Collective living kind of fell into my lap.
In November 2010 I returned from a life-changing journey where I travelled by bike with a group of 17 people in the east coast of Canada, performing a play about environmental and social justice issues. As well as performing, we also operated as a collective. We had rotating tasks and chores, cooking squads, and consensus meetings. We were a functioning, mobile community. It was during this trip that I really discovered collective living, and realized that it was the way I wanted to live.
What struck me about living collectively during that trip was that it just made sense. We were able to accomplish so much, even during the darkest times of our tour. On the second day of our tour we were involved in an accident and lost one of our team. It was a tremendous blow to our newly formed community. After a few days, we began to think about what we should do next. Ultimately, we decided to resume the tour, and in the next few days after that, I was absolutely floored by how much we had accomplished. We got ourselves back on our feet, gave each other the emotional support we really needed, and within a week and half were back on our bikes. It was during this time that it really hit me how much sense it makes to live in a collective.
When I returned home (to Victoria, at the time), I was in shock. I was no longer a member of a collective, I was on my own. Though I had the support of my friends and family, I still felt alone. I sunk into a depression and, among other things, I knew that the answer was finding community again. I decided to move to Vancouver for a change of scene, though looking back I knew that if I hadn't found my current house, I would have probably been worse off than before. I had made arrangements to move in with a friend, but about two weeks before the 1st of the month, I received an email from the Beehive through the VCHN listserve that they were looking for a new housemate. I sent them an email right away, then flew off to Toronto to visit my family. While in Toronto, I had a phone conversation with someone who lived in the house and was invited to come for dinner when I returned to BC.
I arrived at the Beehive for dinner on a December night, after a few days of some of the worst anxiety I remember experiencing. It was a glimmer of hope after a very low time for me and a sign that my life was about to take a turn for the better. We had an incredible vegan dinner, a delicious chocolate cake, inspiring conversation and a cozy cup of tea in the living room with Donut (the cat) afterwards. I suddenly felt uplifted and the joy I knew I had for life seeped back into my step as I walked back to the hostel that night.
The next day I was told I could move in, and I took the opportunity. I am normally a basket case when it comes to decision making, but this time I had not a single doubt in my mind after telling them I would move in. I went back to Victoria for the holidays, in great anticipation for the moving day.
My first few months of living at the Beehive, I went through a lot of personal transformation, and experienced some horrible anxiety. Looking back, the struggles I had were a necessary step in the change I was experiencing in my life. Every Sunday at the Beehive, we have a house meeting and the first thing we do is a check-in. During these times when I was struggling with anxiety, I began to open up about a lot of different things to my housemates and I felt really, truly listened to and supported. I felt completely accepted in this house very, very quickly.
I think of the struggles we had on the bike tour, as well as the personal struggles I experienced earlier this year, when I read the M. Scott Peck quote from my previous post. I learned very early on at the beehive that I could communicate honestly with my housemates, and that my relationships with them went "deeper than the masks of composure." I also learned how to bring this honesty and down-to-earth quality with everyone I meet. My interactions with people since moving into the Beehive have become more honest and far, far more present.
This is one of the ways I believe that collective living is really, truly special. You not only make a commitment to eat together, share chores, and make a lighter impact on the environment. You make a commitment to be each others' emotional supports. This, combined with sharing values with everyone I live with and making a commitment to live out my values with the support of my housemates, has made life that much more meaningful and wonderful.
I struggle a lot with feeling settled in any place. No matter where I am, I always feel that I should be somewhere else. I've heard this is true of a lot of people in their 20s. But I feel confident that no matter where I end up in my life, I owe a lot to this box-shaped house, which now contains six beautiful people, three hilarious felines, and more plants and vegetables than I care to count.
With love and gratitude,
Lisi
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