It takes a village to raise a child.
At least, that’s what they used to say, but it no longer seems to be the case. Not where I live, anyway. Instead, we keep to ourselves. 20-somethings hang out with other 20-somethings, young couples with other young couples. Multi-generational community isn’t really a phrase we toss around.
While we still live within designated communities, we seem to have lost the connection it used to signify. You can thank the attached garage for that. Perhaps I’m jaded from parking outside all these years, but in all seriousness, I’m not kidding. The garage has allowed us to leave our homes without even venturing outside, to drive away and return again without using our front door.
We have discovered a way to live together in proximity and yet be so very isolated: the paradox of the global village. Thank you, technology.
Amidst this reality, the concept of co-housing is on the rise. Well, it’s been around for a while actually; it’s an affordable solution to rising housing costs, and it addresses the issue of loneliness in our society. Living together, sharing meals, space, amenities, and the common goal of connectedness, intentional communities are providing an alternative to our individualistic lifestyle. And it’s a good thing. Biblical even.
As an individual pursuing a career in architecture, and as someone who has experienced the positives of communal living, I can’t help but think design offers hope for the future. But what about today? Even if I was a successful architect at this very moment, it is not as if tearing down all existing structures (and garages) is the most efficient way to implement change. Realistically and economically, it doesn’t make sense. So how do we work with what we have?
I believe it starts with opening a door: yours. And perhaps knocking on the one next to it. We already live within communities; we’ve just stopped having the village mentality. Instead of driving to the store for that extra ingredient, why not try next door? People still bake, as far as I know. After all, what are we afraid of?
Apparently we’re afraid of something, because strangely it seems that the only day of the year we are willing to knock on our neighbour’s door is on October 31st in pursuit of candy. Which, personally I find quite odd and a bit ironic. If you are bold enough to knock on a stranger’s door in a pumpkin costume, what is so different about the other 364 days of the year?
Community exists outside your door. It’s just not wrapped up and tied with a bow. It takes work, effort, and maybe some awkward conversations. While we can blame our cultural tendency to be independently self-focused, I wonder how many of us are just unwilling to put in the effort. Perhaps we can’t be bothered.
I’m guilty, like everyone else. I don’t know my neighbours well. Granted, I’ve just moved, but my track record isn’t any better. I’ve never really been good at this, and I have no excuse. And when I ask myself why, I can’t seem to quite explain it. I thought the girl next door was supposed to be sweet. But how am I ever going to know if I never even meet her?
Flickr photo (cc) by Phil Burns
