I’ve just thrown in the towel.

It’s not like me, and I’m a bit embarrased to admit it. But the truth is that I’ve spent the past 6 years working on the rather intimidating goal of starting a residential Intentional Community, and I am finally admitting that I might not be up to the task. Conventional wisdom says that every new community needs a burning soul, and I’ve burned brightly, burned joyfully, and finally, burned out.

The first year and a half, I lived with my mother, stepfather and son, and the three of us adults worked diligently on visioning a community that we could be happy with. But it turned out that our visions were too different, and my relationship with my stepfather deteriorated to the point that it wasn’t worth it anymore. I had one of my worst ever human behavior moments about a month before we called it quits, and actually threw a plate during a meeting (you can’t tell me that people can’t behave badly and intend well in the same breath!) Conflict, and a lack of values match killed the first project.

I spent that next summer at Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage in Missouri. It was a lovely summer of inspiration and recharge, but there weren’t yet kids for my incredibly social son, and I couldn’t figure out how to make a living in rural Missouri. So I moved to Albuquerque with a promise from my son’s father that we’d start a community together.

The next year and a half was a time of incredible growth and learning. We rented two houses next to each other in a residential neighborhood, combined our expenses and supported each other in following our dreams. This was the group that supported me in writing a book, having a baby for close friends and learning about just how important good facilitation is. Things came apart for two main reasons: we weren’t savvy enough about our conflicts (the bad news) and half of us were chasing bigger dreams of starting a full-fledged ecovillage and being a model project for urban revitilization (the good news). Sol Space (the group that inspired this company name) was a qualified success, albeit short-term.

For the past four years, I’ve lived a lot of life with a dynamic group of dreamers, activists, artists and business people, all of whom shared a dream of cooperative living (and only some of whom were part of Sol Space). I’ve made some huge mistakes as a leader– pushed the group too fast, been unable to separate my personal needs from the group’s agenda, and done my share of simple whining when things didn’t go my way. I’ve also done a lot of things right– gotten that facilitation training I had been missing, insisted that we learn consensus together, connected individually with everyone who showed the slightest interest, and preserved all the friendships I ever made in the process. About a year ago, the group landed on a city block with a vibrant, member-owned business, and a development model similar to N-Street Cohousing.

Things are interesting here… but somehow I’ve missed the sweet spot between flexibility and sticking with a vision that inspires me. I find myself longing for being able to grow more food, and to be with people who are universally excited about intentional community, beyond just being friends with the neighbors and just because it is a great way to do life. And I am wanting to return to my ecologists daughter’s roots more directly and live in an ecovillage with the freedom from strict zoning laws that allows real experimentation. And, in a way I never anticipated, I’m longing for the country.

So… after four years, I am headed back to do a visitor period (again) at Dancing Rabbit, where there are finally enough kids to satisfy even my rambunctious ten year old, and I can finally see how to do life there for myself.

So, I salute all you founders out there who have pulled it off. I am grateful to every bit of work you’ve put in, and I understand the struggle– feeling responsible for everything, the exhaustion of constantly re-explaining why we are here, and the flashes of joy and pardonable pride when it suddenly opens up as a real, meaningful thing (flashes that no one else seems to really grok). Thank you.

And I now join the ranks of the happy joiners.