“Freedom’s just another word…” (from the song, Bobby McGee by Kris Kristofferson).

What would you do if you were given the freedom to do whatever you wanted? I don’t mean, ‘What would you do if you won the lottery?’ because I feel that is not the same. When people imagine unimaginable riches the mind goes to Tahitian sunsets, yachts, Prada, and all of the “first world problems” that come along with it (which often end up being detrimental to those suddenly thrust into riches.) What I am really asking is: What would you DO if you could live however you wanted? BE whoever you wanted? Really think about it… if you had the freedom to live in any manner you chose, what would that look like to you? For me, my mind has always gone straight to sprawling land. The other details of my fantasy have varied over the years, mostly because I think of them as inconsequential compared to the necessity of the main ingredient. I just figured that as long as I had land I could do anything I wanted. Now my two-year-old son, Colt, and I have been blessed with 280 acres of freedom.

My first steps toward freedom were in my early 20s in the form of rebellion against “the system.” Fresh out of college I found myself in a position I had no business nor interest being in, but was convinced by the owner that I would excel at it. The first time I didn’t meet a goal he punished me by having me scrub toilets. Little did Napoleon know that I moonlighted as a bartender, so had scrubbed worse toilets. The co-owner of said company found out, pulled me aside to apologize for his partner’s behavior, confirmed my suspicions about some sadistic vibes, and advised that I should probably quit for my own sake. I found out the start up tanked a mere three months later.

At another job, the owner had “his girls” routinely rub his back. “His girls” HATED it. The first time he asked me to, I politely refused… and then all the other women who worked there started refusing as well. His wife, the majority owner, became my new best friend. At my first international company there was a “boys’ club” (need I say more?) that left early every Friday to golf, without inviting any women of the same rank (of which there were only two, of course) and everyone just laughed it off. I started leaving right after the boys’ club, informing my scandalized peers that I also had a golf game to get to.

Finally, I found myself in a Fortune 500 company. I shot right to the dizzying heights of regional manager at the relative top before I realized that I hated the destination even more than the journey. I abandoned corporate life and dedicated myself to more fulfilling jobs after that: teaching art to artists with developmental disabilities, selling and tailoring men’s formal wear, and the past few years driving a horse carriage through downtown St. Louis. These were all jobs that I truly loved, and since I made the switch I have always testified in favor of putting your energy toward something you love. When Colt made his debut onto this amazing planet I felt compelled to start searching for even more freedom: freedom for him to roam, freedom to be feral and freedom for me to parent how I wanted to–simply by experiencing life by each other’s side.

Since I’ve landed at Dancing Rabbit probably my biggest hurdle has been adjusting to the freedom. The first example I can think of was during Land Clean, which is a day where the whole community gets together and divides into crews to work on different beautification projects around the village. It’s “mandatory” but like everything in the consent-heavy culture here, it isn’t truly mandatory. I had asked where Colt and I could be most helpful. We were put on the task of weeding and cleaning up one of our main outdoor common-use spaces. I was still new and it was my first time meeting Brumby (also a horse-person) and I was thoroughly enjoying our conversation, but concurrently distracted by the thought that all of our chatting was negatively affecting my productivity. Wanting to put my best foot forward at this new place, I approached the person who was coordinating our task, the perpetually-sunny K*, about how many beds we needed to get through. I was trying to portion my time, preparing mental logistical mathematics about how much time and effort to delegate to each weed for the best ROI of my time. In response, K* looked up at me from their weeding squat and said through her trademark ear-to-ear grin, “I dunno, we’re just hangin’ out.” I immediately dropped my guard and relaxed. Suddenly, the work started feeling less like a job and more like… hanging out.

I wasn’t aware of consent culture until I got here, other than just the general definition of consent. No one is doing anything they don’t want to do here, ever. Even the children have a clear understanding of consent. When I was inviting one of the children, Ash, to Colt’s birthday party I phrased it as, “You HAVE to come!” He sincerely and sweetly responded, “Why do I HAVE to come?” I smiled and corrected myself, “You’re right, you don’t HAVE to come, but we would sure LOVE to have you there!”

Similarly, we are all given space to be our genuine selves. We can add ourselves to a personality matrix on a shared document where we can share our enneagram number, love language, ACES, etc. in order to better facilitate learning how to interact with each other. Even in common conversation it is very common here for people to be open about their current feelings, moods or preferred ways of communicating. In fact, it is a common polite consideration to open a conversation with, “Want to chat?” or “Is now a good time to talk?” to leave space for anyone enjoying a private or quiet moment to continue doing so. No need to request a mental health day here; it would almost be considered a ridiculous request since everyone only shows up when they have the mental bandwidth to do so. In fact, self-care is greatly celebrated and encouraged here. I feel like Rabbits may be so used to this that they take it for granted. This is definitely not to say that everyone gets along all the time but at least everyone knows each other’s quirks, beefs, moods, boundaries and tea. It may not always be pretty but at least it’s honest.

So with all this freedom and consent, what keeps me from perpetually procrastinating? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’m literally behind on eight different tasks as I type. This has become the perfect time in my life for me to learn to adapt to freedom at the same time that Colt is two years old. I can’t make him do anything the same way I can’t be made to do anything. Our motivation is merely the natural consequences of our action, which is so much more of an organic way of organizing our lives. For example, I have always thought of mowing my lawn as the most ridiculous and shallow form of conforming. The custom is a relic of the past stemming from humanity’s constant desire to feign wealth. As I’ve enjoyed watching the wild grass and flowers grow to hip-height I’ve begun to think about ticks and other pests. I plan on inquiring about the potential natural consequences of letting my greens grow so unruly now that it’ll be too late to use the mower and I’ll have to scythe, presumably. But I can do that tomorrow.

To be honest, de-programming from societal constraints and expectations has been a part of the struggle with newfound freedom since landing here. I am constantly comparing myself to some ambiguous impossible standards that are only in my own mind. This leads others to constantly remind me that what I am doing and how I am doing it is perfectly reasonable, which in turn makes me feel like I’m constantly fishing for compliments. While Dancing Rabbit’s main focus is ecological sustainability, there is also other forms of sustainability that are important here. According to one of our Lead Links, Connie Tao, personal sustainability is “developing systems for oneself to create health and happiness without needing constant external inputs (i.e. retail therapy, constant acknowledgement from others).”

That has been the great unexpected benefit of enjoying true personal freedom: once I quit trying to squeeze myself into a mold, I’ve become a mass of potential energy that is eager to grow into its own form.

Life is good.

Kelly Brandt is quickly becoming DR’s head cheerleader! It is such a joy seeing more kids and families settling at DR. Kelly is the house manager for the building we call Skyhouse, a multi-bedroom cooperative house and a regular writer for this newsletter.