Monday, May 19, 2014

Being here

Spring flicked by in heartbeat, and here we sit in summer -- maybe not by official calendrical standards, but certainly according to colleges and thermometers. I have been on the road (or, in some cases, in the air) for a good chunk of my weekends ever since temperatures started rising. During the workweek, I have been occupied with spring appeals and phone calls and special projects. My planner filled up to capacity, I found myself with little down time. Hence the fleeting passage of months… and the absence of a blog post.


Not that I’m making excuses. (<-- Definitely making excuses.)


Anyway, after a tortuously long winter (the polar vortices would hit the year I go north), spring fairly skipped by and plopped us three months from the end of the intern year, which smacked all of us with a sudden sense of anxiety. Most of my housemates are trying to figure out jobs for next year, and even those of us who aren’t do not find impending transition very worry-free. For my part, I had plenty of paperwork to fill out, reflection essays to complete, and registration to finalize. The preparations have begun.


This is the point when year-long communities like ours start to dissolve.


We were warned about this. At the very beginning of our tenure, as we constructed our covenant and met with sage experts on community living, we repeatedly heard how crucial it is that we remain committed to and engaged in our life together up until the day we go our separate ways. We all nodded, assuming that it would be a piece of cake if we thought and talked about it enough.


But it’s not that simple. I’ve been there before. Just a couple of years ago, I was in the final leg of my Young Adult Volunteer journey preparing, just like I am now, to attend Columbia in the fall. While I busied myself applying for scholarships and driving to campus to eyeball my apartment for the first time, my housemates spent hours on their computers job shopping. We quarantined ourselves as we sorted out our logistics and imagined what futures would greet us come the end of August. What separate futures, that is. Despite the insistence of veteran Dwellers that we stay firmly grounded in the community, we started shooting off before it was even time to go. It was kind of the instinctive route, to be honest. Disengagement happens naturally.


This time around, though, it happened even sooner than I expected. Being gone so much this spring uprooted me from my home base and my fellow interns, to a certain extent, and by the time I was here more consistently, everyone was doing their planning. Feeling slightly out of place amidst the flurry of job hunting, a little bit homesick for Atlanta (our late spring didn’t help with that), and weary of the hard work that goes into community life, I mentally threw my hands up and called it a day.


It didn’t take long for guilt to kick in, though, and that guilt was quickly followed by healthy perspective. Every community goes through cycles; it’s whether or not we choose to stay in it that matters. I made a commitment to this community when I came here. I committed to loving them, supporting them and allowing them to support me, laughing raucously with them on the good days, walking alongside them on the rough days, praying with them, working with them, getting frustrated with them, working through conflict with them, and sticking with them even when I feel like calling it quits. That is, by and large, what the “intentional” in “intentional community” means.


So much about this family of interns brings me joy. Sure, we still have house meetings, which are some of the least fun things ever, but we also play games and watch movies and laugh our heads off and read Harry Potter out loud and eat donuts and go on adventures and dive into deep and fruitful conversations and rally around each other during times of loss, stress, or triumph. We tease each other and teach each other. We are lucky to be here with each other.


This is the point in the year when communities like ours usually start to disintegrate. It’s up to us whether we’re going to let that happen. As for me, I’ve resolved to stay in it this time. It will require extra effort, but it's work that's worth it. I am excited for the changes ahead, but I refuse to let the future divorce me from such a terrific present.