It was 103 degrees when we gathered under a shade tent in California to honor a mutual friend over Labor Day weekend. We’d been a tight group connected to the woman we’d come to see for almost 30 years and joyful hugs were shared as we greeted each other. The most remarkable thing about those hugs was that with one exception we’d never actually met each other in person.
We had communicated for many of those years by email, text, and phone because we were part of a support group that helped sustain the friend we came to meet while she was incarcerated for far too long and for all the wrong reasons. An amazing woman, her story and her strength had bound us in friendship and determination and now a few of us we were gathering in solidarity to celebrate her rightful place in society and to salute her extraordinary patience, faith, and skills as a peer leader, which had inspired each of us.
That occasion prompted me to think about the importance, and the urgency, of community in a time when it seems that the idea of community – coming together with and for each other - has been sadly diminished in an age when social media, email and text dominate our lives such that we have lost the art and the gift of true interpersonal contact. As I contemplated this loss, myriad examples came to mind as I recalled the sense of community I’d grown up with and have been lucky to enjoy in a variety of contexts.
I remembered the neighborhood I grew up in, a place where other mothers took the place of mine when she was frequently hospitalized. I recalled summers “down the shore” with school friends, and later the women’s group I started when I had a significant birthday, a gang that has continued to constitute a caring community relied upon and enjoyed by each of us for nearly three decades. I embraced the thought of the new community my husband and I entered when we moved recently.
I also recalled the deep sense of loss I experienced when other strong and loving friendships that created the sense of a small community dissolved for reasons I still don’t understand.
Those memories helped me contemplate the nature of community and why it is so important to maintain in a frenzied world with a fragile future. I thought about how communities are born and exist within a variety of contexts and how they are sustained. I realized that they come in different sizes, can be short-lived but meaningful and important, arise around relationships developed in formative years, fleeting encounters, or in later life. Sometimes inspired or bound by geography or shared experience, cultures, or history, they can also spring up between and among people of deep diversity.
When I solo-traveled frequently as a young single woman I found myself in community because of a shared love of travel that lasted the length of a train trip, or a hotel stay or a restaurant encounter. The people I met and connected with on many levels weren’t just new acquaintances, some became lifelong friends even though we lived in different countries or came from disparate cultures; they were my community in the time we shared.
When I connected with people who share my religious identity or my political views, for example, we “got” each other quickly and understood and cared about each other. We told our stories, laughed together, and revealed our values and worldview. However long or brief, it was a time of deep connection. Occasionally my new sense of community kept me out of trouble as a young woman traveling alone and helped me to not feel lonely or afraid. It also gave me the chance to share my wonder and joy in new places with others who felt the same way.
That, it seems to me, is essential community. It’s about being in connection in very human ways and caring for and about each other in times of celebration, new experience, growth or need. It’s a time to explore and contemplate our common humanity and often to find soulmates who sustain us. It manifests itself in places where people gather, and in places where they find each other serendipitously. It can exist through structured environments or in the metaphorical woods of exploration and questing. Sometimes “it takes a village,” and sometimes it’s found in interrupted solitude.
That’s why it is so sad to think that we are relinquishing community – in whatever form it takes -- or failing to recognize its demise because modern life has created craters in our connection to each other. Writer bell hooks (sic) put it this way: “I am often struck by the dangerous narcissism fostered by spiritual rhetoric that pays so much attention to individual self-improvement and so little to the practice of love within the context of community.”
Those words speak volumes about technology-driven modern life and the isolation it spawns. They also remind us of the need for, and the gift of, connection in our harried lives. Whether in a village, a train, or a regularly shared tradition, community exists to be cherished and nurtured, just as it continues to nurture us.
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Elayne Clift writes from Brattleboro, Vt.