A Yurt, A Yak, and You...

I saw a friend recently whom I hadn’t seen in some time.  In the process of catching up, I told her of our mission to visit ecovillages around the globe, to research them and interview their residents and to sort of “try on” life in intentional communities such as these. 

This was probably the first time she heard me talking about such things, especially in terms of a new life mission.  I mean, we’d talked about gardening before but here I was rambling on about permaculture (starting at the beginning and going all the way to Findhorn) and how I want to blog about the “inner journey” involved in living authentically in intentional community. 

I said that we are looking for a way to create a life in which we have a minimal “footprint” in terms of impact on the earth, and cooperate with others as well as the land for our sustenance so that when we are living in post-oil society, we will be equipped to produce food and other resources.  She listened thoughtfully, as is her way, and then declared the notion a noble one, adding, “Somebody’s got to do it”.

When I laughed at this, she looked up and said, “No, I’m serious.”

This friend is a doctor, the kind of doctor you feel really lucky to find.  She’s up on all the current research and is also well versed in the offerings of natural remedies.  She often helps people navigate the otherwise murky waters of health choices.  I’m lucky enough to work with some of her patients and know that their experience of her is the same as mine- that she listens with such genuine concern and interest that you literally feel compassion coming from her.  She grasps the big picture of a situation and can help break it down so you need not be overwhelmed.  She has a gentleness that you can wrap around you, and still carries the authority of a wise woman who knows the worth of her words.  So when she declared our mission a noble and necessary one, I felt a deep sense of affirmation of the worth of our venture.  And when she came up with the title for this blog and challenged me to post it, I said, “Done!”

It happened like this:  we were talking about the notion of living off the land and also growing older (I’ll admit it - part of the allure of living in community is that at my age, by the time I learn to do everything I need to do to be self-sufficient, I may not be able to do it on my own anymore!).  How the dream of retiring someday to the old family homestead becomes harder to realize in today’s economy; that people are working harder and for more years to provide for a “comfortable” retirement, and how tempting it is to settle for uncomfortable retirement just to get a break from the exhaustion of working nonstop.

I mentioned that, earlier this summer, we’d almost bought a used yurt for eight thousand dollars.  At the time we’d just given up on the notion of home ownership, at least in our current town, in deference to our real dream to homestead or join an existing community.  I said the thought was that whatever happens and wherever we are, we’d have a place to live, comfortably or otherwise.  “You’d need a yak too,” my erstwhile friend pointed out.  We locked eyes and chuckled together.  “It sounds like a Valentine. ‘All I need is a yurt, a yak, and you’...”.

Of course every day since this conversation I’ve struggled with the fact that this isolationist picture really appeals to me in some sense, kind of blowing the community aspect of my proclaimed wishes right off the map.  After a long sleepless night under our noisy night-owl neighbors, with whom every effort at problem-solving and productive confrontation has failed so bitterly that it’s prompted another post titled, “When the Highroad Bites”,  it is so easy to picture myself cuddled up with my loved one, sipping yak milk in front of the woodstove in the middle of our yurt, in the middle of our garden in the middle of a field in the middle of some land far, far away...

But of course that’s another story.

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