I got to go on a mama’s playdate this evening with my dear friend LD. She and I have a hard time getting together because, as we learned tonight, we’re both really home bodies and have to force ourselves out into the world. We’re both really very social creatures, it’s the actual putting on of shoes and the like that we find a wee bit troublesome. But we managed to overcome last night and ended up at a lovely little tea house in town where we stayed until way beyond when you would think a tea house would be open.
And through all the chit chat about kids and family and the future and everything else that goes along with those things, we found the conversation kept wending its way back to the subject of community. Talking about the Story Corps project, about making sure to record the precious stories in our parents and grandparents memories. All of it coming back to the simple idea of tracking and honoring the threads and history that create our community, whatever or wherever that may be.
It’s a subject that has had deep personal meaning to me for as long as I can remember. My desire for a big family stems from my need and want of community. I loved my small college and the small sorority that I joined because of the inherent community. I reach out to the kindred spirits around me in the hopes of creating community. One that is fearless in its support, unhindered by self inflicted constraints and thriving with its own vibrant life force.
I’m sure this all sounds a bit woo woo and mushy for someone as concrete as I typically am. But I think the idea of community itself is a bit on the mushy side. I think it defies definition in so many ways because it is utterly subjective. But it is so vitally important to me and the way I choose to exist in the world. And I think it’s a larger conversation that needs to be bumped up in the realm of importance and priorities. Now if I could just figure out how to get it started.
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