One habit as a former teacher that I don’t ever plan to let go of is telling the same jokes over and over (no matter if people laugh or not). Over the past few weeks, I’ve been joking that our annual community Retreat should be called something like “advance,” or “intensive,” or just “lots of meetings and long days.”
Christina, here, writing about the joys and perils of spending two long weekends in meetings, workshops, and plenty of fun connecting activities.
Our first weekend started on Thursday night with a taco potluck. I just love a meal that I can eat out of a bowl, where everything “matches” and nothing feels out of place. And so piling up some beans, rice, hot sauce, and chips was a great way for me to start the yearly Retreat.
After dinner, we had state-of-the-village presentations, where different groups and committees report on what they’ve been up to for the past year or so. It was a long night, but it’s always nice to learn more about what people have been doing. Slideshows with cute animal pictures or funny rabbit memes (since we call ourselves Rabbits here at Dancing Rabbit) are basically required at this point.
The next morning, as an opening activity, after we had established who would be providing the all-important snacks, we filled out our Retreat bingo card. Remember how I mentioned that once I get stuck on a joke (or maybe it’s a “bit” at this point?) I love to say it over and over? I’ve been joking for years that we should do a Retreat bingo card since we inevitably say the same things year after year. So we filled out our own bingo cards with words or phrases that we thought would come up in meetings or conversations (“cottage industry,” “community garden,” or “holding space” were on my card) and with things that we thought might happen during Retreat (“a child wanders into a meeting,” “three people cry at the same time,” or “someone serves undercooked beans”).
These bingo cards served as a great lightener of the mood on more than one occasion, but they also point to what is probably the biggest complaint about Retreat.
For people who don’t love Retreat, their main issue is usually something along the lines of the following statement: “We talk about the same things every year, but we don’t get anything done!” This is the reason why I can put “kiosk” on my bingo card; I know it will come up year after year because it hasn’t been built in my ten years at DR. And it’s true that every year we get big ideas and excitement that doesn’t always pan out later in the year, as things get busy.
Of course, the choice to use words like “never” or “always” to describe a whole community of people points more to the speaker’s strong emotions on the topic than they do to accuracy. We do sometimes get some things done that we talk about in Retreat!
On the other hand, I think it’s helpful to reframe the goal of Retreat. Is it to “get things done” or is it to share dreams and ideas and laughs and, yes, very likely three people crying at the same time? I always end Retreat excited about the year to come, surprised by a new connection with someone in the village, and ready to get outside and stop sitting in meetings for a while.
As I write this post, we have finished the first weekend. We talked about our ecological covenants and how we might adjust them to serve us and our goals better; we learned about trauma-informed relating and what it feels like in our bodies to say no, yes, and maybe. We talked about pets, again. We also spent some time looking over all of the roles and responsibilities in the village, with the goal of filling holes and making sure that everything gets done that needs to.
But it wasn’t all work and meetings! We also had a “No-Talent” show on Saturday night (no act too untalented for the stage) and had deep checkin-ins on Sunday afternoon. On paper, checkins are just people taking turns and talking about their lives for a few minutes each, but in practice, spending as much as five minutes talking about how things really are while everyone in the room pays attention and doesn’t interrupt can be incredibly powerful. I was unfortunately home sick this year for the check-ins, but I bet I could have checked off the “three people cry at the same time” square on my bingo card if I had been there.
I’m going to go to the Common House later today to spiff and tidy the meeting room and prepare for OST (Open Space Technology). OST is basically three days in which people can propose a meeting or time slot to talk about something, or do a project, or jump in the cold pond. It’s a bit chaotic, you never know what to expect, and I kind of love it even more than the more “normal” first half of Retreat.
I’m pretty sure that in those OST sessions we will talk about how to grow more food, ways in which we can host visitors to the village without burning ourselves out in the process, or ways in which we can help people to support themselves financially in our rural economy. I will likely get to cross off a few more boxes on my bingo card.
We might solve some problems, or we might not solve those issues and end up talking about them all again next year. I know I’ll leave feeling hopeful and connected, glad to be wrestling with these questions alongside the people around me, and ready to get my hands back in the garden we keep talking about.
Christina Lovdal-Gil is a regular contributing writer to this newsletter, and overall instigator for social events in the village.