These last three years in Ashland, I have had difficulty finding a sense of community. I joke that I am too 
‘low vibe’ for people here because on multiple occasions I’ve had people respond negatively when I talk about racial/social justice and inequity. Not as a ‘social justice warrior’ with an agenda, but just as myself, a person with a complex and marginalized background naming my and other’s reality. It’s a bit too bubble bursting at times.
So it’s been very lonely here for me, as I learn what it means to live in a ‘white liberal town.’ But also, as someone who deeply longs for community and yet finds being part of community complex. I see people around me who have moved here around the same time as I and they have found their circles. I began to judge myself, comparing myself to them, asking why I haven’t made connections.
But it’s complex for me, and for many of us who are in between worlds, culturally and from various marginalized experiences. For instance, most places I go, I am the only orphan in the room.
Though I cultivate and have a broad network of beautiful and loving friends and community all over the country, I have felt grief about lacking this in the place where I live. I know this is universal in so many ways in this fragmented society. I am currently supporting many people who are facing this challenge in their lives as well. We are all just trying to survive in individualistic late stage capitalism. We are so immersed that the threads of community feel like indulgence, and/or this capacity has been squeezed out of our fabric.
So the other night, I made time to visit with a friend at a local tea house, trying to be intentional about making time for community.
I waited and waited, and an hour passed.
She forgot about me.
She is a very busy mama, and I know, it was not personal.
I have to admit I have been that mama. I’m not sure if I’ve left anyone waiting for me in a cafe, but I have certainly forgotten phone dates!
But in that moment, I felt pretty sunk.
It wasn’t about her, but about my little girl/soul’s grief at just not finding ‘a trusted person’ here, and this felt like a straw that broke the camel’s back.
Which is disappointing for anyone, but for me, also touches the wound of orphanhood.
I let myself cry in the car, holding my little girl as she grieved.
I came home and cried to Sean and Sabi and they listened with love.
I am so aware that so many do not even have this, two loving souls, who care and give hugs.
A part of me wanted to say to myself, “see, stop complaining”
but my little girl that is so social and longs for community, had a good reason to cry.
I woke at 1pm unable to sleep, so journaled and connected with Guidance. I remembered that I’ve always been an outlier, between worlds, and I’m often viewed as a mentor, but not someone you hang out with. And often that has been by my own choice, since I’m not a partier, preferring deep connection. And sometimes I’ve had a ‘reactive attachment’ and ‘spiritual abuse’ intersect that has kept me from trusting some communities that others can feel comfortable with. Many layers.
And from a spiritual perspective, solitude as medicine cultivation and reflection is part of my wider path.
I held my little girl and realized that I need to more deeply accept who I am and what is.
To deeply accept that I live in a fragmented world,
that I am a product of its dysfunction,
and we are doing our best within our capacities, our paths.
And yes, there may be some more intact communities, but it is never loving to compare ourselves or our reality. Never, never. Never.
Only to be compassionate to my little girl/soul and her complex longing and grief, because that is my job.
I am her reliable ‘trusted person’.
And I am immensely grateful for all the love I do have in my life, with open-hearted people all over, including the beautiful self-reclamation community I am honored to support.
This morning, I lay in between Sean and Sabriel and thanked them for being my incredible mini-community. I felt this as a blessing of my grief; that I can see more clearly what a deep gift each moment with them, right here, is.
They are a sacred balm to my orphan heart.
Later, Maya came to the park and played badminton with us. We can barely hit the birdie, but we laugh alot. I drank in the sweet community of my little familia.
This evening, I made chili paste and a realized I had abundant veggies that needed cooking. As I pulled together and chopped the peppers, cauliflower, broccoli, tomatoes and fava beans, I realized they came to me from three different, beautiful, generous women that I do have the honor of knowing here in town.
To this I added, gelatinous venison broth made by another beautiful woman from roadkill deer (yep).
While grieving community,
I made a friend soup.
They are all coming from separate worlds around me, and like the mama who forgot me, I am often in my own world too. Tending, tending our nests, doing our best to hold and juggle all the pieces, because it is all we can really manage in our little nuclear worlds, the rest feeling too big to tackle.
So maybe I don’t have in person, fantasy community, living in the woods like our ancestors, even though the longing aches in my heart.
And maybe I am alone in my home way too much for my social inner child.
And maybe I won’t be able to change the fragmentation we are all swimming in,
but right now, I do have delicious, heart-full friend soup.
There are women who share my love of growing food, enamored with fruits and vegetables, seasons, rhythms and Earth.
I’m going to share it with my little familia tonight
and count my blessings.
Bringing balance to the heartache and complexity.
And reassuring my soul that she can count on me, to know her, see her, have compassion for her and nourish her, no matter what.
xoxo