Many of my colleagues have enormous desk calendars where they mark each passing day with a large red oversized Sharpie. I don't have a desk calendar. (Sometimes I think there must have been a teaching class I missed; perhaps when I was ditching the lesson plan class to argue philosophy with a friend at Starbucks) Even if I did, though, I wouldn't count down the days. There is a part of me that doesn't want to slow down. I don't want to feel boredom or loneliness.
At school, I have some semblance of community. We share a geography. I can walk into Javi's classroom or visit with Luke in the staff lounge. In the summer, I am home-bound, living as a self-imposed shut-in with a large part of my interaction confined to explaining "why" to the incessant questions of a three year old (almost).
I am missing community. I am lonely. I'm in a small group at church, but I don't know the men well enough to go have coffee with any of them. I miss what I had in college. I was part of a group called TNL (The Next Level). My mentor was dedicated to forming community walking the paradox of challenging people to live boldly while also protecting their hearts. We were an odd and awkward bunch, with petty squabling, ego stroking and such raw and open insecurities.
But we also had a shared space every Thursday night. We had Bible Studies at Brad and Debbie's house. Many of us worked together at an inner-city ministry. We hung out at Starbucks. I had never really ditched classes in college until I became a part of this group. I think those of us in TNL got a chance at real community and as imperfect and awkward as we all were, we made it work. I don't think I realized at the time how rare that type of community is.
At the time we were too focussed on what we thought could really take away our loneliness: marriage. And althought marriage is amazing, it hasn't taken away the solitude. I may never have the same sense of community again. However, when I am at school, I can at least participate in a weaker, professionalized version of family; and as dysfunctional as our staff might be, we are still family.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
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The views of this blog are those of the author only . . . and a few people crazy enough to agree with him. They do not in any way represent those of the Cartwright School District or its staff. If you find something offensive, please e-mail me at socialvoice@gmail.com and we'll engage in a respectful dialogue.
4 comments:
I miss the community that was formed by TNL as well. In hindsight though, I did make some poorly thought out assumptions about community. In so many ways, TNL was easy (at least from my perspective). We had frequent, recurring discussions with a person I wholeheartedly believe is among the most gifted thinkers on this planet. As an introvert, I barely had to try because there were so many extraverts. As a quasi-intellectual, I was consistently stimulated through conversataions, questions and genuine friendships with persons such as you. On any given day, I got to teach and learn, listen and think. Hell, I fell in love and got married to someone in that community. (Quick aside: I don't think I ever had the thought that marriage would eliminate loneliness. I suppose in many ways it is a mitigating factor, but I didn't personally go into marriage with hopes of making me feel less lonely. Maybe I just didn’t think much about that aspect though…)
Anyway, when I moved to Illinois, I assumed that assimilating to a like community would be a natural, organic process through the joining of family and involvement of a church. I found out that my family has some very strange internal politics that I was shielded from during my time in Arizona. I also came to learn that I don’t really like my church, and the surrounding area has little in the way of viable alternatives. This is compounded by the fact that my family is highly involved in our church (especially my mom who counsels there and works in the office), so I don’t feel like I can do anything and have it really be “my own.” (Whatever that means… maybe its not importatn) Whatever I do/don’t do, my mom knows about it. She intercedes without even realizing she is doing it. I feel annoyed and intruded upon. As a person who values independence and autonomy (whether or not I like to admit it), I feel like I am always under their watchful eye. There is no community there for me – at least that is how I feel most of the time. I’ve met a few really nice guys out here, but our friendships lack depth. I might be mostly to blame for that, but I think I can make an honest case that the things I value (in terms of intimacy) are markedly different that what they value. When/where/how do I find something different?
So this is what I was wondering a few days ago: Was TNL a “Golden Age” of sorts in terms of community – something that one is lucky to experience, but couldn’t reasonably assume would ever relive? I know that is a pessimistic outlook - maybe it’s grounded in very little truth - but I wonder.
Anyway, it is good to read your blog. It is not the same as coffee at starbucks or beers at rock bottom, but it makes me feel reconnected – at least a little bit – to a person & to a community that I miss dearly.
so holy crap. When you type in this little comment box you have no idea how long your comment is really going to be. sorry 'bout that ;)
I enjoyed reading your comment. It's rare that anyone comments on my blog posts.
John,
Dustin and I often talk about this. I think the majority of the people involved in TNL have had tremendous difficulty getting involved in another church/community. Having someone as gifted as Brad be so available to us I think really did mess us up. How does it get better than that? It is hard not view TNL as a "Golden Age" because of my experiences after. And I'm sure yours too! Church and community like we had at TNL has been so difficult to find. I think Dan is right - It is true we do have a community with our blog sites. If we didn't communicate here, we would not be communicating at all (unfortunately). I really wish I would have spent more time with you and Dan when we had a common arena to see eachother. It appears we have far more in common than we might have realized. At least we are still connected somehow and hopeully we can all reunite at some point. Miss you John!
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