On July 31, my last evening as Executive Director for CSCC, I went on a walk around the land with a friend. Perhaps due to the special occasion, it became a walk of reminiscence. Danielle here to let you in on part of what makes service so special at a place like Dancing Rabbit.
We set out from Crooked Rt, which was a wide mud path when I moved to Dancing Rabbit in 2012. At that time there were five houses on that road (two of them very recently completed) and one technicolor yurt. Six houses have been added in the past dozen years and some of them have changed ownership multiple times. A feline crossing the road wearing a fabric collar around its neck evoked memories of the years it took to formulate Dancing Rabbit’s Cat Policy. While we joke about it now, they were truly difficult meetings with strong feelings behind each viewpoint that strained community relationships for a time. We rambled on past Critter Kitchen, which is being rebuilt bigger and better since the destructive fire that had the whole village awake one chilly night in November 2021.
Our stroll took us down to the swimming pond, which was the product of some controversial group decisions circa 2006-2007. Whether or not to irrevocably change that much landscape and alter the natural habitat of birds and other non-human residents is not a question that Rabbits take lightly. The kingbirds, frogs, crayfish and resident pond snake are all part of a new “microbiome” that has sprung up there, in harmony with children learning to swim and people of all ages enjoying a break from the hot and humid Missouri summer.
Wild bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), also known as wild bergamot and wild oregano, is prominent along the paths this time of year, and plucking the spicy petals prompted me to recall Dennis Hoffarth. Dennis was passionate about bicycling, recycling, and the cycles of life and had a special knack for puns. He served on the board of directors and was a member of Dancing Rabbit from 2011 until his death on July 15th, 2016 – the same day the bee balm began blooming that year. When I walk past his burial site along the path toward Red Earth Farms I still give a spin to the artistic wooden bicycle wheel that Thomas designed as a substitute for Dennis’ headstone.
Further into our meander down memory lane we passed the labyrinth. “Remember Lucas, who created this in hopes of hosting events for veterans to reconnect with the land and heal their nervous systems here?” Yep. Lucas is no longer here, but I’m grateful to him every time I host a Women’s Retreat since the labyrinth is a felicitous setting for the earth initiation (as well as the perfect site for watching the sunrise on winter solstice). A few steps further along, a panoramic view of Dancing Rabbit’s acreage spanned out in front of us. We paused to breathe in the beauty of the dark clouds in the distance, the prairie in the foreground, and the total lack of concrete buildings and roads anywhere in sight.
We commented on the lack of lespedeza, an invasive species that was the cause of a series of contentious meetings related to our CRP land and its management a couple years ago. Surprisingly, the two of us actually noticed the sound of a horn from a train passing on the tracks a couple miles yonder. I call it surprising because after living here this long whole days go by where I don’t notice the train sounds at all, even though Scout says he has timed it and they pass routinely every 27 minutes. My fellow Rabbit pondered whether the sound subconsciously soothes him even when he doesn’t “notice” it, perhaps similar to the sound of peepers in the spring, cicadas in the summer, and birdsong when the days start to lengthen at the end of winter. All part of the backdrop of life in this quaint little hamlet.
The starlight fire circle was our next destination. This place holds almost too much history over my sojourn at Dancing Rabbit to try to compress into a paragraph. Originally cleared out to be a gathering site for Men’s Group, I hosted dozens of full moon fire circles there during my early Rabbit years. It was the location for the separation ceremony when my former partner Hassan and I chose to dissolve our partnership five years ago. Women’s circles, equinox rituals, and other day-out-of-time celebrations have been hosted there over the years.
And of course, it was the penultimate stop during Prairie’s 18th birthday scavenger hunt, where she performed for those in attendance the lyrical rhythm of a spoken word piece she had written during an earlier stop that very day, amidst a backdrop of bonfire and snow. I seem to recall that Prairie even leapt over the fire once or twice that night, but I’d have to consult with her on whether that’s an accurate memory. Fortunately she’ll be back here flexing her vocals as a song leader for Singing Rabbit in a month, so I can verify my conjecture with her then! The ultimate stop, for those wondering, was a handmade igloo/snow shelter constructed by Brumby and Jed. Prairie and I spent the night there in honor of her launch into the segment of life known as “adulthood.”
Dancing Rabbit is a place where the meaningfulness of transitions can be marked creatively in the company of neighbors and friends, with the land as our witness. Dancing Rabbit is a place that holds my memories; both through the fellow humans who were there at the time and the features of the natural world to which my memory attaches. In our country it’s more and more rare for a person to grow up, live out most of their days, and be laid to rest in the same general region where their parents and grandparents were interred in the earth. Modern cultural nomads are missing, I suspect, the vibrant way that land and human biographies become intertwined and remember each other in the way evidenced by my walkabout on my last evening as Executive Director.
While many of us have had the experience of returning to a place we haven’t been in a long time and memories flooding our awareness, there is something even richer available when you commit to a place and remain there despite storms, challenges, and seemingly intractable problems. When we take full responsibility for the health of the soil and those who inhabit it, the land becomes more like a family member.
I hope that those who were children when I moved here, and are now in their teenage and entering their college years, consider coming back at some point. My efforts leading the nonprofit for the last eight years have been driven by a hope to make the world better by bringing humans back into nourishing interconnection with the rest of the planet. Our lives are richer and happier when in connection with nature, and it would bring me great joy to see this village become a generational home where young rabbits learn about their grandparents from stories told about the landscape.
In the meantime, I humbly hope that my service in Dancing Rabbit’s nonprofit has had a positive influence. I’ve grown and learned so much in the roles I’ve held here, and feel exceedingly grateful to those who entrusted me with the director position eight years ago. May it be that my time has conjured reconnection for more humans – with themselves, with each other, and with our lush but malleable planet. And may such good works (and walks) of reconnection and remembrance continue….
Danielle is remaining at Dancing Rabbit and launching a career in the financial services industry while continuing to lead women’s retreats here. We are grateful for her contribution to the community, CSCC, and the mission of Dancing Rabbit. We’re cheering her on in what’s next!