Community at the End of the Block

Jean and Larry live two doors down from Susan and me, at the end of the block. They are close neighbors, and, more importantly, they are becoming close friends. 

Sunday they hosted a lovely midsummer afternoon gathering of long-term neighbors. There were four couples, all of whom (excepting me) have lived within easy walking distance of one another for decades. Sunday was just the latest opportunity to celebrate that camaraderie—over wine, cheese, and conversation on the back patio.

I am shining my light on that interlude because it is a manifestation of community and that remains a central focus of my life, even as I no longer live in the intentional variation. Over the years I've remained as dedicated to community living as ever, but I am less attached to any particular form of it. To be sure, I have my favorites (the quirky and often misunderstood world of income sharing, which has always worked well for me), yet they all count and I am loath to fall into the trap of getting righteous over structure.

At heart, the central challenge of community is social: the quality of relationships among the people who comprise it. And those relationships are no less genuine because you do or do not own property together. While it's true that certain arrangements of joint ownership are likely to afford members additional opportunities to share their lives in meaningful ways, there is no guarantee that they will do so, or that they will handle awkward moments well—which is the essential litmus test of community: when the stakes are high and members disagree, does that bring the community closer together or strain the relationships?

After living in intentional community in northeast Missouri for four decades that I'll always cherish, it has been humbling to be the new kid on the block among Susan's closest circle of neighborhood friends. (It is a marker of Susan's status in the group that the other six have been both cautious about my admittance (was I good enough for Susan?) and yet open to embracing me when I'd passed the bar—the first person to pass muster since Tony (Susan's husband and my good friend) died 12 years ago.

I have been relishing my role as rookie and supplicant in the informal (read undocumented) though no less sincere dance of assessment and acceptance. The group has carefully, gradually created something that they cherish and they are understandably deliberate about the circumstances under which they'll crack the door open. In a way, I have the opportunity to take what I have learned about community living and distill it down to an essence that can be accurately applied to this divergent set of conditions. 

It turns out that connections of substance are valued universally and the language of heartfelt caring exports easily. As a parallel I am reminded of what Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart had to say about hard-core pornography: I may have trouble defining it, but "I'll know it when I see it." I feel that way about genuine community—in contrast with what M Scott Peck styled "pseudo community" in A Different Drum.

As I look ahead to what the remainder of my life has in store for me as a cancer survivor, I intend to continue to till the fields of community. This honors both my years as a homesteader and my decades as a community builder. It is who I am. Fortunately, community is needed everywhere and thus one cannot make a mistake in location. There is work everywhere and I am hopeful of being able to continuing to travel to ply my craft. 

I await the results of my upcoming stem-cell transplant to see what success I'll have in curbing my multiple myeloma. If it goes well, I'll have the stamina and constitution to resume my career as a cooperative process consultant and teacher and that's my hope. Concurrently, it will mean that Susan and I will be able, in measures commensurate with our means, to indulge our fantasies to travel and enjoy parts of the world that have somehow escape our enjoyment to date. All and all, it's a pleasant target.

Meanwhile, it pleases me to have my spade in the ground only two doors down, gently working community soil that's already been well tilled.