A Rabbit Story

A few weeks ago I got to participate in a drumming and story circle with a Shoshone elder. This man, living on cooperatively owned land, gave me a tour of their projects: a totally solar bathroom, harnessing the creek water for garden irrigation and as a future power source, greenhouses and outside plots growing all their food. The rough-hewn, high ceiling lodge where we met felt beautifully placed and open to the surrounding, natural world. I sat on the couch scanning the posters, books and videos. The presence of a DVD player and a computer didn't correspond to my image of old world timelessness, but this did not really detract from the experience. I continued sitting quietly, and the huge ceremonial drum, placed at the center of the room, called out to me.

Wake up and listen!

I am an impatient soul, yearning to have my wisdom given in huge bites, but I discerned that, on this day, the clock had been stilled and I would have to let go. Scattered, small conversations about movies and technology, reasons for people's absences, the introduction of the elder's new companion from Germany and his recent European adventures flowed across the room. Brought here by a dear, Native friend, she bantered and joked while I continued to observe and tamp down my restlessness.

Wake up!

Without “beginning” in the traditional term of the word, I realized after several spoken sentences, that the elder was telling this Sunday's story.

Live without expectations!

I had expected a tale but what I got was a truth. Capturing a long ago personal, historic moment, the elder began remembering the time when as a child with his parents and other Native tribal members they decided to purchase their own Nevada land.

Slow down!

Disgusted with modern world's fast paced, oblivious, destructive nature, this tribe's vision was to try and live on Mother Earth in the older ways. The more I tuned into this elder's words, the more I realized he could easily be speaking about today's America. The elder's voice wove in and out as he described how a seemingly waterless land chose them, how they built structures and gardens, how they hauled in animals and eventually found water, fertility and abundance.

Question old ways!

The key to this story's treasure, however, were the rabbits. Previously, the tribe had raised hundreds of rabbits all kept in gigantic cages. Transporting these rabbits to the land was no easy feat, and once the farm was set up, the tribal members started questioning their own old ways. Why are the sheep free and the rabbits contained? Why is a desert landscape thought to be arid and dry and impotent? And perhaps the biggest question of them all: Is success connected to the amount of money and material goods accumulated or is there something buried beneath these cravings that needs sprouting?

Overcome habits before change can happen!

The tribe opened the rabbit cages, and at first the rabbits didn't move. How often are we bound by habit and live unawares? But slowly, the rabbits ventured forth and claimed their free place on the land. The elder's story threaded his wisdom into a colorful weaving: This Nevada experiment flourished for through the tribe's hard work a plenitude of food, meat, water and shelter and a plenitude of earthly care and human love were created.

Honor tradition and when necessary break with tradition!

As the story ended, my thoughts wandered to my own family's rabbit story. Our daughter's preschool rabbits had babies and we brought a black and white one home. We named her Licorice and at first we had her in a cage. As we couldn't stand curbing Licorice's freedom, we broke with pet tradition and set her free in our side garden. Creating a fence between Licorice and our dog, Lacey, we watched as Licorice slowly adapted her habitat to rabbit country. Burrows were dug under the deck, grass was munched and her wildness added frisky stubbornness to her character.

For the first few years of her life we brought Licorice inside to our laundry room every night. Then, especially in the summer, she refused to be herded inside. We called it bunny hockey: we used a broom and all three of us tried to escort her to the laundry room. Unfortunately, it soon became easier in the warm weather to allow her to remain outside. I say unfortunately, because she died a violent death via a visiting, opportunistic raccoon. My daughter wept deeply and we wondered why Licorice was unable to escape to her burrow. But we told ourselves she lived a more natural rabbit's life.

What this Native elder's story tells, as does our Licorice story, is that we have to be willing to try something new, no matter how ingrained we might be in old traditional methods. Sometimes these new ways added to honoring the old ways bring fulfillment as with the Natives' abundant crops and animal production; sometimes in breaking with tradition the fulfillment is a matter of perspective as with our dear Licorice living a shorter but happier wild rabbit's life.

Give gratitude!

I smiled inside as the elder and the circle members whispered “Ho!” I bowed in gratitude to the elder, feeling blessed by his insightful story. Then I leaned in towards the ceremonial drum and whispered my thank you.

© 2012