Village of Light

I just spent a delightful 24 hours visiting Ananda Village in Nevada City CA, a well-established intentional community of more than 200 folks (counting kids) that started in 1969, and has been influenced throughout by the teachings and spiritual guidance of Donald Walters, who goes by the spiritual name Kriyananda, and is still plugging away at age 86.

While Ananda Village is the original residential enclave for Kriyananda followers, and has the largest population, their network has expanded over the years to include eight other residential communities (two in India, one in Italy, and five more in the US—all on the West Coast), with a combined population of about 1000, plus a hundred meditation and teaching centers distributed all over the world.

Though it's now well into the rainy season in Nevada City (they average about 50 inches annually, all of it coming in the eight-month stretch of October to May), my visit was blessed by magical weather: sunny skies and daytime temperatures well into the 60s. Kriyananda wrote a short book last year, Cities of Light, that offers an overview of his thinking about what intentional communities can accomplish in the new age, and it was easy to appreciate Ananda's light with everything bathed in sunshine.

[Cities of Light, the book, is not to be confused with Paris, the City of Light, nor with Cities of Light, the 2007 documentary film that explores the rise and fall of Islamic Spain in the first millennium after Christ.]

Of course, Kriyananda was using light as a metaphor. He was thinking of the way that communities can illuminate a better way to live—one that emphasizes personal integrity and operates from a place of higher purpose.

As someone who has been a community networker for more than 30 years, it's a bit embarrassing that it's taken me this long to visit such a well-known community, but better late than never. The main impetus for my visit is that FIC is casting about for a different venue in which to hold our Art of Community gathering in 2013 and Expanding Light—Ananda's conference/retreat facility—is our most promising option. As I was already on the West Coast to conduct a facilitation training, it was a relatively minor deal to shoehorn into my travel itinerary a stopover in Nevada City en route home (the California Zephyr stops in Colfax, which is less than an hour's drive from Ananda), to see their facilities first hand and to meet the people we'd be partnering with (email and skype will only get you so far).

What I experienced during my whirlwind stay was highly promising on an energetic level, yet we still need to see if we can make the numbers work. FIC loves to put on events, and we have a great Event Coordinator in Susan Frank, yet we can't do it if we lose money. Last September's Art of Community was an overwhelmingly positive experience for participants yet we finished $15,000 below water, so something has to shift.

In partnering with a living community interested in expanding its outreach activities, we are asking Ananda to accept that part of their compensation come in the form of delivering on their mission and the opportunity for its members to participate easily in an event that both showcases what they have to offer and makes available to them what's being learned in other communities. We think of it as cross-pollination, and they're interested in the concept.

The past two years FIC held Art of Community gatherings at Westminster Woods in Occidental CA. While we were happy with their facility and the quality of experience we were able to create there, we were just another client to them. With Ananda, we are hoping that what we feel comfortable committing to (in the way of compensation) is high enough that they'll feel fairly treated, where significant portions of what they receive in exchange are non-monetary benefits.

Because of the lead time needed for marketing and program development, FIC is committed to making a decision about this no later than mid-January (for an event next September). That gives us a month to sort it out. 

During my 24 hours on site, I was easily able to establish that Ananda would be a suitable partner in that they share FIC's ecumenical spirit and are wholly supportive of others sharing their wisdom about community living, not just Kriyananda devotees. Even better, there appears to be a good match with FIC's mission to make available the lessons of intentional community to those desiring a greater sense of community where they are. (We figure a lot more people want more connection, neighborliness, and civility in their life than are open to jointly owning property with others.)

In nine days we'll reach the winter solstice, when the length of night is longest. Even as the light slowly returns to the northern hemisphere, FIC and Ananda will be trying to figure out a way to combine energies and thereby become a brighter beacon for cooperative living than either of us can be shining alone. While the outcome has not yet been illuminated, it's a thoroughly agreeable task to explore the possibilities fro collaboration.

While it's understandably appealing to stand as close to the flame of right livelihood as possible, we need to keep in view the dual imperatives that we want no one to be burned, nor anyone blinded by the light. Whatever the outcome, I'm confident we'll all be fine.

Knee Jerk Reactions

Nine days ago I wrote about my bowling mishap [see Wounded Knee from Sept 12]—where I wrenched the bejesus out of my right knee and had an excruciating time negotiating two airports 18 hours after the injury, when the swelling and muscle pain were at their peak.

Today I'm happy to report that I'm much better. This blog features oddments about my nonlinear journey toward recovery.

o  When I first went down I was nauseous and broke out in a cold sweat. I knew right away that it was bad, but I had no frame of reference (excepting that I was in the fifth frame of my first game at the Red Rock Casino). My daughter, Jo, reported that I'd literally turned white. Not good.

o  After surviving the death marches to and from my departure and arrival gates (with carry-on luggage of course), I was thankfully collected at the Sacramento airport by Marty Maskall (one of my facilitation students). We rented a Smarte Carte (which was clearly a smart idea, even if they have a thing about extraneous e's) and it was definitely an improvement negotiating my way to Marty's car with the aid of a rolling walker.

o  By the time we got to Marty's house my knee was the size of a grapefruit, and I dreaded even the trip from the dining room table (where I was ensconced with my laptop) to the bathroom. I suddenly got very conscious about my liquid intake.

o  Amazingly, Marty had just received in that day's mail a pair of collapsible walking sticks from REI. She only wanted one but they wouldn't sell her less than two. Did I want one? Things were starting to look up.

o  Continuing the theme of Marty as Angel, it happened that her husband had recently had a double knee replacement and they had some potent surplus prescription sleep aids (codeine-based) in the medicine chest. Yeehah!  

o  During my 19 hours at Marty's I enjoyed the anti-swelling benefits of regular applications of ice packs, and then it was time for a three-hour drive to Boonvlle and the start of a weekend facilitation training at Emerald Earth. The car ride was no problem, but people were wondering who that hobbling old geezer was when I gingerly unfolded myself from the front passenger seat and tried to unlimber my stiff knee.

o  Fortunately, facilitation training is not aerobic, and the outright pain had diminished enough that I could pretty much ignore my disability while immersed in the training. It was only a challenge when I wanted a cup of coffee or needed to pee. (With the former I was touched by how many people were willing to help manifest java for me; with that latter I was the only one doing the touching and I was appropriately on my own.)

o  The main hurdle at Emerald Earth was walking to my sleeping cabin in the dark. While the path was mostly level, that's not the same as paved, and each minor dip or stray stick created a potential misadventure. Still, I got around and didn't go down. It just took longer.

o  After the training weekend ended (Sunday afternoon—five days post-injury) Sean (another of my facilitation students) drove me down to the East Bay where I holed up for three days with Susan Frank, Molly Reed, and Don Lambert (the core of the dynamic organizing team for FIC's Art of Community event happening this weekend) in a lovely house sitting situation in the Oakland Hills. The accommodations were plush, but the operative word in my location was "hills." The house featured many stories and lots of stairs. I tried to think of it as built-in physical therapy.

o  By Wednesday I was feeling frisky enough that I tried getting around without my walking stick. I figured that if I could stand it (literally) that the more work I made my right leg do, the quicker I'd heal by virtue of the increased blood flow—so long as I didn't overdo it and wind up with a puffier knee at night that I started with that morning.

o  When the day went fine, I felt frisky enough to attempt walking to a restaurant for dinner after relocating to Mariposa Grove for my final day in the East Bay. Mind you, walking the streets of Oakland and Berkeley is typically a recreational pastime for me—something I do for enjoyment when my legs are both fully functional. So I was aching to get out and recapture a taste of my old mobility. Pushing it, I walked to Kirala, one of my all-time favorite sushi restaurants at Shattuck & Ward. After a lovely repast, I limped home and was startled to learn that I'd asked my tender knee to go 2.4 miles. No wonder I was sore! I went to bed fervently hoping I hadn't machoed myself into a relapse.

o  In the morning (yesterday) I was relieved to find that my knee was better still. Hurray! In the first days after the injury it was brutal putting on my shoes and quite tricky getting in and out of a car. Now I'm semi-good at those ordinarily mundane tasks.  

Fortunately, I have a generally strong constitution and am a fast healer. It has helped me both physically and psychically that my knee is noticeably better every day. No matter how bad an injury is at its worst, there's a mood elevating quality to being on the way up. Thus, when people see me now (nine days into recovery) and wince at what I'm going through, I laugh and tell them this is nothing; they should have seen me three days ago.

Once in a Blue Moon

This morning (at 9:58 am if you're in the Eastern time zone, if you're keeping score at home) the moon will be full for the second time this month, making it the one and only blue moon of the year. There won't be another until 2015.

While it's definitely a rare event—whence the colloquial meaning of the phrase, "That happens only once in a blue moon"—there is also a whiff of mysticism about this phenomenon. Perhaps magic is a bit more likely today, or the veil between the temporal and spirit world is thinner, a la Halloween. It will be fun to see what unfolds.

A Moon by any Other Name
Native Americans developed monikers for full moons that became associated with natural events and conditions that obtained in the month that they appeared. Thus, the August full moon is known variously as:

—Sturgeon Moon, to mark when this large fish of the Great Lakes and other major bodies of water like Lake Champlain is most readily caught. 

—Red Moon, in honor of the countenance of Earth's satellite when observed rising through the sultry, humid haze of late summer.

—Green Corn Moon, as grains are ripening now.

—Heat Moon: as I recall from an obscure passage in William Trogdon's 1980's bestseller, Blue Highways, the August full moon also has this appellation, for which his father, imbued with part Osage blood, was named. His older brother was thus naturally called Little Heat Moon, and William, who grew up to be an English professor and author, adopted the nom de plume Least Heat Moon.

• • •

So what will today bring? I travel to Twin Oaks (Lousia VA) later this morning to participate in their annual Communities Conference, running through Monday. In addition to operating the conference bookstore and offering a handful of workshops, over the course of the weekend I'll get to visit with old friends and meet interesting people I don't know who share with me a hunger for community. There's always some magic in that.

Saturday night I'll play auctioneer for a benefit auction in support of the Fellowship for Intentional Community. It will be an occasion of high merriment (and hopefully high bids). 

As much fun as I'll have on stage, the part I like best is the space in the interstices of the schedule, where I can enjoy one-on-one chance conversations with the humanity that ebbs and flows by the bookstore, building relationships and trying to be an answer man for folks trying to manifest more community in their lives. There's definitely magic and restorative energy at community events where people gather in numbers to celebrate and learn from one another about cooperative living. 

I'm lucky that my opportunities to do this thing I love happen four or five times a year—much more frequently than blue moons.

In just three short weeks I'll get my next chance at this magic. I'll be at Westminster Woods outside Occidental CA where I'll immerse myself in the FIC's Art of Community event, Sept 21-23—to be followed immediately by a Social Change Summit at the same location, Sept 24-25. After that, I'll be at the annual NASCO Institute, Nov 2-4, in Ann Arbor MI. My cup runneth over.

It's interesting to reflect that in going from Twin Oaks to Westminster Woods to Ann Arbor that I'll not only be traversing three time zones (twice—once in each direction); I'll also be jouneying from Blue Moon to Autumnal Equinox to Samhain. By aligning these community events with traditional Earth religion holidays, we'll effectively be stringing together a necklace of transformers along a two-month power line. I can sense that the Force will be with us,… even if I leave my lightsaber at home. 

If you're in my vicinity on any of these occasions, I invite you to drop by the bookstore for some scintillating conversation.  

Strong Winds Possible

I'm in Occidental, California right now, in position to participate in the FIC's Art of Community gathering, which starts today and runs through Sunday. I just love community events, where the Fellowship junkies get to press the flesh with people eager to receive and share information about community living.

I figure a healthy organization should be obsessed with learning all it can about its constituency and nothing beats a community gathering for giving us a clear snapshot of our audience, where we come face to face with a representative sampling of the folks most interested in what we have to offer. People are happy to tell you what they want: all we have to do is be open and pay attention.

The winds of interest in community and sustainability are blowing more strongly every day in this country, and we intend to be flying some kites pretty high this weekend. If you are reading this in northern California and want to come play, it's not too late to join the party. Bring your own virtual kite, and we'll supply the string to get it aloft.

• • •

My inspiration for the title to today's blog was plagiarized from a roadside sign that Tony Sirna and I encountered on I-80 in Wyoming, outbound from Missouri. We drove a hair over 2000 miles (spread out over three days) to get here, schlepping about 20 boxes of books to create Community Bookshelf's presence at this weekend's event. En route, we encountered some interesting sights, and I thought it might be fun to offer up a kaleidoscopic slide show of some of some of the standout moments.

1. Strong Winds Possible
You have to wonder by what process the Wyoming Highway Dept decided they needed to post a sign with those words on it, indicating to drivers that the winds which are characteristically present in the High Plains may actually blow while you're driving. Duh.

"Mabel, I'm not sure our Winnebago can take much more of these gusts. I'm gonna write a letter to the goddamn highway people telling them they oughta warn people about this shit. It's dangerous!"

Never mind that it was never that bright an idea to be barreling along the highway at 75 mph in a box on wheels. Sigh. How much do you need to caution people that it's not a good idea to abandon common sense just because you're on the interstate?

2. Elko: Where Pasties Meet Pasties (or is it Meat Pasties?)
Elko is a wide spot in the road as you wend your way along I-80 from Utah to California. Though it has a population of less than 50,000, it's far and away the largest town in the northeast quadrant of Nevada, where there's little water and lots of land. Tony and I spent our second night there, and got to learn a bit more about it than you'd learn breezing through at 65 mph.

Perhaps uniquely in the United States, Elko features two Silver State staples: mining and casinos. In consequence—I doubt anyone intended this—there's an unusual opportunity for word play (which, if you know me, I hate to pass up). When you see "pasties" advertised in town, it could be either one!

The one I learned about first is the traditional Cornish meat and vegetable baked-in-a-dough-pocket delectable that's readily available in northern Minnesota and northern Michigan (because of the mining tradition). Sure enough, we passed a store advertising this savory miner's lunch item on our way out town. See my blog of June 27, 2010 (Catching the Ferry) for the last time I bumped into pasties of this variety.

The other version, of course, refers to something entirely different: a piece of adhesive costume that barely (so to speak) covers the nipples and aureolae of a woman's breasts, designed simultaneously to draw attention and to meet the minimal standards necessary to avoid charges of indecent exposure. You can bet that some appreciable fraction of the scantily clad show girls that are a regular feature of Elko casino floor shows are sporting pasties—and I'm not talking about dough pockets.

3. These Buds Are for You
Tony and I laughed about how we could have used Budweiser plants as directional guides for when to enter and exit I-80. Heading north on I-25 out of Loveland the second morning, we essentially followed the guidance "turn left onto the interstate right after you see the Budweiser plant on your left." (There is this monster you-can't-miss-it brewing plant just before leaving Colorado and entering Wyoming.)

Then, more than 1000 miles later, we took the advice "exit the interstate and turn right onto California 12 right after you see the next Budweiser plant on your left," this time in Fairfield CA. Kinda eerie how Budweiser goes wherever we go.

4. You're on the Left Coast Now
Mostly, when you cross a state line, the scenery is pretty much the same on both sides of the line, and so is the culture. Not so when you leave the Silver State and enter the Golden State. Shortly after cruising by Reno, we crossed into California and queued up for an agricultural inspection, where officials carefully check to make sure that out-of-state fruits and vegetables are not inadvertently carrying bugs or disease that might be harmful to California crops.

As we pulled up to the officer, his first question was where we were from. When we told him Missouri, he smiled and responded with, "Right on." Holy shit, we had fallen into a worm hole that dropped us into the 1960's. I had no idea anybody still talked that way. Welcome to the Hotel California.

5. Sleeping Wind Towers
It was heartening how many wind farms we passed along our route. Perhaps half a dozen. These were clusters of gentle giants: 200-foot towers, each with three 70-foot blades rotating sedately. Typically there would be 40-50 towers in an array. For reasons that were mysterious to us, the blades never seemed to all be turning at the same rate, and there always seem to be a few that weren't turning at all. Were they resting?

At one point there was a whole line of towers where none of the blades were turning. As we speculated about what might cause that (do they get sick together?), we noticed that one of the towers toward the end of that run was so tired that it had lain down. We wondered how long they needed to sleep like that before they had the energy to get up again, but didn't linger long enough to find out.

It'll just have to remain one of those anomalies of the road that will be investigated at a later date. Perhaps on the return drive next week, when we'll no doubt experience even more adventures in Americana.

60% Chance of Participation

Back in the fall of 1975, the second year we were at Sandhill Farm, Annie and I spent a couple weeks helping a local couple in their 70s (Jo Pearl & Eva Grover) harvest and process their sorghum crop. A big day for them—with our volunteer help—was seven gallons of finished syrup. (In contrast, 35 years later, we crank out about 75 gallons of syrup on an average cooking day at Sandhill.) Helping the Grovers that fall was how we first got interested in sorghum and we parlayed that modest beginning into our main agricultural cash crop.

One of the endearing things about Eva was her idiosyncratic tendency toward malapropisms. For example, when it looked like rain, she might report that, "There was a strong chance of participation." Though Eva was often saying something different than she meant, I am reminded tonight that even her accidents might come round to serve...

• • •

The Fellowship for Intentional Community is hosting an Art of Community Day in Chicago tomorrow at the main facilities of Jesus People USA at 920 W Wilson Ave on the north side. According to the forecast there's a 60% chance of rain. There's also a 60% chance that we'll have more than 30 people arriving with a hunger for how to get more community in their life. I live for such days.

(If you read this in time and are casting about for something interesting to do on a rainy day in the Windy City, there's room for you drop by at the last minute tomorrow and live with me.)

As far as I'm concerned, one of the most fun things that FIC does is host events, which are chances for participants to get both information and inspiration about community living. While we want people to be excited, we also want them to be realistic. Thus, we offer folks the nuts and bolts—as well as a taste of the guts and jolts. Community living offers tremendous possibilities for leveraging a better life, yet it also comes with large challenges for making it work well, and FIC makes a serious effort to deliver the molasses and the sulfur in appropriate measures.

In addition to offering my standard workshops on consensus and conflict, I get to do a new thing tomorrow: moderate a panel discussion on Generations, where we'll have two panelists in their 20s, two around 40 years old, and two north of 60. Each will have five minutes to talk about how they relate to community (emphasizing what they've learned looking backward and what they're wanting looking forward), and then we'll open it up to questions and comments from the audience. While six speakers means I'll have to keep a close eye on air time (there will be a 60% chance of people being reined in), I look forward to plying my craft as a facilitator to keep things moving along and on topic.

Part of the reason I love events is because it's one of the best ways to get up close and personal with our constituency—the people for whom we're gathering information about cooperative living. Tomorrow I'll get plenty of first-hand evidence about what people who want community care about. It's an opportunity to reset my gyroscope and test to see if what I have to offer is still what's needed. It's also a chance to cast the net for new energy to join the FIC circle of community fanatics. In other words, it'll be fun on multiple levels.

With the perspective of 2020 vision, there's probably only a 60% chance that in another decade I'll still be reigning as the Fellowship's main administrator (because in 2020 there's a 100% chance that I'll no longer be in my 60s). I figure it's never too early to start planning ahead for a cooperative transition. Maybe one or two of my successors will be in the room tomorrow. Exciting!

Rolling South

I'm typing from the upper deck of the southbound Coast Starlight, as we pull out of Portland (on a precious clear and sunny day!) to wend our way up the Willamette Valley. Eventually we'll snake through the Siskiyous and the substantial snow banks lingering in the passes leading to Chemult and Klamath Falls. (Yes, deep snow persists there into the second half of April and beyond.) In the dark, we'll begin our long descent into northern California, rumbling past Mt Shasta‚ which will literally be in view for hours—the mountain is that large and that isolated. In the pre-dawn, we'll chug into Sacramento in time to catch the early morning commuters. From there it's less than two hours to Emeryville and my first latte. If we're on time, I can get picked up before my host's 9 am yoga class.

I'll be in town for exactly one week, during which I'll visit with perhaps a half dozen friends, buttonhole potential sponsors for the FIC Art of Community weekend Sept 21-13 in Occidental, author some reports, attend a seder, soak in a hot tub or two, and launch Weekend I of the northern California version of my two-year course in Integrative Facilitation. It promises to be a full week.

Among other things, I'm looking forward to getting around the East Bay on foot, which is a terrific antidote to the sedentary life of a meeting junkie (and inveterate report writer). While I'm likely to rely on a car to get to and from the train station, there's a decent chance it'll all be BART and shoe leather in between. Yippee!

After a week of immersion in the perpetual spring of Berkeley, the following Monday I head for the barn, courtesy of two days on the eastbound California Zephyr. After 29 days on the road it'll be good to sleep in my own bed.

I left home in the cold mud of March and will return to the vibrant green of a countryside right on the cusp of summer. I will be returning just in time for morels and bluebells. Double yippee!

An Eventful Year Ahead

Most years I participate in three events that offer the public a chance to learn about cooperative living. This year, the opportunities will be doubled—which is great for riding the wave of surging interest in community. I'm psyched. Here's an overview of what's on tap for 2011, posted in chronological sequence:

1. May 21 • Art of Community Day
in Chicago IL, hosted by the Fellowship for Intentional Community
This will be a one-day event on the north side of the Windy City, immediately following FIC's spring organizational meetings, May 18-20. There will be workshops, networking, and more fun than you can shake a stick at. Community Bookshelf will be there, and the day will culminate after dinner with a raucous benefit auction, followed by live music and dancing. Registration is open now.

2. May 27-29 • Communities Conference
in Summertown TN, hosted by The Farm
Visit one of the best-known and longest standing intentional communities in the US and get a boatload of information and inspiration about cooperative living over Memorial Day Weekend. Contact Coordinator Douglas Stevenson for details: .

3. June 17-19 • National Cohousing Conference
in Washington DC, hosted by the Cohousing Association of the US
This annual event happens on the weekend nearest summer solstice. It brings together seekers, forming groups, representatives of built cohousing communities (there are over 130 in the US), and professionals for a packed weekend of workshops, speakers, and mixers. This year the event will be held at a hotel in suburban Virginia.

4. Aug 19-21 • Communities Conference
in Louisa VA, hosted by Twin Oaks
This is another annual event, located at a well-known and well-established community. In contrast with the cohousing weekend, this is a camping experience, which significantly reduces the cost. Twin Oaks has created a conference site nestled into the woods on the edge of their property, where everyone plays together for the weekend. While there will be the familiar array of workshops, Community Bookshelf, and chances to meet with representatives of regional communities, there will also be fire circles, community tours, and potluck meals.

5. Sept 23-25 • Art of Community
in Occidental CA, hosted by FIC
This event will be held at Westminster Woods, tucked into the coastal redwoods of southern Sonoma County, only 90 minutes north of San Francscio. We're expecting hundreds of participants to join us for a weekend focused on Creating Sustainable Culture Through Cooperation. Workshops and activities will emphasize interactive opportunities and experiential learning.

6. Nov 4-6 • NASCO Institute
in Ann Arbor MI, hosted by the North American Students of Cooperation
This annual event is held at the Michigan Union, right on campus, in the middle of downtown Ann Arbor. Most of the participants come from student co-ops around the US and Canada, attracting those who have been most inspired by their first taste of cooperative living. There are workshops, banquets, parties, and caucuses—all geared to making a good thing better.

• • •

While I'll only be able to attend five of the six (I was already booked to conduct a facilitation training over Memorial Day Weekend, when Douglas announced this year's conference at The Farm), I love getting together with people hungry for information about community, and am excited to have so many chances to share my enthusiasm about cooperative living with so many folks in one year.

This year, FIC's events cup runneth over. I invite you to mark your calendar now, so that when the time comes, you can runneth over and attend one or two of the events nearest you. We can also use your help in banging the drum to let your friends (and listserves) know about this great lineup of community events—before time runneth out.

Focusing Your Search for Community

I've just completed three days of total immersion at the Fellowship for Intentional Community's fall organizational meetings, held at Mosaic Commons, a newly built cohousing community in Berlin MA.

The two biggest alligators that we wrestled with were:
a) Approving a plan to hold an Art of Community weekend in northern California next fall. We have a competent core team to organize the event and an exciting venue (Westminster Woods, near Occidental), yet we needed to work out concerns around risk (we can't afford to lose money), price (what is the right mix of profit potential and accessibility?), and dates (after much cogitation, we ultimately decided to nestle our event into a weekend midway between two West Coast iconic events: Burning Man and Bioneers, hoping we won't be lost between those well-established, flashier bookends).

b) Balancing the 2011 budget (with the likelihood of losing more than $10,000 this year, we had to do some serious belt tightening).

While both of the above topics are compelling, I'm going to devote today's entry to introducing a blog series that arose out of an inquiry that came to FIC in the days right before the meeting. A seeker wrote:

I was wondering if you do a compatibility questionnaire with people to help them explore their own needs and desires when it comes to what they are searching for in a community. Something to clarify their own ideas and feelings to help them make better choices or more specific choices as they search community.

There was considerable resonance with this topic among the Board, and we devoted an hour to it last Friday. While it's a core FIC mission to help seekers find community, using our tools assumes that the seeker has a somewhat clear notion about what they want. After being in the community business for more than two decades, we know that isn't always the case, and thus we understood to potency of the inquirer's request. What might FIC offer that will make searching for community less daunting, especially to folks sticking their toes into the water for the first time?

I'm going to cover this topic in four passes:
I. What does FIC already offer?
II. How to make full use of Communities Directory as a seeker's resource
III. Questions that will help you figure out what you're looking for
IV. How to get the most out of a community visit

In today's offering, I'll tackle what we already have available:
o Communities Directory
We've been publishing this bible of who's doing what since 1990, and are releasing this week our 6th edition. The book has 512 pages, lists over 1000 North American communities, with groups offering descriptions in their own words. It retails for $35, but from now until the end of the year you can buy a copy for $30 (which includes shipping to a US address). There is no more comprehensive and accurate source in print. We also offer the information as an Online Directory with a searchable database.

o Communities magazine
This 80-page quarterly has been around since 1972. Each issue focuses on a theme and is packed with the issues, ideas, and inspiration of cooperative living. We cover both intentional communities, and creating community where you are. The magazine also offers a robust advertising section called Reach that specializes in listings of individuals looking for a home, and groups looking for members. A sample issue costs $5 (plus shipping) and a one-year subscription in the US costs $24.

o Visions of Utopia
This is a DVD that comes in two volumes. The first volume (94 min) was released in 2002 and contains an historical overview of intentional communities, plus segments profiling a representative sample of seven contemporary groups. Residents are telling their stories in their own voices. The second volume was released in 2009 (124 min) and features an additional 10 contemporary groups, completing the picture of the amazing range and breadth of what's out there today. Each volume sells for $30, or you can get both for $50 (plus shipping).

o www.ic.org
This is the URL of the home page for our family of websites. We get 2200 unique visitors every day, with the volume of traffic growing by more than 10% annually. About 95% of our inquiries arrive electronically these days and this is our main portal. If you look for "intentional community" on any search engine, our website will be at the top of the response. We've maintained this website since 1994, and nobody knows communities like we do.

o Community Bookshelf
This is a niche mail-order operation that specializes in titles on cooperative living, sustainability, group process, and right livelihood. Of particular note to seekers is Finding Community by Diana Christian. This 256-page gem was published in 2007 and is aimed expressly for people trying to figuring out how to sort out what kind of community might work well for them. It sells for $25, plus shipping.

o Art of Community
FIC periodically offers one- or two-day events where participants can get both information about community living and an experience of it at the same time. As I mentioned above, the Board just approved a plan to produce the next one, probably for the weekend of Sept 23-25 (we can't be sure of the dates until we sign the contract) in northern CA. In addition to rolling our own, we frequently partner with sister organizations to hold joint events, or are a regular player at others' events, offering an array of workshops and often bringing Bookshelf to the party. Here are three annual events where we a regular junior partner:
—National cohousing conference (next one will be June 17-19, in Washington DC)—Twin Oaks Communities Conference (next one will be Aug 19-21 in Louisa VA)
—NASCO Institute (next one will be Nov 4-6 in Ann Arbor MI)

• • •

With the holidays just around the corner, you could do a lot worse than selecting from the list above for ideas to fill the stockings of loved ones. Think about giving the gift of community, and really bringing light into someone's life.

Entering the Rapids

One of my favorite recreational pasttimes is wilderness canoeing. Over the course of the last 50 years I’ve spent—in aggregate—about one year in a canoe. Mostly in Canada (which has more land than the US and only one-tenth the population, and therefore much more wilderness).

For the most part my experience has been lake canoeing (which means that wind is far more a determinant of progress than current). That said, it’s not unusual for two lakes to communicate via a stretch of river passage, and some portion of the time that means white water. If the current is going our way, we’ll have to assess whether we think we can run the rapids, walk them, or portage around them. Sometimes we have a route guide that will give us a hint of what we’ll encounter, but we never run white water without sussing it out.

Once we decide to shoot a rapids, we select an approach and a paddling technique (it’s not uncommon that you’ll need to change direction part-way through and you want to work out the sequence and the signaling ahead of time—as much as I’m a process junkie, in the midst of white water is not the right time to call a mtg). Because your leverage in altering directions is dependent on the relative difference between the canoe’s speed and the current, it’s generally best to enter rapids with strong strokes. I line up my chosen angle of approach, and then let my bowman know it's time to lean into their paddle with two words: "Hit it!"

As you accelerate into the maelstrom, there’s a particular moment when you are not yet into the white water, yet you are committed beyond return. Your heart rate jumps, the adrenaline is flowing, and time slows down. You are totally alive… and you haven’t even done anything yet! (One of my best canoeing buddies was friend named Tony, and he found that the sound of approaching rapids was more effective than Metamucil for achieving regularity in the bush—he had to take a dump just anticipating that we might shoot.)

• • •

This morning, I am entering the rapids of six consecutive days of total immersion in the World of FIC. It starts tonight and runs through noon next Thursday. First the Art of Cmty Southwest weekend—registration starts this afternoon—followed immediately by the FIC spring organizational mtg at Hummingbird Ranch.

It is part of my public life… which I simultaneously crave and dread. I love the energy and exhilaration, yet can never be sure whether I’ll encounter hidden rocks that can swamp my boat. I forget to eat, need less sleep, and am always wanting to have my paddle in the water, feeling my way in the changing current, and laughing with the crashing waves. I never feel more alive than when I'm in the rapids.

The Circus Comes to Town!

In three days, the FIC will open its Art of Community Southwest weekend, running May 30-June 1 on the campus of the University of New Mexico, in Albuquerque. I’ve been in town since last Wed, and can feel the building energy. They're coming!

For me, participating in a community conference is like going to the circus. There's a festive, time-is-suspended atmosphere where everyone can temporarily set aside their regularly scheduled lives (and protective armor) to create magic together. There will be big top plenaries, five-ring sideshows (concurrent workshops), out-of-town performers, techno-wizardry, and entertainment galore. Everything but dancing bears and corn dogs.

The way it's not like a circus is that the Art of Community is about authenticity, not diversion. It's about delivering the tools and inspiration to lead the life you want, rather than delivering a temporary escape from what's not working. Talk about magic: the FIC believes you can bring your life and values into alignment and have a good time. (Our aim is to have you wake up Monday morning with a dream you can act on, not with a feeling that the weekend was just a dream.)

Part of the excitement is that it's a little bit out of control, by which I mean interactive and unscripted. For many, the best parts will happen on the fly: the chance conversations at the bookstore, during coffee breaks, or with the person sitting next to you at that special workshop on how to train wombats to fetch your morning paper. Or with the person bidding against you for the Caribbean vacation at the Sat night benefit auction—maybe you should do that cruise together.

Sure there's a schedule, and, as a presenter, I'll have an outline of what I want to say. Yet I prefer to work without a net—inviting comments and questions from the audience, looking for the sweet spot where I can ride my enthusiasm on the wave of their curiosity. Just like at any circus, you never know what's going to happen next. The trick of it is trusting that you'll know when to jump on board when those extemporaneous surges come. (My mantra as a workshop improv artist: keep breathing, and trust the magic.)

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This morning I'm not on stage; I'm on call. I'm acting as Boy Tuesday for my wife, Ma’ikwe, who’s the ringmaster for this weekend's event. (I’m typing this in a coffee shop across from campus—appropriately enough, called "Satellite"—where I wait in orbit as her chauffeur while she’s closeted with her A/V magician, Derek Roff.)

This afternoon Registrar Donna Berry arrives by train from Minnesota, the first of the out-of-state organizing team to arrive, and we've scheduled a power dinner with her and Site Manager Peggy Loftfield (a Albuquerque local and 13-year FIC veteran) at the Chama River Brew Pub, to continue the ferment, so to speak. (Don't you just love the circus?)

Ma'ikwe woke up this morning in a sense of panic, momentarily thinking it was Wednesday instead of Tuesday (how could she ever get everything done with only 60 hours left 'til show time?). After realizing she'd slipped a gear, she exhaled… then settled into identifying what exactly she needed to accomplish in the next 24 hours to head off that same feeling of panic tomorrow morning—when it really would be Wed.

Can you feel the buzz? I can't say for sure if we'll get everything done in the next three days (or if Ma'ikwe will wake up any morning before next Monday without a knot in her gut), but I can promise a great time… and who knows when the circus will come again?

The curtain goes up Friday evening and, hey, there's still time to get tickets!

40 Days in the Wilderness

Yesterday I picked up my wife, Ma'ikwe, at the La Plata train station. Outbound from Albuquerque, she'll be in northeast Missouri for two weeks, to participate in the first Dancing Rabbit visitor period of the 08 season. In addition to her enthusiasm for the upcoming visit to her prospective cmty, her arrival was noteworthy because it marked the first time we'd seen each other since March 10—a (nearly interminable) stretch of 40 days and 40 nights.

While some subscribe to the theory that distance makes the heart grow fonder, mostly Ma'ikwe and I experience separations beyond two weeks with crankiness (for a fortnight we can more or less happily occupy ourselves with the myriad other portions of the full lives we already had before we got together). We hope to avoid doing 40 days in the Wilderness of Spousal Separation again. No fun.

Agonizingly, we only have about 55 hours together before she needs to head over to DR and I race around to wrap up loose ends at home before a 15-day road trip to North Carolina. Then it's another month apart before Ma'ikwe and I rendezvous next (in Albuquerque, just ahead of the FIC's Art of Community Southwest weekend that Ma'ikwe is coordinating May 30-June 1). These precious hours are an oasis in a desert of deprivation. Luckily, after we reconvene in late May, time apart will be more the exception than the rule—that I'm very much looking forward to.

When Ma'ikwe finally settles in as my neighbor (perhaps in July), we'll need to work out our routines of involvement in our home cmties interwoven with our lives as a couple. While it's not yet obvious how that will play out so that no one will feel short-changed, we're eager for that challenge to replace the one we're in now—trying to maintain regular contact while living in different time zones. Compared with what we've weathered so far, having Ma'ikwe just three miles away looks might good.

It happens that today is also the one-year anniversary of our wedding. Despite all the crazy logistics, it's wonderful to be together on this propitious day, and to celebrate that we're still very happy to have made the commitment we did last year. In the end, there's no substitute for having a partner you're totally into and who's totally into you. I'm a lucky guy.

Community Blooms in the Desert

One of the most fun things I do is participate in cmty events—gatherings where people come together to share information and swap stories about cooperative living. I've got five such gigs lined up this year (I did one in Houston last month, with four still ahead). The next one is coming up in Albuquerque on the campus of the University of New Mexico, May 30-June 1: the Art of Community Southwest, sponsored by my home team, the Fellowship for Intentional Community.

My wife, Ma'ikwe Ludwig, is the main conference organizer, and—in the subtle way she has—she nudged me last night to post this blog, so folks can take advantage of the seven days remaining for early registration discounts:
—Early Bird ticket (sliding scale): $95-200 until April 20th
—Tickets can be purchased online at: www.brownpapertickets.com/event/26402
—To register with a check, contact Syd at 206-679-5342

We are offering a weekend immersion in the evolution of cooperative, sustainable culture. Major themes include Residential Intentional Community, Guerrilla Community Building, Urban Regeneration, Permaculture, and Ecovillages. We will explore "community" from many angles:
o As part of peace and social justice work
o As a cooperative lifestyle choice
o As a spiritual path
o As a laboratory for social change
o As an antidote to global climate change.

The main speakers will be:
o Climate change author Albert Bates of The Farm's Ecovillage Training Center
o Urban homesteader and permaculturist Mary Lou Singleton of the Midwives Alliance of North America
o Earth Day organizer Mark Dubois of the Pachamama Alliance
o Community advocate and group consultant Laird Schaub of the FIC
o Author Margo Adair of Tools for Change
o Youth advocate Myra Murphy-Jacob of the Sustainable Global Leadership Alliance

Here's a sampling of workshop topics:
• Consensus
• Starting a Residential Intentional Community
• New Economics
• Pathways to Sustainability
• Aging in Community Successfully
• Spiritual Activism
• Biodeisel Basics
• Ecovillages
• Media, Community, and the Fate of the Earth
• Integrative Land Planning for Community

In addition to speakers, workshops, and networking opportunities galore, there will be a Saturday night banquet, followed by a raucous benefit auction. Whether you currently live in community or not, we hope you'll join us for practical information about living a more sustainable life now; for inspiration about creating more cmty in your life today; and for having a good time even as we're busy with the serious work of changing the world!

For more information, contact (my industrious wife) Ma'ikwe at 505-514-8180 or maikwe@solspace.net

I hope to see you there.