Your piece moved me to tears. I identify with that inbetweener feeling; I’ve had it all my life. The sounds of the city in your piece raised my blood pressure within seconds, having lived in Berkeley for 25 years. Meeting so many different people who visit Dancing Rabbit each year, it seems that there are so many people, in the city and the country, who aren’t comfortable where they are. It is partly the times that we live in, where we realize more and more that none of us are immune from the changes in the planet and society that are taking place right now. I see you building a bridge between worlds, Rebecca, one 2x4 at a time, and I am thankful to be a part of it.
As I travel back and forth from job site to home, I feel that in betweener life. Leaving home last time broke my heart a little more than usual. The forest filled with fiery colored leaves, a small, silver turkey sitting on my lap with my coat draped over her to calm her shivers, these moments where the thought of returning to the dry prairies of Oklahoma brought tears to my eyes. With a sleepy little turk on my lap, eyes dozing while little coos escape her chest, where else do I belong? But here I am again in the wind swept plains, and I count the days until I travel back to the forest. My office slowly becomes a shrine to nature, a place where random workers stop in to sit a while, probably because it's the most greenery they've seen for months, fluorescent lights aren't allowed in there, and I usually have some kind of chillhop on low in the background. Let's all transport ourselves somewhere else together. Rest your soul a minute, I get it.
I love that you are bringing natural energy into fluorescent spaces.
People like you are angels! Creating little sanctuaries for people that need them. Wishing you rest and peace right where you are until you make your way back to your little corner of the forest with sleepy turkeys and fiery leaves.
Your piece moved me to tears. I identify with that inbetweener feeling; I’ve had it all my life. The sounds of the city in your piece raised my blood pressure within seconds, having lived in Berkeley for 25 years. Meeting so many different people who visit Dancing Rabbit each year, it seems that there are so many people, in the city and the country, who aren’t comfortable where they are. It is partly the times that we live in, where we realize more and more that none of us are immune from the changes in the planet and society that are taking place right now. I see you building a bridge between worlds, Rebecca, one 2x4 at a time, and I am thankful to be a part of it.
As I travel back and forth from job site to home, I feel that in betweener life. Leaving home last time broke my heart a little more than usual. The forest filled with fiery colored leaves, a small, silver turkey sitting on my lap with my coat draped over her to calm her shivers, these moments where the thought of returning to the dry prairies of Oklahoma brought tears to my eyes. With a sleepy little turk on my lap, eyes dozing while little coos escape her chest, where else do I belong? But here I am again in the wind swept plains, and I count the days until I travel back to the forest. My office slowly becomes a shrine to nature, a place where random workers stop in to sit a while, probably because it's the most greenery they've seen for months, fluorescent lights aren't allowed in there, and I usually have some kind of chillhop on low in the background. Let's all transport ourselves somewhere else together. Rest your soul a minute, I get it.
I love that you are bringing natural energy into fluorescent spaces.
People like you are angels! Creating little sanctuaries for people that need them. Wishing you rest and peace right where you are until you make your way back to your little corner of the forest with sleepy turkeys and fiery leaves.