Do you obsess over the perfect bowl? Liz here, with a rambling tale of how a favorite bowl of mine took a trip around the village.
It started with setting up my first kitchen as an adult at the age of 26, when I moved in with my now ex-partner, in Oakland, California in the late eighties. Each choice of bowl, cup and silverware felt significant. I wanted to build my adult life with intention, beauty and integrity. New chapter, new life. Looking back, I realize that things tend to stay the way you set them up, until a new chapter presents itself. That’s where my attachment to perfect bowls started.
A lot of the people who come to visit Dancing Rabbit are at a crossroads in their lives. Our village demonstrates some creative ideas about how life can be lived differently, and visitors are fascinated with how a group of people have been able to cooperate enough to actually live that life. Some decide to join us, some take ideas back home to integrate into their lives. Some realize that the DR way of life is not for them. Everyone comes with a preconceived idea of who we are, and leaves with an adjusted picture.
When I initially moved to DR in 2017, I had to prioritize what would fit in my car for the drive from California. I mostly brought momentos and things I needed to set up my acupuncture practice. I had to pare down my possessions from a family house to fit a small cottage. I decided to buy one bowl, one plate, one mug and one set of silverware once I got to DR (and yes, this took a while). It was, after all, a new chapter, a new life.
So, years later, when I sat down next to Cob at a community dinner and saw his red ceramic bowl, I was instantly envious and covetous. It was several shades deeper red than fire engine red and the perfect size for ramen (larger than a cereal bowl). I forced myself through some chitchat before asking him where he got his bowl. The next day was gym day and I bought the same bowl from the bargain store where Cob bought his. As often happens in community life, we influence each other. My gym buddy, Christina, decided to buy a whole set of the red bowls.
About a year after I bought the red bowl, I brought it to one of Christina’s pizza parties (pizzas cooked in a hand-built cob oven), and I unintentionally left the bowl at her house. And then I kept forgetting to go pick it up. And when I finally messaged Christina (months later) that I was coming over to pick it up, she told me that she thought it was part of her set and that she had taken the whole set to the DR free store. I was disappointed that my household had gone from two bowls to one, but I tried to maintain my perspective. It was just a bowl, after all. Right? I didn’t pursue tracking it down. I thought it would be good for me to let it go.
It’s been a little over a year since my bowl was unknowingly taken from the free store to a new home. Last weekend, Christina’s husband was at a community party celebrating the wedding of K* and Thomas, and was offered a red bowl, along with leftovers, to take home. As soon as Christina spotted it, she knew just what to do. With a huge grin on her face, she knocked on my door and held out a red bowl. Without hesitation, and with a smile to match hers, I took back my bowl.
Liz Hackney is the editor and a writer for this publication. Aside from perfect bowls, she also covets the perfect mug and plate. But that’s a story for another time.