“She drank the last of her coffee, which left a coating of bitter grit on her tongue, and said: ‘We both speak of illuminating the world, but we have different sources of light, you and I.’ Will, unaccountably elated, feeling he ought to be piqued at this odd woman’s gray gaze challenging him at his own table, instead smiled, and went on smiling, and said: ‘Then we shall see who first blows out the other’s candle,’ and raised his cup in a toast.” – from The Essex Serpent: A Novel by Sarah Perry.
Community Formation
What does it mean to illuminate the world? To enlighten? To make better? Certainly it refers to a change of some sort. Why would one want to do this? Because she isn’t happy with the current conditions. I certainly agree that the world could use a higher wattage bulb. If you don’t agree, drive on any freeway during rush hour traffic, go to a supermarket on a Saturday afternoon, explore a major city by foot, visit a nursing home, or simply observe people at a coffee shop for an hour. You don’t need to visit a poverty-stricken nation or war zone to know that there is sadness, anger, and suffering (of many levels) in this world.
So, what do we do about this? What do we do to alieve our own suffering (often with the thought of illuminating the world)? Some people join a community. Community comes in all shapes and sizes. It could be a church, book club, volunteer organization, yoga studio, etc. A bit more “extreme” version of this is intentional communities where people live and work together. While our ancestors operated this way and some still do, intentional communities in America are often not seen as “normal”. They are for cults, hippies, and religious nuts. America is all about the single-family home, not knowing your neighbor’s name, driving to work, sitting in front of a computer and looking good at the big meeting, and driving back home.
A Shift in Values
Before the industrial revolution, people lived in agricultural communities of small houses, working together. The insightful book, “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking”, by Susan Cain, speaks to a shift in the way people lived and acted at the turn of the 20th century. Urbanization pushed these small populations into cities and with it, as Cain describes, a change from the Culture of Character to the Culture of Personality. Cain writes, “In the Culture of Character, the ideal self was serious, disciplined, and honorable. What counted was not so much the impression one made in public as how one behaved in private…But when they embraced the Culture of Personality, Americans started to focus on how others perceived them.” This created troubles of its own. So, society transformed from tight-knit communities where restraint was honored to an anonymous business world where outer charms were coveted. These values (character and personality) can define a community and even an entire society. I have seen these and other values played out in several communities.
My Experiences in Community
I have spent two months living and working at a small yoga retreat center in the Midwest. The staff was small (less than 10) and there were about 15 community members living on the property. We rarely had more than 40 guests. This was the perfect size for an introvert like me, and the community seemed to value character more than personality. Being quiet wasn’t strange. However, why was I almost relieved to leave? I did not side with their purpose. They followed the teachings of a highly regarded Yogi, chanting the same mantras each night, reading the same blessing before meals, and honoring his insights. I did not fully connect to the messages. However, I felt like my temperament fit in with the other community members, and I formed friendships while enjoying the peace and solitude.
I spent five weeks living and working at a very large yoga retreat center out East. There were 200 staff members and sometimes over a thousand guests. The season was already well underway when I joined, and I didn’t make any friends until it was almost time to leave. People didn’t say “Hi” to me or invite me to sit with them for meals. I would ask people if I could join their table and they would say “sure”, but I always felt like an outsider and consciously decided to give up on trying to make friends after awhile. While the center’s glue was “yoga”, and we were all there in the name of service, there was really no defined purpose I could see. We could participate in Buddhist meditations, mindfulness courses, shamanism talks, dance and painting classes, basket weaving, tai chi, qi gong, movie nights, canoeing. The possibilities were endless. A lot of staff members were more than happy to let you know what their thoughts on everything was, and many people sang and danced as they worked. To prove how much of an individual they were, some people cut, twisted, and otherwise modified their work T-shirt. In the name of self-expression, I suppose, but which self are they expressing? I was an introvert in what seemed like a world of extroverts. I was alone in a community, despite my best efforts. I yearned for connection. How did that happen?
I have also spent a few days at a religious community in Vermont, where I was invited to participate in two dinners and gatherings (including a dance) of its members. The members (approximately 50) lived in several houses, tended a farm, and owned a restaurant that employed its members. They dressed similarly to each other in modest outfits, the men had beards, women had long hair, children were home-schooled. They were very inviting, and at the second dinner, a convincing sales pitch of their community’s way of life was made over beef and vegetables. Everyone seemed so happy. They seemed to revere character over personality and on the surface preached love and fellowship. Why didn’t I want to join? I didn’t side with their main glue (super glue, perhaps), their very specific religious convictions.
There are also more fluid communities that are constantly changing. The long-distance hiking community is certainly one of those. There is a common trail, but different purposes, goals, paces. It almost seems like you don’t choose to join those communities. They exist, and if you are in the right place at the right time, you’re a member.
Large Scale Communities
Overall, this is what I have found to define a community: purpose, size, overarching temperaments of members (what is valued, character or personality? this sets a clear tone), living arrangements, openness to “outsiders” or those looking to join. Of course, there are also finances (the Vermont community members must relinquish all bank accounts before joining), physical boundaries, leadership, schooling of children (if children are even allowed), to name a few.
This idea of community, something that was a natural coming together of people (and still is in some places) has become so complicated. How do you unplug from a Western society and join like-minded people? These individual communities become isolated and while the members themselves may benefit, what about the global community? Can the entire globe benefit? Can a global community even be formed?
Western and Eastern cultures are very different. Susan Cain’s book compares the introversion of Asian cultures to the extroversion in European cultures. One is not better than the other. What is important is that everyone is accepted and respected within each culture (and across cultures), which is not always the case, and can lead to members feeling isolated.
If there isn’t harmony in a small community, how do we expect harmony in a country, continent, or in a global community? Moving past our temperaments, our personalities, what is at the heart of it all? I believe it is the universal spirit. The sheer awe experienced while watching a sunset, the unconditional love of your pet, how our bodies detect a change in the weather before it happens, knowing who is calling before you answer the phone, donating an organ to someone you don’t know. There is something that connects us all that cannot be put into words, yet we all try to put a name on it. Love, oneness, divinity, the Creator…?
Looking Forward
Traditions meant to explore and explain this connection often isolate themselves and shun others. This can lead to confusion, blind faith, and war. How do we get to the meat of it all? How do communities become accepting of all of their members? How do communities connect to each other? Maybe the seeds of the perfect community (one that can eventually bring everyone together) just haven’t been sprouted yet. How many and what kinds of communities does it take to screw in a light bulb of illumination? It seems like I’ve created more questions than answers… And yet, these experiences have been meaningful, transformative, and eye-opening. I have not just learned about specific communities, I have discovered more about myself. I have jokingly told others I want to start my own community. Would its candle of illumination survive the winds of time? I guess every community starts with one…
