Thoughts on Cohousing

Cohousing is filled with all kinds of unusual questions and strange concerns.

I find myself wondering if I should hang out in the kitchen doing homeschool with Mane at the table in order to give the young couple some space in the the living room...or if it drives them nuts that I'm always in the kitchen when they want to cook (or shower, since the bathroom is right off the kitchen).

I wonder whether we should ask them to join us for everything, if they're tired of being bothered, or if they'll feel left out if we don't ask.

I wonder if we should say goodnight at night or if we should leave them alone.

When they're quiet, we wonder if they're ok or just sleepy or busy.

I wonder if I talk too much. And then I back off. And then I wonder if I haven't said enough.

We wonder if we should stay home when they're home in order to spend time with them or if they'd like to have the house to themselves.

And then. Then...I realize that we wonder and worry too much. It's ok to just be ourselves. We're all loving people with a lot of care and respect for each other. If we wonder, we should ask. Direct communication works amazingly well.

That is all.

Why Co-Housing?

The author of Little House on a Small Planet, Shay Salomen, writes,

"How is it that we have a housing crisis? Maybe a homing crisis, or a sharing crisis, but this isn't a housing crisis."

This was written in a time when the U.S. was considered to be having a housing crisis. Now I think we have, perhaps, a different type of housing crisis, one in which there are too many large expensive homes, and everyone is trying to downsize when downsized houses barely exist. I love how she refers to this as a sharing crisis, though, because it exactly fits how I feel about co-housing/multi-generational housing/intentional community, or whatever else you want to call it. For the purpose of simplicity, it means sharing your house with other adults. Our co-housing adventure begins next week when Vespera & Novio get married (or, perhaps, 2 weeks from now, when they're home from their honeymoon). They'll be living with us.

Why share? Well, to be honest, it makes sense to me as a family therapist, as an environmentalist, and as a Christian. Maybe I'll take those points in backwards order. As Christians we are called to be the church. I spent some time in graduate school really working out what that means and came to the conclusion that my professor, LeRon Schultz, says it best. He spoke of how the church of the Bible was a group of people who were called to live together in community, loving and serving each other, in a way that calls or draws other people to God. In other words, the early church was supposed to share.

All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. (Acts 2:44-47)

They didn't stop having houses or possessions entirely, as evidenced by the fact that they went to each other's houses and ate, but they gladly shared all they had with each other. And, frankly, people were drawn in by that kind of community, by that kind of selflessness and sharing. People became Christians because of the example the early church set. They wanted what that little group of people had. This is our calling...to live in this beautiful relationship with each other in a way that attracts others, that draws them. I have often thought of our house as one of peace and one of healing. It is the deep desire of Mango & I to offer grace and rest to all who enter here. Who better to begin with than our children?

So, secondly, as an environmentalist, shared housing makes so much sense. Why use more natural resources to build more houses when the houses we have are big enough to house more people? Why burn the fuel to heat two houses when we all fit in one? Why use the electricity to light two kitchens and two living rooms? Why buy more dishes and appliances when we can share? It's a matter of environmental stewardship to leave a smaller footprint.

And, finally, as a family therapist, a mother, and a human being, shared housing means we have access to the community we so desperately need. We were not created to spend long hours without the company of others or to take care of all the tasks of daily life alone. Post partum depression is so common for new mothers because they're so isolated. Spending all day with only the company of a small child is exhausting, lonely, and (let's admit it) boring work. I know that I was delighted to learn when Vespera came to us that I was gaining, not simply another daughter, but some thoughtful company and interesting conversation. More people in a house means more opportunities to learn and to grow, to share thoughts, to gather ideas, to be challenged and to challenge others, to be sharpened, to develop into better, more whole and holy people (to throw in some more theology). Not to mention, that shared housing also means dividing responsibilities and multiplying our celebrations!

I cannot say all this without mentioning that I am also an introvert, partial to time alone and a little space to think. I imagine that other introverts reading here are feeling a bit horrified at the suggestion of co-housing. This is why sharing a house requires some healthy people with good boundaries. It can't be done thoughtlessly or without the necessary communication skills. This is, perhaps, another blog post altogether. So, I think I'll leave it at that.

As always, I invite your thoughts, comments, questions, and prayer. Thanks!

More on Communal Living

I wanted to type out the direct quote that I mentioned in my last post. The author of Little House on a Small Planet is Shay Salomon. She says in the introduction, "How is it that we have a housing crisis? Maybe a homing crisis, or a sharing crisis, but this isn't a housing crisis."

It seems to me that some very understandable things happened to precipitate this sharing crisis, and now we're a nation of lonely people needing to find a way back to communing with other human beings. Salomon suggests, from her research, that Americans first began building large houses and spreading out into the sprawl of the suburbs as a symbol of having achieved money and freedom. People thought this is what they always wanted...to be middle class, free, and independent...because they had previously been crowded, poor, and squelched. Large, single-family homes symbolize, in many ways, the "American Dream." They are all about being a self-made human, having accomplished something from nothing. It's still true in many places in the world that the only people with large houses have inherited wealth. In America, it's possible to start out your life with nothing and end your life with a mansion.

The trouble is that having more stuff and more space doesn't really make people happy. Not having to worry constantly about money does make a difference, but once ends are meeting, it seems that having more doesn't really make people happier. In fact, having more seems to create a desire for even more. I can't help but think of people who reminisce fondly of their poor college days, and, although they have more (materially & monetarily) now, they are less happy. It seems, at least in part, that people miss the freedom they had when they had less money. Once you're tied to a hefty mortgage, you have less freedom, more responsibility.

Salomon says, "Many of us know someone who has suffered the consequences of an inflated mortgage, an overwhelming construction project, or a house simply too large to keep clean. Will our dream home always be a celebration of excess, and a drain on our lives?"

I'm not trying to decry the abominations of home ownership. We own a home, too. I'm just trying to think it through. And I'm thinking of what might be different in our culture if people felt like they could share houses, rather than everyone buying their own.

In her book, Salomon discusses how the people who have very small houses often owe less or nothing on their homes, which frees them to work less, spend more time at home, and spend more time with family, friends, and community. This looks a lot more like the American dream of my generation. We're a generation of people trying to work from home, be the primary caregivers for our own children, and have more time to spend socializing with friends.

Salomon interviewed hundreds of people with small houses and found that most had better family relationships in their small space, though this seems contrary to popular American psychology. And people talked about "finding space in their head" and in the outdoors, rather than needing literal household space. I'm running out of time to write today, but I want to come back to this idea...the idea that relationships can be better and people can find other ways to "make" space.

I'm going to stop here today, though. I could keep going, but I'm out of time, and I want to keep putting thoughts out there as I think through them.

Please, please, if you're up for a discussion, post your comments, and let's talk!

Communal Living

I have about 15 minutes to write my thoughts as fast I can tonight while Mango is on his way home. I've been reading a book (see my sidebar) called Little House on a Small Planet. My reading frenzy on the subject of communal living began with a conversation I had with Vespera a few weeks back about continuing to live communally even after she gets married someday. We've experienced plenty of culture exchange since Vespera became our daughter and a few small cultural challenges. This is the first one that really threw me. And then I had to ask myself why? Why does this throw me? Haven't I been talking for years about how people were meant to live communally? Haven't I been speaking on the loneliness of mothers, the challenges we face in a society where we are isolated as parents on a daily basis because we all live in our separate little homes? Haven't I complained plenty about the suburbs and suburban sprawl and talked about the virtues of high density housing? Yep, that was me. I've talked about all those things. What is it that makes us think we cannot begin those things with our own families? Why does communal living typically imply a group of friends rather than families?

So, I've taken it upon myself to begin some reading. I want to really explore the cultural assumption in America that adult children must leave home to be grown-up, that in order for healthy differentiation to happen, people must have their own house. And I want to think about why we Americans seem to think we need so much space. Why do we have to have so much privacy and so many belongings?

Little House on a Small Planet begins by addressing some of these issues, first, from an environmental standpoint. Did you know that houses these days are no less energy efficient now than they were in the 1950's? Obviously, there's plenty of new energy-saving technologies, but the increase in the size of houses negates the improvements in energy efficiency. Did you also know that if we Americans went back to homes that provided about 350 square feet per person, we currently have enough housing in America for our entire population DOUBLED? Did you know that in 2000 there were 45 vacant housing units per every person sleeping in homeless shelters? The author points out that we don't have a housing problem. We have a sharing problem.

Hmmm.

So, we have totally welcomed the possibility of communal living/multigenerational housing with Vespera and her future family. (Yes, we really plan ahead!) Now, I'm off to read about why people don't typically do this any more.