Community is the Answer
As a solo entrepreneur who has just recently found her new ‘nest,’ in a new country and culture whose ways I have yet to learn, and where I don’t (yet) speak the language very well, I spend a lot of time alone. Yes, I enjoy my own company. I also crave, and thrive in, community!
I got intense doses of that this summer, in ways that reinforce not only why I will be intent on cultivating community here in my new nesting spot and continuing to nurture community through my Sidecar adventures.
How community showed up for me this summer:
· Libby, a friend from Montana who now lives on the island of Ile Molene off the coast of Brittany (I’ve written about this magical place before), threw a fete to commemorate the life of her now-deceased husband, and to thank the Molene community for their support, both when he was dying and since. A nod to her Western roots, she brought in a country western band and a country line dance instructor for the occasion. Everyone on the island was invited; most seemed to show up, judging by the crowd – driven in no small part by curiosity about line dancing. It didn’t take long for that curiosity to turn into gleeful participation. We danced the night away, the ‘we’ including: 12-year-old boys; 80 year old women; the physically gifted, the mobility challenged; mostly islanders; a handful of Libby’s friends from elsewhere (hence, moi). Island living can have its challenges, including co-existing with others that may have sharply different habits and viewpoints than you. All this seemed forgotten on this one night of communal exuberance. I hope to hear tales of antagonisms forgiven, new friendships kindled, different kinds of conversations engaged in as a result of this collective jolt of joy.
· Red Lodge, Montana was named this year’s “most charming small town in the USA” by insuremytrip.com. If you’re lucky enough to have visited Red Lodge, you’ll get why it won this recognition. It’s quintessential America: main street, mom-and-pop shops, down-home friendliness, nestled in a beautiful valley surrounded by gorgeous mountain ranges. The McNamer family gathered for a reunion there this summer, auspiciously taking place over the July 4 weekend, when the town pulled out all the stops to honor the 250th birthday of the U.S., including a rodeo, parade, and fireworks. As on Ile Molene, not everyone in Red Lodge agrees with one another on political issues or how to live their lives. Still, I was struck by the friendliness and good will I encountered in my interactions with community members and fellow visitors. We didn’t discuss our differences. We commented on the amazing weather, the jaw-dropping beauty of our surroundings, the awe-inspiring talents of the rodeo professionals, the relative merits of huckleberry vs chocolate ice cream sandwiches (genius idea: what about a mix?!). In this charming container of a small town, the better angels of our shared humanity came alive. I’ve now dropped the narrative that the US is a complete sh*t show these days. I’ve encountered too much evidence to the contrary.
· I am not necessarily a sports nut, though the World Cup enthralled me. I wasn’t expecting this, being woefully ignorant of the sport’s finer points, and especially given the lead up to the event, with tales of corruption and fears that players and fans from some countries wouldn’t be welcomed. I believe many of my fellow Americans have been deeply hungry for hope, for joy, for a sense of new possibilities - for themselves, their own country, the world. The World Cup delivered on that. From the way local communities welcomed in teams, sparking mutual curiosity and respect, to the unexpected outcomes of games, where underdogs triumphed, to the collective effervescence of fans when teams performed remarkable feats, to those beautiful moments of humility, when players from opposite teams embraced one another at the conclusion of hard-fought matches, signalling that their mutual love of the game and respect for one another is more important than the competition .... The World Cup showed humanity at its finest.
What might happen when we put aside our differences, even for just an evening, and let ourselves enjoy one another’s company? When we can focus on something that’s bigger than us – a collective moment of joy, the grandeur of nature, a shared human bond?
As climate change and pandemics and AI and global conflicts make painfully clear, we all have a stake in matters that cross communities and borders. We can’t afford to isolate ourselves in an effort to protect against these global issues; we couldn’t if we tried. Even those with lunar aspirations are living in the same galaxy.
I understand why many of us are wary of communing. Those connecting muscles atrophied over the COVID pandemic; divisive issues like those named above have done our lingering communal yearnings no favors. And yet ... I don’t see a better way to get through ongoing global challenges than to remind ourselves of our shared humanity, discover and focus on our common bonds, and find opportunities for collective (hopefully uplifting) experiences that can minimize our differences, at least long enough to enjoy each others’ company for a while. After all, whether we like it or not, we’re all in this together. We might as well start acting like that matters.
I am so grateful for my Sidecar community, and look forward to continuing practices that cultivate our communing muscles while introducing some new ways to gather and connect.
Look for more information on this new season of Sidecar Counsel in an upcoming Dispatch.
See you down the road a-piece.
Bridget
