Stuff and Nonsense, 12/3/2012

Phew! What a week! Tereza here with all the Dancing Rabbit happenings… Well, maybe not so many, actually, because I spent the entire week utterly absorbed in moving from Bluestem (and sorting and packing and cleaning to get it ready for the person who is renting it this winter) to my new place, so I’m not too sure what else happened…

This week a new cistern was installed at Ironweed. Looks like they had plenty of supervision.
I do remember that one night four separate things were scheduled: two movie showings (fortunately in different locations), orchestra rehearsal, and a bonfire whose attendees thought and talked about how we can better care for our land. So much happening at once really marks our growth for me, since that simply wouldn’t have been possible when I first got here. I guess these kinds of trade-offs are inevitable as we grow: it’s great to think that we’re becoming more village-like, but it can also be hard to miss fun things.

There were quite a few comings and goings this week. I’ll only mention one in particular, which is that Garnet came back with his mother and her very cute dog. Unfortunately they’ll only be here for a few days to pack Garnet’s things before heading back to Vermont. He will be greatly missed, and we wish him well on his journey there and beyond.

What with all the traveling folk, and new folk arriving and old folk leaving, I got to thinking about a part of living here that I often choose to forget, which is the impact of having so many people entering and leaving our lives. Of course this happened when I wasn’t living at DR as well, but it has a much bigger impact here, where there’s a relatively small number of people, most of whom we see fairly regularly, so it can feel like a huge hole in our lives when only one person goes away. The benefit is getting to meet and get to know so many fabulous people, but the drawback is having to say goodbye so often. It leads to some interesting dynamics around getting to know one another when folks are new. I personally experience an expanding and contracting willingness to be really open to new people. Of course I always try to be welcoming and friendly, but it can be heart breaking to stay open and get close and then have to say goodbye over and over. Eventually, as each loss heals over some, I start to feel more open again, but I think it can be hard for new folk if too many longer-term folks are feeling protective in this way and don’t feel able to reach out as much. It’s another one of those things I never thought about before moving to community, and that I’m not sure how to address other than to notice it and make sure new people know it isn’t personal.

OK, back to this week. What else happened? I know there was blues dance class, men’s group and women’s circle, story sharing, song circle, potluck and community dinner, yoga and kickboxing classes, heaps of committee meetings, and Artist’s Way group. I didn’t actually go to most of those, though, because (have I mentioned this before?) I was moving to my new place. Which I love so much I am not even going to go there because I will just write so much about it (passive solar + awesome insulation = warm! window seat = nice comfy sunny spot! a closet = well, a closet. I haven’t had one in years!) ((See what I mean?)) that I might lose my spot in the writing rotation. Better change the subject, right quick!

One thing I thought a lot about this week was stuff. My new place (oops! I’ll stop, I promise!), named The Haven, is quite a bit smaller than my old one, so for weeks I’ve been working on downsizing. I’ve been asking what everyone who moves asks themselves: how did I end up with so much stuff?!? It’s sobering to think that compared to the average American I’m way below average in terms of the number of things I personally own.

We sometimes talk about the “consumer culture” that encourages us to buy and use and throw away many things, rather than to make or conserve or do without them. It’s something I think about a lot: do I need that thing, or just want it? If I need it, could I meet that need another way? If I do choose to buy, how much of my life energy am I willing to trade for that thing? Will the thing last? Can I fix it if it breaks? Who made it and how will my purchase impact their lives? Could I make it myself, or find someone nearby to make it for me? Could I borrow it instead of buying it, or go in on it with a number of people and share it? (I’m part of a push mower co-op at DR right now. Really, how many mowers does one neighborhood need?) With each decision, I want to aim for the “create” end of creator-consumer spectrum.

By day ninety gazillion of sorting through stuff I found it amusing to note how easy it became to chuck some previously precious item into the auction box. And here an important note on jargon: at Dancing Rabbit we have auctions fairly regularly, but they operate a little differently than in the outside world. I go to an event where lots of folks will be (weekly tri-community potluck is a good one, as is the regular Sunday meeting); hold the thing I wish to auction in the air; say “Auction!” and whoever says “I want that!” gets it. When more than one person wants it they usually get together and discuss it: “Oh, that shirt will look much better on you, you should take it.” “I was thinking of surprising [name of person who has been having a tough time] with this.” “Oh, do that!” No money changes hands, and it’s a fun way to pass on items you no longer want or need. Sometimes I’ll look around a room and realize that well over half the people there are wearing something I once owned.

Of course I had so much stuff to give away that instead of a monster auction I had a huge pile of “up for grabs” items in the middle of the floor pre-meeting. Once the meeting ended, the vultures descended, and I took the meager remains to where we store things that are waiting to go to the thrift shop. What a huge relief to no longer have so many things weighing me down! Heading into the holiday season I’m glad to have this opportunity to remember that stuff does not make me happy; it’s my connections with others that does. And while I’m grateful to be able to afford food and shelter and so many extra things, I am super grateful for my friends, family, and community mates. (Especially whoever took that shelving unit– I was dreading dragging that to the machine shed!)

Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and educational nonprofit in Rutledge, northeast Missouri, focused on sustainable living. Our free tours start up again in the spring. Meanwhile you can find more information at www.dancingrabbit.org, read our blog at blog.dancingrabbit.org, or give us a call at (660) 883-5511. You can also find us on facebook at www.facebook.com/DancingRabbitEcovillage.

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