Member Intro – Joyce
It started with a Facebook post.
The timing probably was a factor; in early 2021, after a year of Covid-related stress and despair, I was hungry to connect with people and build something. Before the pandemic, my partner, Ryan, and I had been trying to find a path out of our current living situation, but it’s been difficult. Neither one of us wants to go to the trouble and expense of moving just to encounter the same things we’re trying to leave behind us here.
Ryan and I also share an ambivalence toward many of our culture’s traditional milestones. Things like getting married, buying a house, and having children aren’t big priorities for us. But without the roadmap that those milestones provide, we’ve found ourselves uncertain about where to go or what to do next. Our inner uncertainty is magnified by the uncertainty in the world around us: unstable and mystifying housing markets, lack of social safety nets, and job prospects that seem largely misaligned with our values.
The first time I saw the fateful Facebook post, I did end up scrolling away. Living in an intentional community or commune has been a dream of mine for as long as I’ve known they existed. I’ve spent lots of time on the internet looking at those sites where you volunteer to work on a farm in exchange for room and board. My fear of inadvertently joining a cult has kept me from signing up.
For me, it’s mostly about community. The farm aspect is a big part of this dream, but it centers around being connected with people. That connection is something I’ve struggled with as a person who is autistic, disabled, and generally awkward around people. It may seem counterintuitive to join up with a group of people I’ve never met, but I figured that wanting to build an intentional community is a pretty big thing to have in common.
The second time I saw the post, Ryan was sitting on the couch with me. I looked at him and said, “Hey, there’s this crazy thing on Facebook I want to tell you about.” I read the post out loud and let it hang in the air.
“That is a crazy thing,” he agreed. “Where did you say the property is located?”
We combed over the details in the post, neither one of us betraying too much excitement or interest. In his post, Peter said to contact him for more information, and Ryan and I both wanted to know more.
Before this, Peter and I had never met or chatted. I’m not even sure how we became Facebook friends. I don’t remember sending him a friend request, and I was slightly mystified when his posts had started showing up on my timeline. So, it was a little awkward for me to send that first message.
Peter and I chatted, going back and forth about this project and our general ideas about community and such. I was satisfied that this was not a cult, and he seemed satisfied that I would fit with the existing group, so he invited me to join their discord server.
Ryan and I agreed that we would take this one step at a time and see what happened. With every new piece of information, every new chat, we would pore over the details and talk about whether or not this was a good idea for us. Is this totally crazy? What are the risks? How are those risks being managed? Who is involved in this project, and do we get along with them?
Ultimately, I became involved with Collective Spaces one conversation, one step, one decision at a time. Taken as a whole, the idea of buying property with people I haven’t met without any clearly defined goals or timelines still sounds pretty far-fetched. But it feels right.
Building this community is work, but it also feels meaningful and joyful. I still feel like I’m making some pretty big decisions without much of a roadmap, but it’s a lot less scary when I’m with a group of people who are all committed to this project, our shared vision, and each other.