This evening, there was a community dinner at the front of the village. This is a ritual like our weekly potlucks, which go year-round, but less frequently, and without the stress of preparing and transporting large dishes; just eat the dinner you were going to have, but together. It is a lovely opportunity to catch up with those in a different eating scene, hear from community friends, partake in a jam session, and rest easy, knowing that everybody is responsible for their own dishes. It’s a real “be there or be square” event.
Hello dear reader, Kenny here with more autobiographical pining, this time about how I chose the square life, and skipped community dinner this time.
The sun is so low in the sky, it’s throwing intense reds and yellows across the whole western horizon. To the east, foggy stars are beginning to emerge. The shrill, haunting echoes of coyotes carry from the south, and through my open window; a shrill, droning bass line to the sleepy treble birdsong of the maturing spring evening.
Listening to this rural Midwestern symphony, I can’t help but wonder if these are the same coyotes I hear most evenings. Surely they are, but in my mind up to now, they’ve just been “coyotes.” Imagining the unseen structures that have influenced their pack to be in earshot, how their voices bring more voices, until their collective howl can reach my window, gives me immense pause.
These aren’t just wild animals, they’re community neighbors. The spring has brought new pups, new howlers, and every day they will live lives that are meaningful to me, as a fan of their music if nothing else. We listeners are all influenced by the consensus of the coyote’s community.
My neighbors have become so real to me, and as I learn to live in community with them, instead of being independent from them, the unseen structures in their lives can sometimes become knowable, and are more ready candidates for genuine empathy. I’m speaking less about coyotes now, and more about subcommunities.
There are many ways to subsect the groups at DR, and it is impossible to detail the deep degrees by which they influence each other. There are different cooperative kitchens, individual work sites, multiple wexing projects, volunteer groups, and gardens, most of which exist outside the realm of explicit village “decisions.” There is a meaningful intergenerational aspect to this community as kids, teens, adults, and seniors commingle and find friendship. There is a diverse presence of queer villagers, aiding in the collective understanding of intersectionality. There are farmers and builders and educators and maintainers and cooks and parents and so many others, and of course these groups can all overlap.
But what does the group have in common? What makes these “Rabbits” a whole group? Our covenants bring some agreement, and group held values are acknowledged, but both are living documents, subject to constant scrutiny and reinterpretation by the community; things to be agreed upon. I believe that the thing that ties us together here is a collective understanding that things can be better, and a desire to live that dream (more like Dreaming Rabbit, am I right).
As some of the unseen structures become tangible, my neighbors become known, and the group strives for better, esprit de corps glows bright in my chest. I am filled with joy and appreciation for my great fortune, and that I am able to submit myself to it. I may allow myself to become part of this complex and ever-changing flow of influences that entails living within this community. I am joyous that it is here and that I am here in it. Things can be better, the dream can work.
As my time at Dreaming Rabbit becomes measurable in years, I am reflecting more on what it took to accomplish. I would love to say it took elbow grease and a can-do attitude, but that would be dishonest. In truth, it took a lot of surrender and hope that things could be better. And realizing that joy can only come when I’m really offering myself, not what I expect other people will want of me.
It took time being within this community as my queer self, as my disabled self, as my socially anxious and sometimes depressed self, to bring my best self. Letting all those things I held so tightly and so quietly slowly emerge, it gave me the Kenny that I get to share with the village. Turns out people appreciate honesty (who knew?). Things are better.
I want to be there, I want to see what dinners the people here whom I love are eating, what foraged goodness and fresh bread is on people’s plates, I want to hear stories about their days and watch these groups, so influential and meaningful in my life, meld together into whatever Dreaming Rabbit is tonight. AND I am glad I stayed home.
The goslings and I were all simply pooped from all the sunshine and friends that the day had already brought. We bet on a better tomorrow by treating ourselves better tonight. We enjoyed a quiet dinner at home, had tea, and read stories until the echoes of familiar laughs and the twang of a not-too-distant banjo turned into the song of our wild canine neighbors.
Final note: This investment in a better tomorrow was a wise one, as my membership celebration a few days later was boisterously celebrated with a special potluck dish, and somewhere around two dozen confetti-crammed cascarones ceremoniously cracked over my head. Glad I had a full social battery for that one!
Kenny Dane is now a full member of the DR “fluffle.” Congratulations, Kenny! We are so glad you are here!