“It was pretty magical – something that I don’t think could happen anywhere else,” said resident Zach.
If you were invited to party in a total blackout, what would you expect would transpire? A wholesome candlelit evening of shelling beans, wooden board games, and singing Cat Stevens may not have been what anyone expected.
Nik here, typing by solar light.
After living at Dancing Rabbit for nearly five years, Katherine was missing something from the earlier days of fewer solar panels, wind turbines, and no backup power from the grid. Back when the weather had a direct correlation to power. Back when energy conservation was a need with immediate consequences in everyday life, there were power levels to let the community know how much power the Community Building’s battery bank had to give.
Bob would write the power level that day on a blackboard in the hall, depending on how cloudy and windy it was and how much juice was in the battery bank. Green meant “go”, full power: charge your electronics, watch that episode of “Lost”, get that electric razor out and shave the dog! Yellow meant conserve: use electricity midday when there is sufficient sun, but don’t stress out about it. Red meant stop, use electricity only for emergencies and essentials…not to watch “Lost” (the last episode wasn’t worth it anyway…). And then there was black.
Black meant total blackout. No power in the tank. So on Friday night, Katherine called for a blackout evening, to remind people, especially relatively new folks, that electricity was once a luxury and that they still had fun.
Carved pumpkins grinned soft light across the room, candles were on each table, and a candelabra sat proudly by the piano. We ate together, as we do weekly, for Friday community dinner, and then lingered to talk and play board games that didn’t require reading small type. In one corner a ukelele and guitar strummed out Cat Stevens’s “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out” with growing voices joining in the chorus. Whenever a big group of people come together, some smart and opportunistic Rabbit uses it to their advantage; this time it came in the form of a bowl of dried bean pods that everyone around a table sat shelling as they chatted.
The children seemed more relaxed, focused on the pumpkins, carving one with a spoon (knives in the darkness didn’t seem like a great idea), which actually worked great. That nostalgic smell of pumpkin guts and seeds wafted in the air as they happily eviscerated the gourd.
It was a magical evening, as Zach said, even though he and other new residents had to be convinced that an evening in the dark with absolutely no electricity would be worth attending.
“It’s a culture shift,” Katherine said. It’s something we take for granted, and it’s easier to not conserve power when we don’t see the immediate consequences for it. It’s like taking out a loan at high interest and not seeing how much will be paid in the long run. It’s like hearing about global climate change but not seeing its consequences until years of drought followed by years of being rained out. We are supremely privileged in what we have in this country, and yet it’s a culture shift to remain as responsible in times of plenty as in times of lean.
Yet, not everyone was excited to attend the blackout night. Some were not eager to relive the days in the dark. A long-time member mentioned that it stopped being fun after weeks of no power in the winter: “There comes a time when comfort is important in life.”
I held both of those views as I sang in the candlelight, and I felt supremely thankful. Thankful for what I had, and also for what I knew I didn’t need.
The night drew out past midnight. The last flickering pumpkin was decorated by cut-out stars, and they projected up across the ceiling like a planetarium. As the candles were finally blown out and the pumpkin seeds swept up, a lingering awareness followed me to bed. A light went on (in my head) knowing that conservation didn’t equal deprivation. The fact that so many people had one of the best nights in a long while shows that in the glow of our phones and screens we have been missing out on something lost.
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And in other news, our first ever webinar in the Dancing Rabbit Online Education Series happened last Thursday! The series continues this week, when long-time Dancing Rabbit residents (and amazing cooks) Sara Peters and Ted Sterling invite you into their kitchen for their class: “Creating a Carbon-Efficient Kitchen.” Check out the series’ promo video or more info here!
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Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and nonprofit outside Rutledge, in northeast Missouri, focused on demonstrating sustainable living possibilities. Find out more about us by visiting our website, reading our blog, or emailing us.