*When Cuthbert and I say the same thing at the same time and it doesn’t even phase us because it happens so often
*When someone asks me for help with something and it reassures me that, yes, I am actually good at the thing they want help with.
*Velma and Norah talking to each other in their own crazy language – “Dude! Cool! Shell!”
*J stopping whatever he’s doing to walk us ladies to our cars when we leave the party
*When awkward, one-off quotes somehow become regular conversation pieces – “I’m looking at you and I see a problem”
*Norah reaching up to hold my hand.
*Being identified by someone else as something I secretly want to be, but that I don’t feel successful at actually being – i.e. Velma casually mentioning she’d like to be more of an urban homesteader – like me, or that she’d like to become known for throwing great parties, so she’ll have me plan all of them.
*Playing Rock Band
*When something prompts me to realize I’ve gone a bit off the grid on something (sew your own diapers, anyone?) and I realize I feel pretty good about it rather than feeling like I’m weird.
*The Dark Tower books
*Norah shouting people’s names that she sees in photographs around the house (Shell! Beep beep! Papa!)
*Making good progress at a cohousing meeting
*When friends-of-a-friend become, simply, friends
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Now I'm Just Showing Off (Diaper Sewing)
Today we're going to talk about diapers.
Why?, you're asking, Oh, why, oh, why would I want to listen to you pratter on about diapers?
Because they're cloth and they're pretty.
And because I have pictures.
And because I sewed them myself and you, being the kind and sweet friend you are, want to validate me.
So here we go!
First off, I know a lot of my friends don't have kids, let alone any idea what a cloth diaper looks like. There are all kinds, but I mostly use fitted diapers with waterproof covers and prefolds with waterproof covers. A lot of people like pocket diapers, but I don't care for them so I've never sewn any... so I don't have any pictures of any to even show you what they are. Sorry. *shrug*
I do have some pictures of my fitted diapers and waterproof covers, though.
This is a fitted diaper I made. See how the legs are all elastic-y, and it has closures at the top? It goes on just like a disposable diaper, but it's silky cloth - bamboo velour to be exact. Yummy! They have some extra fabric in the crotch for absorbency, and generally work out not to result in leaks, which is a plus. Come to think of it, I have never had a diaper blowout in a cloth diaper - only in a disposable.
Here's the same diaper, just unfolded.
Fitted diapers are not waterproof, so they require a cover. So here are some covers:
Aren't they pretty? They just go on right over the top of the fitted diaper or prefold, and they are waterproof. The outer layer is a fabric called polyurethane laminate (PUL), which provides the waterproof-ness. The inner is a fleece that is nice and soft. You can re-use covers when you change the fitted diapers or prefolds, provided the cover isn't soiled. For that reason, those 6 covers you see are all I need to get through 3 days of diapering, while I need roughly 2 dozen fitteds or prefolds.
I made the fitteds and covers pictured with the Darling Diapers Unlimited pattern.
I do not have any prefolds to show you because I haven't made any of those either. They're so ridiculously inexpensive that it simply isn't worth my time to make them rather than buy. They're basically rectangles of fabric with extra absorbency in the middle. You can pin or snappi (which is like a pin, but less dangerous) them on baby, or you can fold them in thirds and sit them inside the cover. I do use these covers with prefolds I've bought.
*~*~*~*~*
Now for some of my more recent diaper sewing!
I recently got really curious about gdiapers cloth diapers and how they work. The gdiapers covers are not completely waterproof - only a small portion that holds an insert is waterproof. I found a nice tutorial on how to make something resembling this and went to town. The result is wonderful!
Here is the first beautiful diaper I made. It is from the Cloth Revolution free pattern. I modified it a little to make it front snapping instead of side snapping because I don't like side-snapping diapers and that's what the pattern called for. It's cute, no? But it doesn't look terribly waterproof, seeing as how it's made of flannel.
Open it up, and there's a waterproof liner! Whoo hoo! The liner is comprised of a small rectangle of PUL (I think 17in x 9in on this diaper) bound in fold over elastic. A prefold fits into it perfectly for the diaper's absorbency. So far this hasn't been leaking, either. Bonus!
The liner is sewn right into the diaper. So long as nothing is soiled, you can just switch wet prefolds out for dry ones when you need to change a diaper.
I liked it so much I made 3 more!
And a couple close-ups:
That's all for now; thanks for looking!
Why?, you're asking, Oh, why, oh, why would I want to listen to you pratter on about diapers?
Because they're cloth and they're pretty.
And because I have pictures.
And because I sewed them myself and you, being the kind and sweet friend you are, want to validate me.
So here we go!
First off, I know a lot of my friends don't have kids, let alone any idea what a cloth diaper looks like. There are all kinds, but I mostly use fitted diapers with waterproof covers and prefolds with waterproof covers. A lot of people like pocket diapers, but I don't care for them so I've never sewn any... so I don't have any pictures of any to even show you what they are. Sorry. *shrug*
I do have some pictures of my fitted diapers and waterproof covers, though.
This is a fitted diaper I made. See how the legs are all elastic-y, and it has closures at the top? It goes on just like a disposable diaper, but it's silky cloth - bamboo velour to be exact. Yummy! They have some extra fabric in the crotch for absorbency, and generally work out not to result in leaks, which is a plus. Come to think of it, I have never had a diaper blowout in a cloth diaper - only in a disposable.
Here's the same diaper, just unfolded.
Fitted diapers are not waterproof, so they require a cover. So here are some covers:
Aren't they pretty? They just go on right over the top of the fitted diaper or prefold, and they are waterproof. The outer layer is a fabric called polyurethane laminate (PUL), which provides the waterproof-ness. The inner is a fleece that is nice and soft. You can re-use covers when you change the fitted diapers or prefolds, provided the cover isn't soiled. For that reason, those 6 covers you see are all I need to get through 3 days of diapering, while I need roughly 2 dozen fitteds or prefolds.
I made the fitteds and covers pictured with the Darling Diapers Unlimited pattern.
I do not have any prefolds to show you because I haven't made any of those either. They're so ridiculously inexpensive that it simply isn't worth my time to make them rather than buy. They're basically rectangles of fabric with extra absorbency in the middle. You can pin or snappi (which is like a pin, but less dangerous) them on baby, or you can fold them in thirds and sit them inside the cover. I do use these covers with prefolds I've bought.
*~*~*~*~*
Now for some of my more recent diaper sewing!
I recently got really curious about gdiapers cloth diapers and how they work. The gdiapers covers are not completely waterproof - only a small portion that holds an insert is waterproof. I found a nice tutorial on how to make something resembling this and went to town. The result is wonderful!
Here is the first beautiful diaper I made. It is from the Cloth Revolution free pattern. I modified it a little to make it front snapping instead of side snapping because I don't like side-snapping diapers and that's what the pattern called for. It's cute, no? But it doesn't look terribly waterproof, seeing as how it's made of flannel.
Open it up, and there's a waterproof liner! Whoo hoo! The liner is comprised of a small rectangle of PUL (I think 17in x 9in on this diaper) bound in fold over elastic. A prefold fits into it perfectly for the diaper's absorbency. So far this hasn't been leaking, either. Bonus!
The liner is sewn right into the diaper. So long as nothing is soiled, you can just switch wet prefolds out for dry ones when you need to change a diaper.
I liked it so much I made 3 more!
And a couple close-ups:
That's all for now; thanks for looking!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
What Would You Do With $250,000?
I can think of a whole slew of useful things I could do with $250,000. Want to see a list? Ah, of course you do. Who doesn’t want to know what kind of random things accumulate in H’s head? Narcissism, schmarcissism .
Well, there’s that cohousing project we’re working on, for starters. $250,000 would get us off the ground and enable us to buy property and probably get a nice start on renovations.
And while we’re talking about money, there’s always the issue of paying off the house. I think we owe around $63,000 on it still. Norah could certainly use a college fund… hmm, what else? Maybe a vacation, a trip to the shop for my wobbly car, and a nice sum for investment.
Point being, there’s a lot you can do with $250,000.
Now what if you were, say, an agency with access to an extra $250,000? Let’s say you’re a social service agency and that among the things of utmost important to your founders were things like, for example:
Well, there’s that cohousing project we’re working on, for starters. $250,000 would get us off the ground and enable us to buy property and probably get a nice start on renovations.
And while we’re talking about money, there’s always the issue of paying off the house. I think we owe around $63,000 on it still. Norah could certainly use a college fund… hmm, what else? Maybe a vacation, a trip to the shop for my wobbly car, and a nice sum for investment.
Point being, there’s a lot you can do with $250,000.
Now what if you were, say, an agency with access to an extra $250,000? Let’s say you’re a social service agency and that among the things of utmost important to your founders were things like, for example:
- Remembering the widows and the fatherless
- Protecting the weak
- Feeding, clothing, and housing the poor
- Showing hospitality to strangers and the homeless
- Healing the sick
- Visiting those in prison
- Freeing the oppressed
- Loving people on the fringes of society
- Working for social justice
… then what could you do with $250,000?
Quite a lot, I’d imagine.
Why, just off the top of my head I can think of:
- Providing meals for the hungry
- Providing shelter for the homeless
- Giving pregnant, scared, young women the resources and support to have their babies and raise them or find good adoptive parents (which, in my opinion, seems like a more effective option than telling them they’re going to hell for abortion)
- Giving clothing to the poor
- Helping poor families keep their utilities on and their rent paid
- Helping poor families work toward educational and career-oriented goals
- Working to help people on the fringes of society – such as people with stigmatized diseases, mental health issues, etc.
- Providing transportation and/or child care for disadvantaged parents to participate in classes/programs that will help them get out of poverty.
- Forming a group to lobby for social justice issues
- Sending people to visit those in prison
And so on, and so on, and so on. This is just the list right off the top of my head. Imagine if your whole agency thought about it for a week or so! There’s a lot you could do with $250,000 if you were charity minded.
Or, you could build a giant statue of the figurehead of your religion by the side of the road with his arms raised like someone just scored a touchdown. Like so:
Cause, you know, that’s probably more in line with your mission than all those things ‘lil ‘ole H just typed up there.
Needless to say, I have an issue with the priorities of this church.
Interestingly enough (and that's all I'll say on the matter), the statue was struck by lightening and burned to the ground last night. You can read the story here.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Things That Make Me Happy ~ 2010
*Waking up in the morning with Norah snuggled into me
*Getting a call from Lisey every week and remembering how lucky I am to have someone who always remembers to call, even though I never call anyone.
*Thigh-high panty hose
*Looking at patterns with Mabel, or looking at things we like and figuring out how they were made
*Riding my bike downtown
*Coming home and opening the door and hearing Norah’s little feet running to me, and her shouting “ah-meee! Aaah-meee!”
*Finally getting up the nerve to use that *perfect* fabric I’ve been hoarding
*Making homemade bread for the people I love
*Norah laughing hysterically when I hold her upside down and tickle her belly
*Going back and reading something old I wrote and realizing, “wow, that’s actually pretty good!”
*Tiny Norah shoes sitting next to giant daddy shoes
*When Mia tells me a story from work and I see her heart and the realization that she claims me as her friend honors and pleases me so much it physically hurts
*Norah kisses
*Friends asking me to hem/repair/sew for them
*Getting a call from Lisey every week and remembering how lucky I am to have someone who always remembers to call, even though I never call anyone.
*Thigh-high panty hose
*Looking at patterns with Mabel, or looking at things we like and figuring out how they were made
*Riding my bike downtown
*Coming home and opening the door and hearing Norah’s little feet running to me, and her shouting “ah-meee! Aaah-meee!”
*Finally getting up the nerve to use that *perfect* fabric I’ve been hoarding
*Making homemade bread for the people I love
*Norah laughing hysterically when I hold her upside down and tickle her belly
*Going back and reading something old I wrote and realizing, “wow, that’s actually pretty good!”
*Tiny Norah shoes sitting next to giant daddy shoes
*When Mia tells me a story from work and I see her heart and the realization that she claims me as her friend honors and pleases me so much it physically hurts
*Norah kisses
*Friends asking me to hem/repair/sew for them
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sweet Pod Soft Structured Carrier
Hello all! I've just completed a Sweet Pod soft structured carrier and I'm popping in to show off this beautiful carrier and my equally beautiful model, miss Norah.
I have been wanting to make some sort of soft structured carrier for awhile now, because I am apparently wrap impaired when it comes to back carries and because I hate the crazy long straps flying everywhere when I use my Mei Tai (which I mostly only use for back carries). But because I am wrap impaired and because back carries are sometimes simply life savers, I have been dealing with the flying straps. Well, here's my new Sweet Pod; I shall deal with flying straps no more!
I bought the pattern here on the recommendation of the lovely ladies at Diaper Sewing Divas.
Here is the result:
That's Norah and I showing off our lovely carrier. She's almost 16 months and nearly 23 lbs in that photo. And we're showing off my lovely skirt, too (just had to throw that in there since I finished that this week, too!) Garage sale pants 4 sizes too big + scissors + thread + needle = comfy, comfy skirt.
Here's a picture of us from the side. Not a terribly flattering photo of me, but it allows you to see how the webbing holds the carrier together and allows for the buckles and buckle adjustments.
And a back carry! Finally! The very purpose for which I made this thing! Also, as you can see, Elmo has become a very important participant in this particular photo shoot.
Here are some photos of just the carrier. Since I've not yet acquired a dress form, I attempted to model this on one of my dining room chairs. Humor me.
Close up of the front
Here's how it all hooks together.
This is the inside of the carrier, the place where Norah sits. You'll notice there is a panel that sits between her and I (which is why I took this photo). This is great for back carries. This panel allows you to put your child on your front then rotate them to your back without dropping them. I have gotten pretty good at hoisting Norah up onto my back, but I think this feature would be really helpful for mamas (and papas!) who are nervous about the 'getting the kid on my back' part of back carries. On the other hand, the panel will get in the way of nursing. I don't have a nursling at the moment and I'd probably be using a wrap for or a ringsling for a front carry anyways, but it's something to consider.
This is the sleeping hood. There is an invisible zipper at the top of the carrier where the hood lives inside a pocket. It's pretty clever, actually. I don't really get the whole sleeping hood thing as I never had any trouble with Norah being stable while sleeping in a carrier. But then, I never tried one, either. I seriously doubt Norah's going to be sleeping in this carrier, so I probably won't be able to let you know how this works until we have more babies. So, not for awhile anyways.
As far as actually sewing this, it wasn't bad. It looks daunting up front, but it really isn't. There are a lot of steps to follow and it takes a lot of time, but none of the steps are actually very difficult - its just taking the time to follow the instructions well. I have no idea how long it took me to put this together as I did it in bits and pieces here and there (with a 2 week gap while I ordered my hardware and waited for a backordered piece). I would say an intermediate sewer, or even a determined beginner, should be able to do this without a problem.
Cost wise, I believe I have $35-$40 in materials invested plus the price of the pattern ($14). It seems like a lot, but I'll definately use the pattern again for showers for friends and family, so I'm pretending the price of the pattern falls into my 'gifts' budget instead of my 'I really want this carrier' budget. And really, $40 + pattern isn't much at all compared to buying a new SSC. Most of what I have seen are easily double that. I got to pick out my fabric as well, which is another bonus. I bought plenty extra to make a matching bag, wet bag, and changing pad, which will be very nice (and, incidentlly, much less expensive than a purchased bag, wet bag, or changing pad). A purchased pre-made SSC wouldn't give me that option.
The carrier is very comfortable to wear, espeically compared to my Mei Tai. There are no crazy straps flying everywhere, and there is lots of padding. The shoulder straps are nicely padded and the hip belt is padded with a closed-cell foam which is stiffer than normal foam and prevents the hip straps from digging into my sides like they do with my Mei Tai. It took me a bit to get the buckles and straps adjusted so they were comfortable, but once I got them right it has been very cozy. It's also been easy to get Norah in and out of.
What else is there to tell you? I bought my hardware from Outdoor Wilderness Fabrics. They were lovely to work with and I'm happy with what I received. Try to order with a friend if you can, though. Hardware for one carrier ran $11 and some change, but there is also a $2.50 handling charge if your order is under $20, plus it was $10 shipping. I doubled my order and got rid of the $2.50 handling charge plus my shipping didn't go up at all. Waaaaay better deal to buy hardware for 2.
I will likely use this carrier mostly for back carries in place of my Mei Tai. There is free buckle carrier pattern out there I'm considering trying out mostly because it doesn't have an internal panel and would therefore be better for nursing. But I won't be considering it probably until we start thinking about more babies, so it'll be awhile. That one is here. If anyone makes it, let me know what you think.
I think that's about all I have to report. I will leave you with two last photos of my gorgeous model, for your viewing pleasure. Thanks for looking!
I have been wanting to make some sort of soft structured carrier for awhile now, because I am apparently wrap impaired when it comes to back carries and because I hate the crazy long straps flying everywhere when I use my Mei Tai (which I mostly only use for back carries). But because I am wrap impaired and because back carries are sometimes simply life savers, I have been dealing with the flying straps. Well, here's my new Sweet Pod; I shall deal with flying straps no more!
I bought the pattern here on the recommendation of the lovely ladies at Diaper Sewing Divas.
Here is the result:
That's Norah and I showing off our lovely carrier. She's almost 16 months and nearly 23 lbs in that photo. And we're showing off my lovely skirt, too (just had to throw that in there since I finished that this week, too!) Garage sale pants 4 sizes too big + scissors + thread + needle = comfy, comfy skirt.
Here's a picture of us from the side. Not a terribly flattering photo of me, but it allows you to see how the webbing holds the carrier together and allows for the buckles and buckle adjustments.
And a back carry! Finally! The very purpose for which I made this thing! Also, as you can see, Elmo has become a very important participant in this particular photo shoot.
Here are some photos of just the carrier. Since I've not yet acquired a dress form, I attempted to model this on one of my dining room chairs. Humor me.
Close up of the front
Here's how it all hooks together.
This is the inside of the carrier, the place where Norah sits. You'll notice there is a panel that sits between her and I (which is why I took this photo). This is great for back carries. This panel allows you to put your child on your front then rotate them to your back without dropping them. I have gotten pretty good at hoisting Norah up onto my back, but I think this feature would be really helpful for mamas (and papas!) who are nervous about the 'getting the kid on my back' part of back carries. On the other hand, the panel will get in the way of nursing. I don't have a nursling at the moment and I'd probably be using a wrap for or a ringsling for a front carry anyways, but it's something to consider.
This is the sleeping hood. There is an invisible zipper at the top of the carrier where the hood lives inside a pocket. It's pretty clever, actually. I don't really get the whole sleeping hood thing as I never had any trouble with Norah being stable while sleeping in a carrier. But then, I never tried one, either. I seriously doubt Norah's going to be sleeping in this carrier, so I probably won't be able to let you know how this works until we have more babies. So, not for awhile anyways.
As far as actually sewing this, it wasn't bad. It looks daunting up front, but it really isn't. There are a lot of steps to follow and it takes a lot of time, but none of the steps are actually very difficult - its just taking the time to follow the instructions well. I have no idea how long it took me to put this together as I did it in bits and pieces here and there (with a 2 week gap while I ordered my hardware and waited for a backordered piece). I would say an intermediate sewer, or even a determined beginner, should be able to do this without a problem.
Cost wise, I believe I have $35-$40 in materials invested plus the price of the pattern ($14). It seems like a lot, but I'll definately use the pattern again for showers for friends and family, so I'm pretending the price of the pattern falls into my 'gifts' budget instead of my 'I really want this carrier' budget. And really, $40 + pattern isn't much at all compared to buying a new SSC. Most of what I have seen are easily double that. I got to pick out my fabric as well, which is another bonus. I bought plenty extra to make a matching bag, wet bag, and changing pad, which will be very nice (and, incidentlly, much less expensive than a purchased bag, wet bag, or changing pad). A purchased pre-made SSC wouldn't give me that option.
The carrier is very comfortable to wear, espeically compared to my Mei Tai. There are no crazy straps flying everywhere, and there is lots of padding. The shoulder straps are nicely padded and the hip belt is padded with a closed-cell foam which is stiffer than normal foam and prevents the hip straps from digging into my sides like they do with my Mei Tai. It took me a bit to get the buckles and straps adjusted so they were comfortable, but once I got them right it has been very cozy. It's also been easy to get Norah in and out of.
What else is there to tell you? I bought my hardware from Outdoor Wilderness Fabrics. They were lovely to work with and I'm happy with what I received. Try to order with a friend if you can, though. Hardware for one carrier ran $11 and some change, but there is also a $2.50 handling charge if your order is under $20, plus it was $10 shipping. I doubled my order and got rid of the $2.50 handling charge plus my shipping didn't go up at all. Waaaaay better deal to buy hardware for 2.
I will likely use this carrier mostly for back carries in place of my Mei Tai. There is free buckle carrier pattern out there I'm considering trying out mostly because it doesn't have an internal panel and would therefore be better for nursing. But I won't be considering it probably until we start thinking about more babies, so it'll be awhile. That one is here. If anyone makes it, let me know what you think.
I think that's about all I have to report. I will leave you with two last photos of my gorgeous model, for your viewing pleasure. Thanks for looking!
Monday, April 12, 2010
When I Grow Up: Why I am Not a Loser
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to read the book A Million Miles In A Thousand Years by Donald Miller. I loved the general idea of this book. In summary, Miller tells us that it is our responsibility to make our lives good stories – stories worth telling – stories with meaning and direction, with love in action, with fear and overcoming, and maybe – if you’re me, anyways – a good deal of drama.
While I’m not entirely in agreement with his idea that I have a responsibility to God to live a good story, I agree that as a human I have a responsibility to myself, my community, and my family to live a good story. Plus I want to. I mean, how incredibly boring would it be to just hang out in front of the TV, never taking risks, never moving forward, never engaging yourself in the practice of just living? It would be nice and safe, but I think I’d claw off my face out of boredom.
However, there were some things about the book that pulled at me and made me wonder if maybe Miller wasn’t missing part of what I think makes my story a good one. For example, he didn’t seem to take into account the way the inbetween places just have to happen sometimes – how sometimes we’re inbetween things and paralyzed and we just can’t move forward, but these things ultimately somehow grow us in our story. I don’t think this is anything to apologize for. There are times when our souls have to rest and have to get bored and worked up and restless before we can be any good again. It is what it is. It doesn’t mean those times make your story a poor one.
There were a few other things I felt the book didn’t account for, not because Donald Miller would think I’m living a horrifically stupid story, but just because he’s not living the story I’m living and he was writing his own story – you know, like he should have been. No biggie, I still liked the book and I still like Donald Miller.
At any rate, we discussed this on a Tuesday night, and while I was talking about these thoughts on this book, my friend Audra said something to the effect of, “I’m so glad you went this way with it. I thought I was just about to get stuck thinking about how I don’t live a good story. I work in a day care and sometimes I feel so lame”. Or, she said something to that effect. It was two weeks and ten drinks ago, so I’m going with the paraphrase here.
*~*~*~*~*
Cuthbert has a theory that our lives can’t impact the world the way they would have able to 50 years ago. It sounds like pure cynicism up front, but then he keeps talking and you realize he really means it and he isn’t trying to be cynical. Cuthbert says that the world is so much bigger than it was 50 years ago. Technology has opened up the world in a way it has never been open before. We don’t just live in a local community – we live in a global community. And because everybody in the world has access to everybody else in the world, each person’s impact is smaller.
If you press Cuthbert, he will give you an example. He will tell you that his grandmother has memories to this day of one night when she hosted one specific party in her community and she was a star for one evening. These memories are a big deal to her – they represent something she did within her community that was something great, not only to her but to the entire community. People talked about it, people remembered it, people passed it on to their children and their grandchildren. It was one night - one party.
We can’t do this. Oh, we can throw parties – I do that all the time. But I can’t throw a party that’s going to enthrall my entire community and be the talk of the town for generations to come. The world is too big. My party is one party amongst a thousand other parties happening in town amongst 10,000 concerts in the US that people found on the web and flew to, amongst a zillion youtube videos being downloaded around the world at the same time I’m passing out marshmallows and graham crackers. The idea that I can do something great, at least in the way the world defines greatness, is a flawed idea. The world is too big; my backyard is too small. This is why I believe that the greatest thing I can do is to live my life in a way that inspires others to live their lives well – to live good stories. That’s all I’ve got. I’m too small for anything else, so I’m going to go with what I have, which is the capacity to publically live my life in a way that reflects my values. That’s it.
*~*~*~*~*
My generation was told when we were all small children that we could be anything we wanted to be when we grew up. We could do anything if we wanted it badly enough and if we worked hard enough at it.
Then we grew up.
And we are not what we wanted to be.
To quote Marilyn Manson (as it is clearly appropriate for 28 year-old women to do) we didn’t grow up to be big rock stars, celebrated victims of our fame.
And most of us didn’t grow up to be professional athletes. Or singers or astronauts or the President of the United States.
We did not grow up to be anything we wanted to be, and a good chunk of us are fairly disillusioned, disappointed, and chomping on SSRIs to help us deal with the perceived reality that we failed. We did not grow up to be anything we wanted to be. We either didn’t want it badly enough or we didn’t work hard enough and now we’re tracking flight luggage and typing grant proposals and making the rounds of the hospital halls doing whatever work we’ve found – the work that is not the anything we wanted to be – and we are depressed.
When I was a kid, I had a series of things I wanted to be. For awhile, I wanted to be a famous singer (inspired by Debbie Gibson, no doubt). When I got to high school I wanted to be a psychologist. Then I wanted to be an actor in a theatre. Then I wanted to be a social worker.
These are all fine and dandy. There’s nothing wrong with any of them, and I was told all my life I could be anything I wanted to be, so they were, in theory, all attainable. Except for the fact that I have a so-so singing voice, a personality so unbalanced I can barely allow myself to depend on me, moderate acting skills, and no patience whatsoever for the attitudes of generational poverty or the bureaucracy involved in social services. Basically, I would suck horribly at everything I thought I wanted to be.
I cannot be anything I wanted to be. I never had a chance. No amount of hard work or unbridled desire is going to make it possible for me to be a famous singer. No matter how badly I wanted it, I could not be a good psychologist. I just can’t. It isn’t going to happen.
Let me repeat this: I cannot be anything I want to be.
I can be a lot of things, many of which I would probably enjoy. I’m a grant proposal writer and I’m good at it and I like it – which all makes sense in light of the fact that my natural inclination has always been to write things. I’m a mom and I think I’m damn good at that, but then I’ve always been nurturing to the people I love. I think I’d be a decent public speaker, and probably not a horrible cook. There are a lot of things I can be.
But there are a lot of things I can’t be. Period.
While we were talking about this on a Tuesday, Audra told me, “I’m 26 years old and I work in a day care. I always feel like a loser when people want to know what I do.”
Audra is sweet and funny. She is responsible, considerate almost to a fault, open-minded, and demonstrates a child-like playfulness even in the light of things like $40 tequilla and the question of whether god exists. She’s a delight. She is not a loser. I would trust her with my child any day, because she is someone I can trust and a good person for children to be around. I’m betting Audra rocks it as a day care provider.
But Audra’s generation was told they could be anything they wanted to be, which raised the bar for them. Being able to be anything brings with it an expectation to be something great – and why not? If you can be anything in the world, surely you can be something great. But the world is too big, and Audra’s daycare is too small.
So Audra feels like a loser because she wipes tears and reads stories and gives morning snacks. She feels like a loser because she nurtures people’s children and keeps them safe and shows them love and provides a service that allows other women to enter the workforce if they so choose and work toward gender equality.
Are you hearing this? Audra feels like a loser.
This makes me very sad. Audra is not a loser.
*~*~*~*~*
Norah doesn’t talk much. I mean, she’s 14 months old. Her language skills are pretty limited. Unless you want to talk about Elmo or Cookie (Monster) or doggies or cheese, you’re out of luck. But one day Norah is going to be a better talker and someone is going to say to her, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And when she furrows her brow to think about it, they’re going to follow up with “You can be anything, you know, if you want it badly enough and you work hard enough”
And I will say, “No, you can’t Norah. You can’t be anything. You can be a lot of wonderful things, and you can do a great job at them, but you can’t be anything.”
And hopefully she will keep listening instead of thinking “Yowza, my mom is mean!” and disengaging.
Because then I will say, “Pay attention to the things you’re good at and that you love to do. Those are the things you’ll have the best chance at making a living with. Pay attention to those things when you decide what you want to be, because those are going to point you to the things you can do and that you can do well – the things you can be if you want them badly and if you work hard.”
And then no matter what she chooses to pursue, I will support her, even if she's horrific at it and all she gains is the knowledge that it's not really her thing. But I will not tell her the lie that she can be anything because I refuse to set her up for failure in that way. I refuse to make her feel like a loser for being unable to do things she shouldn’t be able to do anyways. I will not saddle her with that.
I didn’t grow up to be anything I wanted to be. I didn’t grow up to do something great. But I don’t feel like a loser. I shouldn’t have had those expectations in the first place. There are so many things I just can’t do, and the world is too big for me to be something great in the way the world defines greatness. I am what I am. I’m a writer, a mother, a person who desperately wants to inspire change and has nothing to work with but her own life. I’m a woman who desires community and works to make it happen - a person who tries her best to love on the hurting and broken. I am what I am. And I am not a loser.
While I’m not entirely in agreement with his idea that I have a responsibility to God to live a good story, I agree that as a human I have a responsibility to myself, my community, and my family to live a good story. Plus I want to. I mean, how incredibly boring would it be to just hang out in front of the TV, never taking risks, never moving forward, never engaging yourself in the practice of just living? It would be nice and safe, but I think I’d claw off my face out of boredom.
However, there were some things about the book that pulled at me and made me wonder if maybe Miller wasn’t missing part of what I think makes my story a good one. For example, he didn’t seem to take into account the way the inbetween places just have to happen sometimes – how sometimes we’re inbetween things and paralyzed and we just can’t move forward, but these things ultimately somehow grow us in our story. I don’t think this is anything to apologize for. There are times when our souls have to rest and have to get bored and worked up and restless before we can be any good again. It is what it is. It doesn’t mean those times make your story a poor one.
There were a few other things I felt the book didn’t account for, not because Donald Miller would think I’m living a horrifically stupid story, but just because he’s not living the story I’m living and he was writing his own story – you know, like he should have been. No biggie, I still liked the book and I still like Donald Miller.
At any rate, we discussed this on a Tuesday night, and while I was talking about these thoughts on this book, my friend Audra said something to the effect of, “I’m so glad you went this way with it. I thought I was just about to get stuck thinking about how I don’t live a good story. I work in a day care and sometimes I feel so lame”. Or, she said something to that effect. It was two weeks and ten drinks ago, so I’m going with the paraphrase here.
*~*~*~*~*
Cuthbert has a theory that our lives can’t impact the world the way they would have able to 50 years ago. It sounds like pure cynicism up front, but then he keeps talking and you realize he really means it and he isn’t trying to be cynical. Cuthbert says that the world is so much bigger than it was 50 years ago. Technology has opened up the world in a way it has never been open before. We don’t just live in a local community – we live in a global community. And because everybody in the world has access to everybody else in the world, each person’s impact is smaller.
If you press Cuthbert, he will give you an example. He will tell you that his grandmother has memories to this day of one night when she hosted one specific party in her community and she was a star for one evening. These memories are a big deal to her – they represent something she did within her community that was something great, not only to her but to the entire community. People talked about it, people remembered it, people passed it on to their children and their grandchildren. It was one night - one party.
We can’t do this. Oh, we can throw parties – I do that all the time. But I can’t throw a party that’s going to enthrall my entire community and be the talk of the town for generations to come. The world is too big. My party is one party amongst a thousand other parties happening in town amongst 10,000 concerts in the US that people found on the web and flew to, amongst a zillion youtube videos being downloaded around the world at the same time I’m passing out marshmallows and graham crackers. The idea that I can do something great, at least in the way the world defines greatness, is a flawed idea. The world is too big; my backyard is too small. This is why I believe that the greatest thing I can do is to live my life in a way that inspires others to live their lives well – to live good stories. That’s all I’ve got. I’m too small for anything else, so I’m going to go with what I have, which is the capacity to publically live my life in a way that reflects my values. That’s it.
*~*~*~*~*
My generation was told when we were all small children that we could be anything we wanted to be when we grew up. We could do anything if we wanted it badly enough and if we worked hard enough at it.
Then we grew up.
And we are not what we wanted to be.
To quote Marilyn Manson (as it is clearly appropriate for 28 year-old women to do) we didn’t grow up to be big rock stars, celebrated victims of our fame.
And most of us didn’t grow up to be professional athletes. Or singers or astronauts or the President of the United States.
We did not grow up to be anything we wanted to be, and a good chunk of us are fairly disillusioned, disappointed, and chomping on SSRIs to help us deal with the perceived reality that we failed. We did not grow up to be anything we wanted to be. We either didn’t want it badly enough or we didn’t work hard enough and now we’re tracking flight luggage and typing grant proposals and making the rounds of the hospital halls doing whatever work we’ve found – the work that is not the anything we wanted to be – and we are depressed.
When I was a kid, I had a series of things I wanted to be. For awhile, I wanted to be a famous singer (inspired by Debbie Gibson, no doubt). When I got to high school I wanted to be a psychologist. Then I wanted to be an actor in a theatre. Then I wanted to be a social worker.
These are all fine and dandy. There’s nothing wrong with any of them, and I was told all my life I could be anything I wanted to be, so they were, in theory, all attainable. Except for the fact that I have a so-so singing voice, a personality so unbalanced I can barely allow myself to depend on me, moderate acting skills, and no patience whatsoever for the attitudes of generational poverty or the bureaucracy involved in social services. Basically, I would suck horribly at everything I thought I wanted to be.
I cannot be anything I wanted to be. I never had a chance. No amount of hard work or unbridled desire is going to make it possible for me to be a famous singer. No matter how badly I wanted it, I could not be a good psychologist. I just can’t. It isn’t going to happen.
Let me repeat this: I cannot be anything I want to be.
I can be a lot of things, many of which I would probably enjoy. I’m a grant proposal writer and I’m good at it and I like it – which all makes sense in light of the fact that my natural inclination has always been to write things. I’m a mom and I think I’m damn good at that, but then I’ve always been nurturing to the people I love. I think I’d be a decent public speaker, and probably not a horrible cook. There are a lot of things I can be.
But there are a lot of things I can’t be. Period.
While we were talking about this on a Tuesday, Audra told me, “I’m 26 years old and I work in a day care. I always feel like a loser when people want to know what I do.”
Audra is sweet and funny. She is responsible, considerate almost to a fault, open-minded, and demonstrates a child-like playfulness even in the light of things like $40 tequilla and the question of whether god exists. She’s a delight. She is not a loser. I would trust her with my child any day, because she is someone I can trust and a good person for children to be around. I’m betting Audra rocks it as a day care provider.
But Audra’s generation was told they could be anything they wanted to be, which raised the bar for them. Being able to be anything brings with it an expectation to be something great – and why not? If you can be anything in the world, surely you can be something great. But the world is too big, and Audra’s daycare is too small.
So Audra feels like a loser because she wipes tears and reads stories and gives morning snacks. She feels like a loser because she nurtures people’s children and keeps them safe and shows them love and provides a service that allows other women to enter the workforce if they so choose and work toward gender equality.
Are you hearing this? Audra feels like a loser.
This makes me very sad. Audra is not a loser.
*~*~*~*~*
Norah doesn’t talk much. I mean, she’s 14 months old. Her language skills are pretty limited. Unless you want to talk about Elmo or Cookie (Monster) or doggies or cheese, you’re out of luck. But one day Norah is going to be a better talker and someone is going to say to her, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And when she furrows her brow to think about it, they’re going to follow up with “You can be anything, you know, if you want it badly enough and you work hard enough”
And I will say, “No, you can’t Norah. You can’t be anything. You can be a lot of wonderful things, and you can do a great job at them, but you can’t be anything.”
And hopefully she will keep listening instead of thinking “Yowza, my mom is mean!” and disengaging.
Because then I will say, “Pay attention to the things you’re good at and that you love to do. Those are the things you’ll have the best chance at making a living with. Pay attention to those things when you decide what you want to be, because those are going to point you to the things you can do and that you can do well – the things you can be if you want them badly and if you work hard.”
And then no matter what she chooses to pursue, I will support her, even if she's horrific at it and all she gains is the knowledge that it's not really her thing. But I will not tell her the lie that she can be anything because I refuse to set her up for failure in that way. I refuse to make her feel like a loser for being unable to do things she shouldn’t be able to do anyways. I will not saddle her with that.
I didn’t grow up to be anything I wanted to be. I didn’t grow up to do something great. But I don’t feel like a loser. I shouldn’t have had those expectations in the first place. There are so many things I just can’t do, and the world is too big for me to be something great in the way the world defines greatness. I am what I am. I’m a writer, a mother, a person who desperately wants to inspire change and has nothing to work with but her own life. I’m a woman who desires community and works to make it happen - a person who tries her best to love on the hurting and broken. I am what I am. And I am not a loser.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Cult Leaders of the World, Unite! (Cohousing, part II)
Wow, it’s been awhile! Sorry about my absence as of late. I have all the best intentions of keeping up with this blog and then crazy things happen. Since I’ve written last, somebody went on maternity leave at work, your dear little H got bombarded with extra tasks, and a large federal grant opportunity came up that had to be completed within 2 weeks and involved getting 8 churches/agencies together multiple times, and, oh, here’s a random one… some preachers wanted to re-baptize me. In a pond. ‘Cause, you know, the first baptism didn’t stick. Or something. I’m thinking of petitioning Jonas for hazard pay.
Needless to say, it’s been crazy lately and I’ve been spending most of my down time trying to make sure I don’t miss anything with Norah as she grows ever so quickly into a curious, high-energy little girl.
Anyway, I wanted to finish up with the cohousing piece I started… erm, two months ago. Sorry about that. So, here we go with part two of your cohousing primer!
Okay, are you still with me on this cohousing thing? Do you need a refresher? Here’s part one of my cohousing piece. Read it over…. do you have a picture of what cohousing looks like – or what it could look like for a community you could be involved in? Good.
Now you might be wondering to yourself, “Dear Lord, why in the world would I want to get involved with something like cohousing?” Or, more likely, you might be thinking to yourself, “Wow. H really is crazy. I’ve been suspecting it all these years, but now…”
Rest assured, I am not crazy. Or, well, rest partially assured. I may be slightly crazy, but not in regards to cohousing. There are a host of benefits to be had by living in cohousing:
Relationships and Support
Anyone who knows me well knows that I believe people are not meant to live in alone. And by ‘alone’ I don’t necessarily mean hiding out in an old shack in the middle of the woods shooting squirrels and drinking your own pee when it doesn’t rain enough. That could mean ‘alone’, too, I suppose, but that’s not what I’m getting at here. What I’m getting at is that I don’t think it is good for each individual or household in a given neighborhood to feel that they’ve got just themselves to rely on. I’ve got D and Norah at my house, and while I love them dearly, in the words of Kurt Vonnegut, they are not enough people. They simply aren’t. They can’t take care of everything for me. They can’t understand my momma or nursing struggles like Lisey or Mabel can. They can’t understand my need for an arts outlet – or the way I struggle with everyone expecting me to be so fucking balanced - the way Cuthbert can. They don’t bake with me: J does. They can’t photograph a wedding with me: Jack and Mateo can.
They just aren’t enough people. I believe people were made to live in community in a state of interdependence, and when that doesn’t happen things get out of whack. People get depressed. They feel lonely. They don’t feel important to other people and they don’t have the chance to make other people feel important. They often forget how to serve, and almost always forget how to let others serve them. They can’t get help with the things they aren’t good at and they have no one to offer help to with the things they are gifted at. It sucks.
Cohousing offers built-in community. You know most of your neighbors; you actually talk to most of them and have meaningful conversations on a regular basis. You find out who you can depend on for what, and you find the places where your skill set fits in. You get to talk, and you get to listen. You, in short, finally have a chance to get all those needs fulfilled that don’t get taken care of at home – not because your family isn’t good enough or doesn’t love you enough, but because they are simply not enough people. Cohousing is enough people.
Sharing of knowledge and skill base
Going along with the relationships and support idea, cohousing provides the opportunity to share knowledge and skills. Graham Meltzer, Ph D. and Cohousing Scholar, says, “In a conventional society, specialists tend to guard their expertise and protect the status and financial reward their position incurs. In cohousing, knowledge and skills are more readily shared. They become diffused throughout the community and contribute to the welfare and personal development of all.”
Don’t know how to grow a garden? The lady 3 houses down knows how and is more than happy to help you plant the community tomatoes (which she will also be more than happy to help you eat, come summer). Don’t know how to start your lawnmower? (wink, wink, you know who you are) Pop over and D will help. And at times it’s the other way around – you know something and you help others out. Either way, the sharing of knowledge and skills amongst a community is beneficial to everyone involved.
Accountability
Also going along with the relationships and support idea, the very structure of cohousing provides a sort of accountability. Community, when done well, nearly always provides accountability. Accountability to what? That depends on your community. My friends and I work to keep each other accountable for living out good stories that reflect who we really are and how we want to live. This works for us, because we live closely enough in community to know what is in each others’ hearts, and therefore, whether we are living out the stories that are important to us individually.
Cohousing offers accountability like this, but also much more tangible accountability. Cohousing requires that you fulfill the commitments you make to your community and that you give of yourself in order to meet community goals. For example, if you don’t pay your dues and you never volunteer for work on site improvements, and you never help prepare common meals, and you never…. well, participate, that will get noticed. And it will prompt important conversations – conversations about why you aren’t participating, what the community can do to help you get connected, what kind of growth you might be looking for, etc.
Accountability is great for the group – it gets things done and creates a cohesiveness that is important when living so closely with other people. But accountability in itself is a benefit to each individual. Holding oneself accountable to something bigger helps develop responsibility, further personal growth, and enhance relationship skills.
Cohousing is great for kids
While I haven’t seen any studies to support this, the general consensus seems to be that children who grow up in cohousing are typically smarter, more socially adept, and better problem solvers than most other kids. Which makes sense, if you think about the amount of community support provided to them, the vast number of opportunities to practice a wide array of social skills, and exposure to consensus-based decision making they experience in cohousing. And think of all the knowledge and skill sets they have available to them! Why, little Norah can learn martial arts from J, painting from Cuthbert, videography from Jack…. etc. Regardless of whether any studies eventually validate the merit of cohousing for kids, I can’t imagine it not being good for them.
And on that note, I would suppose it’s nice for the parents, too. Built in playmates! Child care tradeoffs! Common room space on rainy days! Perhaps I should tone down the enthusiasm a bit – the slightly frazzled momma beast is showing through.
Sustainable living
Cohousing communities create opportunities for sustainable living in a variety of different ways:
• Most cohousing communities create an atmosphere of sustainable living simply in their design. Individual homes are often smaller than typical homes due to the availability of the common house – who needs a huge dining room when you can throw your dinner parties in the common house? A community kitchen, dining area, playroom, library, etc, all eliminate the need for excessive space in individual homes.
• Many cohousing communities are designed to discourage excessive use of cars.
• Many cohousing communities design their homes and buildings to use green/renewable energy sources, and to reduce energy consumption.
• Most cohousing communities use sustainable and/or recycled building materials in construction and/or renovation.
I’m sure there are roughly a bazillion more great benefits of cohousing, but I’m just going to leave you with these big ones that stuck out to me. This is not to say that cohousing doesn’t have its challenges. Virginia Lore, a resident of Duwamish Cohousing in Seattle Washington says, “The truest thing I know about living in cohousing is that it’s tough. The next truest thing is that it’s worth it. The tough-to-worth-it ratio changes daily”.
I think anything worth doing is going to have a tough-to-worth-it ratio that’s in constant flux, but I can see where cohousing might have some challenges that are, um, unique. It is hard for me to imagine coming to consensus on EVERY. SINGLE. THING. with a group of other people. And I’m sure conflicts arise when people are living such close and interconnected lives – and I’m also sure people have different ways of dealing with conflicts, which can cause more conflicts….. and so on, and so on. People have differing parenting styles, political views, and opinions about what kind of mulch the common house shrubbery is going to need. There are big differences and little differences, but I’m sure they are all significant. I’m sure there are challenges.
Despite that, I strongly suspect that the tough-to-worth-it ratio leans heavily toward worth-it a good chunk of the time. At any rate, I’d like to find out first hand.
Needless to say, it’s been crazy lately and I’ve been spending most of my down time trying to make sure I don’t miss anything with Norah as she grows ever so quickly into a curious, high-energy little girl.
Anyway, I wanted to finish up with the cohousing piece I started… erm, two months ago. Sorry about that. So, here we go with part two of your cohousing primer!
Okay, are you still with me on this cohousing thing? Do you need a refresher? Here’s part one of my cohousing piece. Read it over…. do you have a picture of what cohousing looks like – or what it could look like for a community you could be involved in? Good.
Now you might be wondering to yourself, “Dear Lord, why in the world would I want to get involved with something like cohousing?” Or, more likely, you might be thinking to yourself, “Wow. H really is crazy. I’ve been suspecting it all these years, but now…”
Rest assured, I am not crazy. Or, well, rest partially assured. I may be slightly crazy, but not in regards to cohousing. There are a host of benefits to be had by living in cohousing:
Relationships and Support
Anyone who knows me well knows that I believe people are not meant to live in alone. And by ‘alone’ I don’t necessarily mean hiding out in an old shack in the middle of the woods shooting squirrels and drinking your own pee when it doesn’t rain enough. That could mean ‘alone’, too, I suppose, but that’s not what I’m getting at here. What I’m getting at is that I don’t think it is good for each individual or household in a given neighborhood to feel that they’ve got just themselves to rely on. I’ve got D and Norah at my house, and while I love them dearly, in the words of Kurt Vonnegut, they are not enough people. They simply aren’t. They can’t take care of everything for me. They can’t understand my momma or nursing struggles like Lisey or Mabel can. They can’t understand my need for an arts outlet – or the way I struggle with everyone expecting me to be so fucking balanced - the way Cuthbert can. They don’t bake with me: J does. They can’t photograph a wedding with me: Jack and Mateo can.
They just aren’t enough people. I believe people were made to live in community in a state of interdependence, and when that doesn’t happen things get out of whack. People get depressed. They feel lonely. They don’t feel important to other people and they don’t have the chance to make other people feel important. They often forget how to serve, and almost always forget how to let others serve them. They can’t get help with the things they aren’t good at and they have no one to offer help to with the things they are gifted at. It sucks.
Cohousing offers built-in community. You know most of your neighbors; you actually talk to most of them and have meaningful conversations on a regular basis. You find out who you can depend on for what, and you find the places where your skill set fits in. You get to talk, and you get to listen. You, in short, finally have a chance to get all those needs fulfilled that don’t get taken care of at home – not because your family isn’t good enough or doesn’t love you enough, but because they are simply not enough people. Cohousing is enough people.
Sharing of knowledge and skill base
Going along with the relationships and support idea, cohousing provides the opportunity to share knowledge and skills. Graham Meltzer, Ph D. and Cohousing Scholar, says, “In a conventional society, specialists tend to guard their expertise and protect the status and financial reward their position incurs. In cohousing, knowledge and skills are more readily shared. They become diffused throughout the community and contribute to the welfare and personal development of all.”
Don’t know how to grow a garden? The lady 3 houses down knows how and is more than happy to help you plant the community tomatoes (which she will also be more than happy to help you eat, come summer). Don’t know how to start your lawnmower? (wink, wink, you know who you are) Pop over and D will help. And at times it’s the other way around – you know something and you help others out. Either way, the sharing of knowledge and skills amongst a community is beneficial to everyone involved.
Accountability
Also going along with the relationships and support idea, the very structure of cohousing provides a sort of accountability. Community, when done well, nearly always provides accountability. Accountability to what? That depends on your community. My friends and I work to keep each other accountable for living out good stories that reflect who we really are and how we want to live. This works for us, because we live closely enough in community to know what is in each others’ hearts, and therefore, whether we are living out the stories that are important to us individually.
Cohousing offers accountability like this, but also much more tangible accountability. Cohousing requires that you fulfill the commitments you make to your community and that you give of yourself in order to meet community goals. For example, if you don’t pay your dues and you never volunteer for work on site improvements, and you never help prepare common meals, and you never…. well, participate, that will get noticed. And it will prompt important conversations – conversations about why you aren’t participating, what the community can do to help you get connected, what kind of growth you might be looking for, etc.
Accountability is great for the group – it gets things done and creates a cohesiveness that is important when living so closely with other people. But accountability in itself is a benefit to each individual. Holding oneself accountable to something bigger helps develop responsibility, further personal growth, and enhance relationship skills.
Cohousing is great for kids
While I haven’t seen any studies to support this, the general consensus seems to be that children who grow up in cohousing are typically smarter, more socially adept, and better problem solvers than most other kids. Which makes sense, if you think about the amount of community support provided to them, the vast number of opportunities to practice a wide array of social skills, and exposure to consensus-based decision making they experience in cohousing. And think of all the knowledge and skill sets they have available to them! Why, little Norah can learn martial arts from J, painting from Cuthbert, videography from Jack…. etc. Regardless of whether any studies eventually validate the merit of cohousing for kids, I can’t imagine it not being good for them.
And on that note, I would suppose it’s nice for the parents, too. Built in playmates! Child care tradeoffs! Common room space on rainy days! Perhaps I should tone down the enthusiasm a bit – the slightly frazzled momma beast is showing through.
Sustainable living
Cohousing communities create opportunities for sustainable living in a variety of different ways:
• Most cohousing communities create an atmosphere of sustainable living simply in their design. Individual homes are often smaller than typical homes due to the availability of the common house – who needs a huge dining room when you can throw your dinner parties in the common house? A community kitchen, dining area, playroom, library, etc, all eliminate the need for excessive space in individual homes.
• Many cohousing communities are designed to discourage excessive use of cars.
• Many cohousing communities design their homes and buildings to use green/renewable energy sources, and to reduce energy consumption.
• Most cohousing communities use sustainable and/or recycled building materials in construction and/or renovation.
I’m sure there are roughly a bazillion more great benefits of cohousing, but I’m just going to leave you with these big ones that stuck out to me. This is not to say that cohousing doesn’t have its challenges. Virginia Lore, a resident of Duwamish Cohousing in Seattle Washington says, “The truest thing I know about living in cohousing is that it’s tough. The next truest thing is that it’s worth it. The tough-to-worth-it ratio changes daily”.
I think anything worth doing is going to have a tough-to-worth-it ratio that’s in constant flux, but I can see where cohousing might have some challenges that are, um, unique. It is hard for me to imagine coming to consensus on EVERY. SINGLE. THING. with a group of other people. And I’m sure conflicts arise when people are living such close and interconnected lives – and I’m also sure people have different ways of dealing with conflicts, which can cause more conflicts….. and so on, and so on. People have differing parenting styles, political views, and opinions about what kind of mulch the common house shrubbery is going to need. There are big differences and little differences, but I’m sure they are all significant. I’m sure there are challenges.
Despite that, I strongly suspect that the tough-to-worth-it ratio leans heavily toward worth-it a good chunk of the time. At any rate, I’d like to find out first hand.
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