From Act of Faith to Beacon of Hope

From earlier in the week …

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It’s Monday morning and we’re on a high from a weekend-long collaborative design workshop. Guided by a professional facilitator, our CoHousing Houston community worked with our architects to align on a shared vision for the common amenities in our project. It was a surprisingly exhilarating experience for so many hours spent parked in front of a Zoom screen.

This would be a tall order under any circumstances for any group of people with relatively little shared history, mostly zero experience living in community and still stubbing our toes on working with consensus.

When you layer in 2020 COVID dynamics it might seem like a stretch too far. We haven’t even met our post-COVID new joiners in person. Lively pot-luck social-cum-business gatherings have been downgraded to the flatness and boxiness of Zoom galleries with tightly scripted agendas.

I’m mystified by this uplifted feeling after ten hours of Zooming with 18 people. I was fully expecting to be depleted and cranky at best and thoughts of “I can’t do this any longer” at worst.

So what happened?

Investing significant time and treasure in the early stages of a forming cohousing community is an act of faith. A core group of us have been working on this for over three years now. We had finally reached the point where we had land under contract, the legal structure was in place a date was set for the signing of legal documents plus the first sizable down payments made, and the timetable for face-to-face design workshop weekends was fixed in our calendars.

It was all systems GO, then the COVID lockdown burst in on the scene.

Do we postpone? Do we slow down? The answer was a resounding NO. We will not be deterred. Let’s press ahead. We have great momentum. Carpe diem, and all that — and anyway, this virus thing won’t last forever.

“Onward through the fog”, as they like to say in Austin, Texas.

Four months later, we’re Zoom-weary, we miss the contagious energy of a group gathering, some are technology frazzled and others are suffering financial fears. The idea of even seeing people face-to-face, let alone living in a closer community together is seeming more and more remote and nostalgic. It’s a like a faded painting which we can no longer visualize in its original vibrant colors.

Yet we carry on in faith.

Then this virtual design weekend happened. I’m sure if we were honest about it, nobody was really looking forward to all those hours staring at the tidy framed grid of Zoom screens. Ugh.

Yet we all showed up ready to participate.

We very quickly found ourselves imagineering an oasis of community living.

This was going to be better than expected …

We shared pictures of communal dinning and living. We dreamed of shared drinks on the rooftop terrace overlooking the treetops of the neighborhood at sunset. We placed ourselves in the meditation space, the reading nooks and even hanging out around a pool. We felt the joy of bumping into each other in the mail room, distracting someone cooking in the community kitchen and shooing the noisy youngsters into the kids cave after dinner.  We dreamed of group woodworking and ceramic projects and borrowing bikes from each other.

We spent the whole weekend living in a world we long for and cannot see being lived out anywhere on the planet right now. It’s a world filled with the things we have given up these past few months.

It’s a place where we can channel our dreams for a better future.

So many of our social institutions and structures are being eroded by lack of connections. What will be left standing on the other side of the pandemic? All the places that have knit us together — what can we count on still being there? Even some of the basic foundations of our society like classrooms, churches, concerts, plays — what will they look like?

We can’t predict or control many of these broader outcomes, but this weekend we brought to life a sparkly alternative to an otherwise bleak forecast. We can see this more clearly now, we can see the road map to getting there and we can visualize a vibrant oasis with us in it.

What had felt like an act of faith in a risky social experiment has morphed into a beacon of hope.

It’s called CoHousing Houston. We believe we can make this happen.

If you’re curious, check us out at cohousinghouston.com or under cohousinghouston on Facebook. There’s room for more!

 

Forbidden Fireworks popping off all around

It turned out that we didn’t need to find a distanced vantage point to last night’s Freedom over Texas spectacle downtown. All we had to do was to step out into our own street to see some fireworks.

There were rockets aplenty lighting up the skies above our neighborhood. Unplanned pockets of firework enthusiasts erupted all around us. Erratic bursts of crackling, pops and booms came from over the fence, down the road and through the trees.

The sounds and sites took me back many decades before sensible city ordinances put the kibosh on backyard July 4th celebrations. It was heart-warming.

A few days ago I remember wondering if the number of PSAs about firework restrictions inside the city limits was on the increase this year, or am I just paying closer attention to the news? I didn’t think that much about it until the sun was setting on our evening walk and we started hearing some pops here and there. Aha! Some smart person somewhere was tipped off — hence the PSAs. How did they know?

Yes! It’s going to be more interesting tonight than we expected. How exciting. I’m completely onboard with all our normal safety measures, and I hope that nobody was injured last night. But, we needed a collective expression of some measure of “freedom” on a hot balmy night when a mask order had just been declared, gatherings of more than 10 had been banned and the parks had been closed.

So when the firework symphony got into full swing after dark, we put on our masks, and strolled through the dark streets. What a festival of sparkles in the sky and a liberating sense that we’d taken something back that had been taken away from us.

A little bit of magic returned to the day. July 4th, 2020 didn’t turn out as deadly dull as expected.

The only thing that would have made it even better would have been having my own sparkler to run around with on the lawn making pretty patterns in the night. Remember doing that?

Time to rewire “temporary”

Note to self:

2020 is half over. It’s time to get out of idle and shift into gear again.

Enough of “waiting” to pick up and carry on … until this …

Enough of “postponing” life events … until that …

Enough of “suspending” connections … until the other …

I’ve been thinking this is temporary. Just wait it out. Soon enough we will be able to pick up where we left off, and carry on as usual — mostly. In the meantime, four months have flown by and it’s looking like we’re in this for the long-haul. A nebulous soon has turned into a nebulous distant future – maybe even 2021. I’m pushing myself to consider this possibility – while also not having a panic attack about it.

Do I want to continue living like this another year? Absolutely not.

Does this mean, I’m going to cast all care to the wind and sport mask-less bravado? Also, absolutely not.

I’m working on re-wiring my own personal internal thinking about how I arrange my life. Staying within the bounds of COVID safety to do all the things I want to do, involves greater effort, greater planning and greater discomfort. Thus far, I’ve made rather lazy and comfort-seeking decisions behind the veil of caution, comfort and lack of urgency.

Rejecting Zoom invites, because I might self-combust if I have to sit in front of the screen another hour. Not making the effort to arrange for creative outings, because … well … it takes effort. Forgetting to call people I would normally collide with in my daily comings and goings, because out of sight is out of mind. Dragging my feet to invite others to social distance with me, because it’s hot and buggy outside these days – and muggy too on the Texas gulf coast. Pushing things off til tomorrow, because there’s no sense of urgency for today.

Do I want to be taking inventory at the end of 2020, and see the whole year was a holding pattern? Maybe one year is fleeting in the grand scheme of time, but the sands of time on my personal clock are not endless.

I need a paradigm shift. I don’t have lots of answers yet, but I know “Awareness is the greatest agent for change” – thanks for that thought Eckhardt Tolle.

On a whim, I cycled by a friend’s condo yesterday, called her on the phone and asked her to step out on the balcony. She’s not in a position to social distance, so we waved and chatted on the phone. Even though she was 14 floors up and I was standing on a busy street corner, it felt more real and intimate than a Zoom session. More of this …

It gave me a real bounce. I hope it did her too.

The spontaneous balcony visit was on the way home from a patio coffee shop visit with a friend I haven’t seen in person since late last year. It was a multi-sensory technicolor experience compared to the flat world of emails and Facebook posts. We could laugh, catch up, wander down assorted paths of conversation, recycle topics, chatter and debate and go back-and-forth in real-time. More of this too …

It was invigorating for me. I hope she feels the same.

Working on it …

Non-Zoom ideas most welcome 🙂

Our Buddy Bubble Breakout to the Beach

Galveston BeachWe swooped in like Ghostbusters with our masks on, armed with bottles of disinfectant spray. After mastering the tricky keypad entry lock, we made haste to open windows and doors. The sea breeze freed the house of any trapped droplets in the air and we expunged the rest with our arsenal of sanitizing weapons of germ destruction. Yes, the owner did assure me that the cleaning service was going to be similarly attentive to disinfecting the place between visitors, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Once the space was claimed for our own, we shed our masks and packed away the disinfectants and proceeded to nest-in. The waves gently churned in the background. Looking out the window there was only a small strip of sand dunes separating us from the beach and the Gulf of Mexico. The sea air filled our lungs and our souls. It was a fresh drink of tranquility.

COVID-19 was packed away out of sight in the car — removed from our reality.

The next three days we interspersed reading, napping, cooking, games, and happy hours with l-o-n-g walks on the beach.

The first day we still reacted to our various newsfeeds buzzing on smartphones, but these gradually lost their grip and were left behind. At first we were struck by groupings on the beach with no care for social distancing or masks, but that soon receded from our consciousness too.  Who cares? The conversation drifted to other areas of interest as we allowed the COVID drip-drip to temporarily dry up. Who’s Corona anyway?

With every tide the virus was carried further out to sea. With every walk on the sand we returned closer to nature. With every elaborate cooking event we recaptured a delight in our senses. With every nap we restored a deeper calm.  With every evening sunset we reconnected with the here and now.

We tasted life as we knew it before this virus torpedoed our world, and it was good. I hadn’t realized how much the virus had penetrated my psyche and my overall sense of well-being until I managed to unplug from it. My obsessive FitBit sleep tracking finally yielded the percentages of REM and Deep sleep I strive for. That was a eureka moment. Proof positive of the restorative impact of our COVID breakout.

Now we’re back in the city. The frog is back in the pot of water on the stove — the heat is cranking up again.

I’m planning our next escape retreat. Be well dear readers.