Crisp winter wind nips at my nose as I take my usual route from my little cabin to SubHub in the morning, then to Ironweed kitchen for lunch, up to the Common House for CSCC correspondent work, then back home to lay a fire, and out again for dinner. All of this in icy contrast to the unseasonably warm week and a half we experienced prior to this cold spell. Has winter finally arrived? Honestly, in the Midwest, it’s difficult for me to say for sure.

Yep, it’s Prairie again, with a little update from Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

I find this time of year to be emotionally difficult for me. As the sun makes its annual journey into deeper and deeper darkness, my mind similarly wanders into the realm of introspection and personal reflection. I want to be cheery and bright, an embodiment of voluntary subscription to the cultural narrative of holidays and merrymaking. But as I dig beneath the surface of the societal script I was implored to perform, my heart seems to shrink by two Grinch-y sizes and thick green fur sprouts from my face!

Not quite! I am not a Jim Carey sort of Grinch, seething with resentment from childhood wounds of disconnection, isolation, and being “othered.” My Grinchiness feels like tightness in my chest and balled fists and heat in my face when I think about what really happened with the pilgrims in the 17th century. I woke up on November 24th feeling grumpy to say the least.

I am not opposed to gratitude and celebrating around a delicious meal—on the contrary, Thanksgiving at Dancing Rabbit is yet another way in which we come together and nourish our collective connections, something I value deeply. It is simply difficult for me to find my appetite when I know that Indigenous people were raped, enslaved, and slaughtered on this land by the colonizers that would teach their children and the children after that that Thanksgiving is a day to gorge, a day to relax, a day to be grateful, in an attempt to mask the brutal, bloody truth of our history.

So yeah, I was a little Grinchy this November. Don’t even get me started on Christmas capitalism and consumerism. That’s for another time.
Something I did feel grateful for was my younger sibling, Sam, and my mom visiting Dancing Rabbit for the last week of November! It was the first time the three of us had been together in three years.

Sam was 12 when we moved to DR in 2017 and I was 14. Fourteen! Now, Sam is about to turn 18 and I, 20. Oh, how time flies!
 

For the event in question, 15 or so Rabbits organized a potluck on Thanksgiving in the Common House courtyard on the cool but pleasant afternoon of the 24th, which was also Paula’s birthday! I had never had a cake on turkey day, much less a vegan and gluten-free, chocolate birthday cake. But it fit right in with the assortment of pumpkin pies and fresh whipped cream.

There were the usual fixings, of course: mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and cranberries. Marianthe even cooked up the last available turkey from Ben and Mae’s farm. And then the cultural DR additions: red lentils, roasted root vegetables, and vegan, gluten-free versions of the classics.

I ended the day with a music jam with Chad and Eric in the Common House, and then writer’s group in Skyhouse. All in all, a long, full day of complexities, contemplation, joy, creativity, and Grinchiness. I am trying to embody the “yes, and,” when it comes to American holidays: yes, I feel outraged about our history, and there is gratitude to be had too. Yes, I wish Thanksgiving was called, “Acknowledging Privilege Day,” or “Genocide Recognition Day,” and I can still enjoy gathering with my family and friends around a lovingly prepared meal.

The village seems to be hunkering down for the impending winter. I don’t see as many folks walking around the dry fallen leaves outdoors. The pond is serene and still, not frozen as of late with the warmer weather. The animals are getting closer to moving into the barn for the winter. Bessie just gave birth to a wonderful little boy, named Chimichanga.

All of the usual odds and ends are gathered up and set aside for next year. But I did, with the help of my partner, Nikki, manage to finish splitting my wood! I am incredibly grateful for the warmth that those dead trees will provide me with.

I know that holidays are a can of worms, and I am only scratching the surface. America, like the rest of the world, is complex and draws from many cultures, religions, and peoples. There is no easy way for me to talk about these things, but I believe that it is important to try anyway.
I hope you all can find the value in “yes, and,” while exploring what it means to be a human in modern America. It is a messy place, but one of great importance.

May whatever holidays you celebrate be full of treasured moments and constructive conversations. Happy winter, everyone!