Adapting, longing and homesickness...

I never know when a party will break out. A party can be a dinner together, an evening around the bonfire, or a late night gathering on Juan's porch. at CWG, parties have a way of emerging out of thin air and the term "party" is used loosely. The main commonality would be the appreciation of one another's presence--the pure pleasure of connection through food, fire, and conversation.

I was disappointed that CWG does not have organized daily communal meals. For me, the communal meal is the lynchpin of the experience of communal living. Without the daily gathering, the community lacked coherence for me at first. I was confused about how to gain access to a group that had already formed social bonds. Working and living together was not enough. When dinnertime arrived, I found myself floundering, irritated that I had to cook and envious of the couples that shared their meals. The solidarity of my meal seemed to punctuate my being single and traveling alone. Suddenly, I found myself wanting a partner in crime--someone to share the trials, tribulations, and hopefully, joys of this arrangement.

After a while, I realized that there is a strong culture of independence reigning at CWG, one that facilitates creativity while maintaining enough structure that order is preserved. As a result, interns and staff work hard throwing their souls into what they are doing and new projects emerge in a co-creative fashion. The formula, which may or may not be accidental, seems to work. Many of the interns have ended up staying and some have been hired.

The end result is rich conversations over the labor--people who have gathered for the love of the work and a sense of shared values.

It was after my last night at CWG, after I felt my first pangs of homesickness since I've been traveling, that I realized that I have crossed some sort of line. Because the homesickness was not for my old life or my hometown Baltimore, or my friends or family. I was surprised to feel longing for CWG, my tent, my outdoor kitchen, my conversations with Claire, the sunsets over the peanut field and Pine forests, and the sound of laughter and jazz through the woods. I was tested, I survived, and I miss it.