I don’t feel qualified to write this post. I’ve rewritten and revised it over half-a-dozen times. Despite my hesitation, I’m compelled to share. Why? Because community is an essential part of well-being and deepening community is one of the most immediate actions one can take to improve survival in this world. Bold statement, I know.
One of the greatest helps since being diagnosed with cancer has been community. Community has been a significant part of my life for a long time, even if I didn’t always acknowledge it.
In my teens and twenties, I placed a high value on independence. I got a car shortly after turning sixteen, and loved being able to get myself around. At some point in those years of discovering my independence, I found myself less interested in the clothes and entertainment my “popular” peers were interested in. I would go to the mall, movies and coffee-shops on my own if I wanted. I even read up on living off the land, how to grow soy and hemp, and how to forage. I never needed to ask for help, and thought that doing so was a weakness. I saw it as an asset that I didn’t need to rely on anyone else.
Truth be told, I relied heavily on others. Not just material reliance, but reliance on the acceptance from others too. I didn’t realize it.
But with time has come a different understanding of the world. While I am grateful for those years spent getting to know myself through the search for independence, my values have shifted much more towards community and interdependence. By this, I mean the various clusters of beings who are connected by a common root and grow together. These beings, some of whom I know deeply and others whom I barely know, have helped navigate these difficult and magnificent times of my life.
There are communities of shared interests, like that which I found in community radio and music. Without fully realizing at the time, working in radio was about community more than anything else. Here, a diverse mix of people come together to share something they love. I wouldn’t (still don’t) consider myself a community builder, but moving into this community space at a young age showed me so much about listening, sharing, gathering, and showing up.
There are communities of shared geography, like the beautiful neighbourhoods I’ve chosen to live in. These vibrant communities are home to friends and familiar faces. Like I said, I’m no community builder, but I do benefit from the work others have done to create exciting community spaces where I can participate in building community. I love participating. I love going to my neighbourhood coffee shop and making small talk. I’ve followed the stories of babies being born to starting school, and so much more. I frequently run into neighbours and friends on my walks and it is one of the most magical feelings. Admittedly, sometimes I’m too caught up in my own thoughts to say hi, sometimes it’s just a smile and wave, and sometimes it turns into a half-hour conversation. My body bubbles with joy after even the smallest encounters. I’m amazed at the generosity of people I hardly know extending their help to me this last year.
There are communities of shared struggle, like the cancer community. A close community that allows the sharing of personal stories, struggles, and successes.
As I’ve been appreciating community more and more over previous years, I’ve come to make some observations. I’ve noticed how communities shift, change, and adapt to be what’s needed in the moment. People come, stay, go, and return at different frequencies. Communities form and dissolve, ebb and flow, like tides. I’ve noticed the way everyone contributes in different ways to holding and weaving the space. I’ve noticed the benefits of showing up, and creating a welcoming environment for others to do so too. I’ve noticed that it helps to throw out the scorecard: to give what I can when I can without needing the deed returned, and to accept help graciously. Most importantly, I’ve noticed the brilliance with which communities emerge over time spent caring and sharing together. It doesn’t always have to be heavy, and nor should it be. But it does take time.
I’m heading in for surgery very soon. In some ways, I feel like I’m stepping away from my communities as I recover. I’ve put volunteering on hold and won’t be stopping into my neighbourhood coffee shop. But, in other ways, I am deepening into my community by allowing friends and neighbours to support me when I need help. It’s a very strange feeling for someone who’s valued independence for so long, but I’m doing my best to get more comfortable.
Kat Dornian 