler, translator, activist and a bunch of other stuff.

The post Visiting Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Looking From the Outside In: A Dancing Rabbit Update

The Webmaster — Tue, 26 May 2026 01:03:59 +0000

Whenever I go somewhere else, it’s always a great opportunity to get a fresh view of life here at Dancing Rabbit. I think that I, as all humans do, often focus on what I’m doing wrong, on ways to improve things. And when I live with a small group of people who are also trying to do the best they can and who don’t have to work 50 hours a week to pay for rent, food and gas, then yeah, we can spend a lot of time just focusing on ways we are falling short.

Christina here, writing about superpowers, kryptonite, and how people keep leaving hair in the shower drain.

I was recently visiting a fairly different community of a similar size in terms of number of people that was very different in many other ways. I spent five days at a “care farm” in Northwest Wisconsin acting as a chaperone for my son’s visiting class. This community had a mixture of adults with intellectual disabilities who need more support and the other adults who support them, and the community grows enough food to feed almost 300 people. This means that while they have a similar number of people, they are a lot more united than we are when it comes to purpose and daily life.

One of the members asked me a question that I have been thinking about ever since. As we were weeding quackgrass from opposite sides of a bed of oregano and comparing our different experiences with different communities, she said, “What is the superpower of your community?” Then she added, “And the superpower is often the kryptonite.”

This was such a great question that I had to think for a day before I could even come up with an answer. I did ask her what her answer was for their community, and she said it’s their flexibility, which means their kryptonite is that things can be a bit chaotic.

As I mentioned, I think it’s hard to focus on what we’re doing well because it’s so much easier to notice the gaps and problems. But after thinking about it, I decided that for me, it’s the sharing and the willingness to experiment that are our superpowers.

Saying “sharing” while I was visiting a community that is literally income sharing felt a little embarrassing—obviously they do it so much better!—but there is something about sharing showers, a common house, garden, kitchens, and yes, cars, that both forces community and makes it very challenging at times. In fact, I personally don’t share a kitchen because I find it too hard to compromise on food (I want to eat as much sour cream as I want and also yes, there must be a pickled element to every meal).

Juggling car schedules, working in the garden when people don’t show up who said they would, and taking the hair out of the shower drain that’s definitely not mine—yeah, that all really stinks. But on the other hand, the conversations we have in shared car rides, knowing someone else is watering the new seedlings when I am away, or not having to actually scrub the shower myself every week—that’s all pretty great. It also means that we are using fewer resources and, most importantly, driving a lot less than we would otherwise.

Additionally, I have come to learn that I really prefer to spend time with people while we engage in an activity, such as talking while we weed, stack wood, or organize the free store. Sharing these things also really helps me to have a greater connection with my fellow communitarians.

The other superpower I settled on was our willingness to experiment. I think this is actually one that makes things confusing for visitors and even seems to have a rub with a lot of the original goals of the ecovillage. Whether we like it or not, it’s not “come visit our village where we have everything figured out and we will teach you how to save the earth and humanity,” but more “welcome to our ecovillage where we continue to make mistakes, sometimes the same ones over and over, but where we think we’ve learned lessons from our willingness to fail.”

I think visitors are often disappointed by that, and they often expect us to have things a lot more figured out and “right” than we do. I too, like pretty much all humans, think failing is awful and I would much prefer to never get anything wrong. But as we are trying to figure out ways to do things that are not the same as the “default world,” we are going to have to experiment. And experimenting means not always getting it right on the first, or even the third try.

I have yet another trip on the horizon, and I’m realizing that as much as I love the experience of travel, a big part of why I do it is because it helps me appreciate my own life more. I’m sitting in bed writing the first draft of this post in my notebook as the birds chirp and the rain falls in my garden. Why would I ever leave this place?

But I also know that I will definitely come home with a newfound appreciation for our superpowers and yes, our kryptonite as well.

Christina Lovdal-Gil is a regular contributing writer to this newsletter, and overall instigator for social events in the village.

Upcoming Event: Silvopasture Field Day. Curious about how trees, livestock, and forage connect? Join us Monday, June 8, from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM for an immersive look at multi-species pasturing and agroforestry design. This NRCS supported event is free and oriented to farmers, landowners and natural resource professionals, and includes a pasture tour, demonstrations, a light meal and refreshments, three free trees for attending farmers, and access to exclusive funding microgrants. Parking is at the main Dancing Rabbit entrance. Registration is required–sign up today at: https://knownandgrownstl.org/events/field-day-at-fox-holler-farmstead/ .

The post Looking From the Outside In: A Dancing Rabbit Update first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

A Sense of Place: A Dancing Rabbit Update

The Webmaster — Tue, 12 May 2026 00:12:47 +0000

In the spring I like to put the kettle on and leave the house with an empty porcelain teacup. I walk along the footpath until I reach a wooden bridge spanning a shallow draw often flooded with rain during this season. On the banks are a smattering of stinging nettle, the cantankerous European plant I have come to love as an allergy cure and spring tonic. The nettles are young enough that with a gentle touch I can harvest a few leaves from each without fear of being stung, even with my fingers bared to their long, waspish hairs. Nettle is like a crotchety person with a heart of gold. You have to play by her rules and respect her boundaries, but she will care for you if you’re brave enough to get close.

When my cup is half full, I walk back to my house and top it off with water that has boiled in my absence. The result is a vibrant green tea that tastes like freshly mowed lawn. As I sip it, I try to connect to what I am taking in: the sunshine, the soil, the rains. It is a small ritual of connection to place.

This is Emeshe by the way, and it’s funny to think about how the forest plants used to be anonymous to me; a nameless crowd of green. I was like a person at a party where I didn’t know anyone. Being a transplant from an arid climate, the lush foliage here was beautiful and captivating, but my appreciation for them was like the love you feel for the stranger on the subway; based more on aesthetics than substance. These days I am feeling that beginning to shift.

With my third spring in Missouri well under way, I feel I’m deepening friendships not just with the humans around me, but also with the other life forms that I see, smell, and hear each day. Just as I’ve come to know the history, quirks, and rhythms of my community mates (don’t talk to her before her morning coffee, he’s always forgetting his coat everywhere, etc.) I’ve started to know the history, quirks, and rhythms of the plants; which ones came from overseas and which are native, which are delicate and which are hardy, which are food and which are poisonous. Many members of this community have deep knowledge about the local plants and I am grateful for moments when they have taken the time to share their knowledge with me.

I often name the reason I moved to DR as a craving for depth over breadth. I wanted to know and be known, see and be seen. In a world where shallow connection is available everywhere, I wanted to know what it was like to have deeper roots and stronger foundations. What I didn’t realize was how that connection was not just about the human relationships I cherished, but also about the non-human relationships. The sea of green is becoming a landscape of familiar faces, a place of beings whose names I know and habits I understand, and I feel my community is growing beyond just the 50 or so people I share my life with. As the woods around my house fill in with leaves, and the garden begins to take off, I wonder which new plants I will get to meet this growing season and what they will teach me.

Emeshe Amade is co-leader of Dancing Rabbit’s nonprofit, the Center for Sustainable and Cooperative Culture. She is a regular contributing writer to this publication.

The post A Sense of Place: A Dancing Rabbit Update first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Time is Running Out: Help us Reach our Goal by Midnight!

Connie Tao — Thu, 07 May 2026 19:45:00 +0000

Give STL progress report: We’ve raised $1,210 out of our goal of $5,000, and we’ve only got until midnight to get there!

To make up the difference we need your help! Every dollar raised goes into our scholarship and sliding scale fund. This allows us to offer our Sustainable Living Visitor Program on a sliding scale, allowing participants to pay exactly what they are able to for what can be a powerful and life-changing experience. It will also allow us to provide scholarships to our programs on natural building and permaculture.

“One of the most nourishing experiences I’ve had in years. This program fulfilled deep needs for me that the outside world hadn’t been able to meet for most of my life.” –Erin Rosenfeld, 2021

“Communal sustainability is one thing to read and study, but the opportunity to live amidst it and speak to those who practice it every day is INVALUABLE.” –Kendall Dane 2024

Help us eliminate financial barriers to sustainable living by donating today, and give someone with the dream of a better future the tools to realize it. The first $2,000 in donations are fully matched!*

To maximize your impact, give during a Power Hour (listed in Central Standard Time):

3-4 pm
9-10 pm

Share this email with friends and family and encourage them to donate as well.

*Thanks to a donation from our longtime friends, Ed Pultz and Wendy Soderland!

In community,

Eric Mease
Villager // Land Steward // Development Lead

The post Time is Running Out: Help us Reach our Goal by Midnight! first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Today’s the Day: Make Regenerative Living Accessible

Connie Tao — Thu, 07 May 2026 13:30:00 +0000

“All of the ideas we have about living in a better way for us and the Earth are possible, and community is the way to do it. I learned so much and had so much fun and this program really changed my trajectory in ways I never expected. I really can’t recommend it enough.” –Juji Jamieson, visitor, 2021

Every year, we welcome over 100 people into our village. They come to share, learn, sing, build, and celebrate the beauty, struggle, and triumph of life lived in community; one which is striving for harmony with the natural and human worlds. As you know, this is a rare thing these days. Which is odd, given that, for many of our visitors, it feels so deeply right; like they’re finding something which is hard to believe we ever lost.

“You have to see the other side! There is a different, more meaningful and more fulfilling way to live.” –Jenna Sandry, 2024

Our mission is to bring this experience to as many people as possible; showing all who care to see that there is a different, more meaningful way to live. We also teach them the skills needed to bring this way of being into their own lives and communities, or give life at DR a shot. Our flagship program, the Sustainable Living Visitor Program, is a one to two-week comprehensive introduction to sustainable living and Dancing Rabbit. We offer this program on a sliding scale, allowing anyone to pay what they are able to. We offer additional scholarships to all of our programs. However, in order to maintain this level of openness, we need your support.

Today is Give STL and 100 percent of donations will be used to bolster financial accessibility to our programs through scholarships and our sliding scale. By making the experience of sustainable community living available to all who seek it, we are ensuring that those with a vision of a better world are given the tools to realize it. Our goal is to raise $5,000, and the first $2,000 will be fully matched!*

Ways to get involved:

Donate now and lend a hand to those on their journey to regenerative living.
- To maximize your impact, give during a Power Hour (listed in Central Standard Time):
  - 9-10 am
  - 12-1 pm
  - 3-4 pm
  - 9-10 pm

Share this email with friends and family and encourage them to donate as well.

*Thanks to a donation by our longtime friends, Ed Pultz and Wendy Soderland!

In community,

Eric Mease
Villager // Land Steward // Development Lead

The post Today’s the Day: Make Regenerative Living Accessible first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

The Many Paths to Dancing Rabbit

Connie Tao — Mon, 04 May 2026 22:32:27 +0000

There are many paths which lead to Dancing Rabbit. Mine began in college, when, through my studies in anthropology, I discovered the world of ecovillages. Eight years later I landed at DR for a six-month stint in the work exchange program. Having no outside job to return to and the desire and ability to do physical labor, it suited me well. It allowed me to steadily get a feel for life at DR while learning the ins and outs of running a small-scale regenerative dairy.

While this is a beautiful way to explore life at DR, it does not suit everyone. It requires a one-month commitment and 25 hours of physical labor per week. For many folks interested in exploring ecological community living, the Sustainable Living Visitor Program is the ticket. The one to two-week program offers a comprehensive introduction to all things Dancing Rabbit: sustainable community design and technologies, regenerative farming, conflict resolution, community governance, co-operative structures and, perhaps above all, the experience that a different, more meaningful way to live exists in 21st century America.

In a moment we’ll hear from someone who arrived last spring via the visitor program, and is now exploring life at Dancing Rabbit.

But first, Thursday, May 7 is Give STL. One hundred percent of donations will go into our scholarship and sliding scale fund, allowing anyone to attend our visitor program at whatever price they can afford. By making the experience of sustainable community living available to all who seek it, we are ensuring that those with a vision of a better world are given the tools to realize it. Our goal is to raise $5,000, and the first $2,000 will be fully matched!*

Ways to get involved:

Donate now and lend a hand to those on their journey to regenerative living.
Mark your calendar for May 7, and donate on the big day!
Share this email with friends and family and encourage them to donate as well.

*Thanks to our longtime friends, Ed Pultz and Wendy Soderland. We’re searching for more matching donations!

Now, let’s hear from Lindsey, a recent DR transplant, about how the visitor program played a role in her journey…

I participated in Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage’s visitor program and work exchange program, and I am now exploring residency. And while I have lived in several communities around the US over the past 20 years, I can honestly say, I have never experienced anything quite like Dancing Rabbit.

Most communities I have lived in or visited have been bonded together by mission statements that include elements of sustainable agriculture, experiential education, health and well-being, and/or resource and land stewardship. Typically, these missions have focused on a handful of projects or ventures that most, or all, residents participate in, and which are intended to support the community over time–physically and beyond.

At Dancing Rabbit, the mission of creating a sustainable society is both simple and expansive. What distinguishes it from my previous community experiences is the vastness and diversity of the projects fulfilling its mission. It’s a true village, in the sense that it is made up of individuals and families that have been invited to bring all of their passion projects and personal visions with them into their everyday lives.

As a matter of fact, the primary limitation I experienced in my two-week visit is that there could never be enough time to touch, or be touched by, the rainbow of projects and lifestyles alive at present–let alone all of the potential projects one’s imagination may conjure up, given the time and space for reverie!

And while this reflection may sound like a bit of a rave, I want to be clear: this village is not a getaway, or a retreat from real life–these folks are working hard to spin the fibers of a life rich in alternatives to the status quo. Residents are busy, and calendars are full.

So, what makes this pace and style of life diﬀerent? Well, in my humble and limited perspective, the answer to that question is palpable in the conversations with the folks that live there, and the glimmer in their eyes when they get to share what they are creating, and dreaming of creating, with all of us who take the time to visit. They may be “chopping wood and hauling water,” but this (literal and metaphorical) wood and water is directly in service to the quality of their lives, and the lives of their loved ones and neighbors.

There is something so refreshing about oﬀering one’s blood, sweat and tears into an ecosystem that directly supports and sustains itself, versus through the multiple degrees of separation our capitalistic systems have normalized for us all.

I highly recommend checking out the DR visitor program if you have interest in living in an intentional society that is “walking the walk,” or if you are seeking inspiration on creating alternatives to the systems that continually underserve and exhaust us all where you live. And if nothing else, come check out the program to simply be reminded that we can, and we will, create ways of being that are so much healthier and more fulfilling than those we are being sold.

Lindsey is a white and able-bodied woman, currently residing at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage, learning how to restore and steward the lands stolen from original Native inhabitants, including the Osage Nation and Illini and Ioway tribal people, among many others. She is always seeking practical beauty and aspires to excavate new layers of self, via the invaluable mirrors of both land and community. When not playing in the dirt, or swimming in lakes, she loves doing transformational circle work with women, reading by candlelight and learning new ways to move and be in her body.

If this is the kind of experience you think more people should have, please consider donating today, or by May 7.

In community,

Eric Mease
Villager // Land Steward // Development Lead

The post The Many Paths to Dancing Rabbit first appeared on Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.