I’m still processing some of the info-overload from the workshop, but there were definitely a few things that stuck out to me initially.

1. Cohousing is a beautiful idea, and it definitely has the transformative capacity to significantly reshape the way we live. Those who are leading this emerging movement are inspired by an alternative vision of neighborhoods, community, and sustainability that deconstructs the status quo of sprawl, isolation, and consumerism in most of the housing options currently available to us.
2. With that said, it is also a very long, costly, and difficult process that could go terribly wrong. For much to be gained, much is risked. Seeing the whole process unpacked is pretty intimidating.
3. It struck me that there is a great deal of privilege in cohousing; merely having the conversation about alternative/sustainable models of housing assumes a certain level of socioeconomic privilege. Being the only person of color in the room made me wonder: are people of color not interested in cohousing, or is it my privilege that makes me interested, or both?
4. Regardless of where any of this goes (if anywhere at all), I’m always encouraged when people sit around a table and share ideas about how to make “community” and “sustainability” (and the broad categories those concepts represent) more of a reality in our lives. Life is too short and too misdirected by competing agendas to not ask these difficult questions.

More to follow later.

To summarize what we discussed for those who were unable to attend, we briefly shared some of our varied experiences with different forms of community living/housing, and some of the pros and cons of intentional communities.  We talked about the possibilities and reservations on our minds considering the cohousing model, and briefly discussed ideas around shared space, group size, and location.

One common concern was financial; several people are not currently in a place to secure a lot of capital.  And sadly, no one had millions of dollars just lying around to invest in funding land acquisition and a construction project.  I hope that the workshop will provide some insight into different approaches to structuring the finances of a cohousing community, but I also hope that people will use their connections and creativity to think of ways that we could make this work.

Grants?  Private investors?  Product sponsors?  Community partnerships?  I’m sure there are people in Seattle who might be interested in investing in a cohousing project in South Seattle, and I know we could get some architects/builders, developers, landscape architects, and other such consultants to donate some time.  Other ideas?

While the bulk of this conversation will (and should) take place in the “real world” and not on some blog, I thought we might be able to use both mediums together.  If folks decide that it’s too cumbersome or awkward or just plain weird to post ideas here, then I’m totally fine with just moving it offline.  But in the meantime, amidst the difficulty of arranging multiple schedules of busy people, I hope this will be some food for thought.

I do want to get together in person soon, and those I’ve spoken with or those who have expressed interest will be hearing from me shortly.  I’m very much looking forward to our time together.  A quick technical note: if you’d like to be invited as a contributor so you can post in your name or make other edits, let me know by email (davidpl at gmail dot com).

Also, I’ve arranged the site in 3 areas: community, design, and location.  I hope these categories make sense.  Naturally, they tend to overlap and interact a bit, but I split them up to help guide the different types of conversations that (I think) need to be had at this point.

This process will likely be a long, slow journey of discernment and planning, but I think Chris and I (and Jonas) are ready to enter into that process with others to explore how a collective interest in shared space, neighborhood investment, and community living could become a reality.

When most people in the West spend the bulk of their earnings over the course of their lifetime on what is essentially a roof over their heads, shouldn’t we think more critically about how to ensure that our homes are more than just a cog in the machine of market capitalism?  Further, how can housing be reflective of the shared values and resources that make us more human?  Stewardship, beauty, community, and simplicity are all strong themes in cohousing.

As I’ve mulled over the various possibilities in site location, design, and community structure, I’ve put together a basic list of things I’d like to see in the project; however, as others join in the discernment process, this list is bound to change.  Regardless, here’s what I have thus far:

Site Location:

• My preference is for a neighborhood in (or in close proximity to) the Rainier Valley, a community rich in history and diversity with a strong neighborhood identity and sense of social capital.
• I would love for the site to be within walking distance to: (1) a public school or community center, (2) social services, and (3) the link light rail.

Design:

• One of the primary design constraints will be the minimal size of available land in these kinds of neighborhoods, but ideally, I’d be looking for a 5,000-8,000 sq ft urban infill lot, with an onsite density of 4-6 housing units (a dream find would be a large lot zoned multi-family with an existing structure needing rehabilitation which, when renovated, could serve as the common house).
• Each individual housing unit would be custom designed for the needs and budget of the household, with social and environmental sustainability in mind.
• The small common house would be designed with a kitchen, guest facilities, and multipurpose space to serve as a resource for both the cohousing community and other neighbors as needed.

Community Structure:

• The “intentional” aspects of the community would be low on social structure, but high on designed shared space (lower commitment to shared goals, higher commitment to shared space).
• A diverse mix (age, ethnicity, background) of families, couples, and singles is desired.

There are probably other things that I’m forgetting, but I think this list is a decent start.  I’m hopeful that this could become a way to live more simply and sustainably, with a deeper commitment to friends and neighbors in a fragmented culture of superficiality, upward mobility, and hyper-consumeristic individualism.  Cohousing may not be able to extricate itself completely from these powerful societal influences, but it definitely holds the potential to be a prophetic alternative to housing as usual.

For those who may be interested in pursuing this conversation further, and possibly attending a portion of the 2009 National Cohousing Conference coming to Seattle in June, let me know.

So in an effort to redeem what might have been more confusing than helpful, I’m reposting my thoughts here as a second attempt at relative coherence.  The question I had hoped to address was: Is choosing a place to live (whether buying, renting, cohousing, or somewhere in between) simply a matter of personal preference for arbitrary geography, or are there ethical and theological implications involved in the arrangement of our neighborhoods, especially in the larger urban context?

Recent reporting from the Pew Research Center shows the varied perspectives on how people feel about where they live in America.  In addition to some predictable trends, like Seattle being a highly desirable place to live and younger people preferring cities over suburbs, there were also indicators of what urbanologists have long known about most larger cities; namely, that there is a pervasive sense of wanderlust, rootlessness, and hence, placelessness in our “communities.”  People shop for a home like they shop for any other consumer item; it just so happens that a place to live is a significantly expensive purchase.

In this context of upwardly-mobile, consumer-driven home acquisition, there are few motivating factors beyond comfort, convenience, and the so-called American Dream.  With a fixation on return on investment or the projection of a particular “lifestyle,” most people are more preoccupied with square footage and curb appeal than any sort of conversation about the ethics of place.

And this is where I think Christians need to stop and think critically about whether or not the Christian story- the grand narrative about God calling, redeeming, and sending a people- should cause us to reflect differently about where we choose to live.  Shouldn’t those who claim to be Christ-followers indeed follow the Suffering Servant into the difficult dialogue about how a downwardly-mobile social trajectory should shape our sense of economics in what will likely be the most significant financial investment of our lives?

I’m not a proponent of the idea that there is only one way to think Christianly about where we live; quite to the contrary, there are many expressions of and ideas about how to become placemakers in a society of placelessness.  But a good place (no pun intended) to begin has to be: (1) disentangling our economic idolatry of homes from our embedded sense of entitlement, and (2) cultivating a sense of simplicity and responsibility as we allow the Christian narrative to shape our understanding of where we live.

Lastly, here are some initial questions that I think are worth asking as we attempt to reflect theologically about our homes:

1. Homes are about community (relational, spiritual, missional): Does my home deepen or hinder “community” in my life?  Do I live in a place that cultivates my sense of community- both social and geographical- or has it further fragmented my life?  Does my home foster an outward perspective on community, or does it simply enforce my privacy?
2. Homes are about hospitality (hosting, serving, neighboring): Is my home a welcoming place for friends and neighbors?  Do I make an intentional effort to serve those in need around me?  Does my home help me to be- as Jesus commands- a distinctly good neighbor?
3. Homes are about stewardship (managing, investing, giving): Am I using my home merely to meet my own needs or can I find ways to make my home a resource for others?  How can my home be an investment in more than my financial future?  Is my home allowing me to give- financially, relationally, spiritually- to others or is it taking everything I have just to live there?

These questions can be asked regardless of where you live, and I try to ask myself periodically if I’m honoring these ideals.  But in recent years, some subsequent questions about place in the urban context have made these initial questions more complicated; and now I’m writing a dissertation to get to my next set of answers…

Honestly, I’d say that the chances of a small scale urban cohousing project actually coming together in my neighborhood over the next few years are pretty slim, but I’m going to keep posting about it anyway if for no other reason than to keep reminding myself of the possibility.  Regardless, even if nothing ever materializes, the alternative of staying put in Rainier Vista for the long haul isn’t a bad option at all.  After over two years (and enduring a lot of ongoing construction), we still love the vision of the neighborhood, the tangible sense of community, and the proximity of our neighbors.  Living in an SHA redevelopment project isn’t perfect, but it’s home.

Living as close as we do (from 50 ft to a few blocks) to a number of good friends, some people have asked me how different cohousing would be from the community we already enjoy, and I think that’s a good question.  And while I’m not sure the investment would be “worth it” in the end, it’s difficult to measure or predict the ways that an intentionally designed, increased proximity could affect the long term depth and sustainability of a community.

At the end of the day, I think the fatal flaw in my thinking is that I’m inclined to be more infatuated with the idea of cohousing than what the actual commitment may require- an unfortunate implication of my borderline pseudo-activist idealism.  Such is the reality of trying to solve the upwardly mobile urban housing problem on my own.  Besides, I don’t think many people share in my opinion that this particular trend– the growing cost of housing (financial and societal)– is even a problem at all.

i’m using the language of consumption intentionally as it relates to housing because that is the dominant mode of thinking as we choose where and in what type of dwelling to live.  homes are the largest consumer item purchased in america, and like all other goods on the market, we buy them with some built-in obsolescence, knowing that in time we will “need” an upgrade of some sort, whether towards high-end urban luxury or gated mcmansion.  these perpetual upgrades towards bigger and “better” for everyone have fueled the subprime crisis, creating unsustainable levels of debt teetering on financial disaster.  but far worse than the financial cost, in my opinion, is the hollow pursuit of upward mobility, which in the end, costs us much more than just dollars.

we are so fixated on this eventual “dream home” trajectory that we’ve created a culture that idolizes the ideal on lifestyles of the rich and famous (or MTV cribs, depending on when you were born) without reconciling the reality.  the reality is that attaining your bigger, better home may be a step up in social status and comfort level for you, but the true cost of the disparity and stratification you create is paid for by those on the bottom.

so what if there was an alternative to this cycle of upward mobility in housing that traps us in ridiculous debt and robs us of the gift of community?  i don’t have any brilliant solutions here, but i do have an initial theological thesis: christians who are committed to the downwardly mobile trajectory of the cross should be leading the way in creating alternative models for housing, particularly in places, neighborhoods, and communities where urban density, diversity, and disparity are present.

my tentative, disjointed dream of a small scale, urban cohousing project with common space for serving the neighborhood may never come to fruition, but if several years from now, i’m tempted to cave in to the pattern of home upgrading because my equity is looking prime (and nobody wants to join my commune), then i hope someone will slap me upside the head and remind me of this series of posts.

ultimately, i really just want to live with less home debt so i can invest in the things i care about, not slave away endlessly to pay off this godless mortgage.  but i want to do that responsibly without compromising things like place and community, which are deeply significant to me.  and my hope is that along the way, this type of housing alternative and creative, communal stewardship might speak prophetically to the peculiar, counter-cultural values that the cross points us towards as we attempt to live as citizens of the kingdom of God and not the empire.

i think when most people hear about the concept of intentional communities, they probably either find it “interesting” or dismiss it as a bit odd. after all, it is somewhat strange to talk about “sharing resources” and “common space” in this pervasively capitalist society based on private ownership, right? or is it?

the fact that “the seattle area is one of the top cohousing centers in the nation” doesn’t surprise me given the city’s reputation for nonconformist thinking, but what does surprise me is how few people actually consider it seriously. everyone has probably lived “in community” in one form or another at some point (though it’s often unintentional), and for many it reminds them of those college dorm days when people shared food, enjoyed common space, left front doors open, and roamed communally from place to place. but why is it that when people choose to “grow up” and “move out” that they almost always do so in such an isolated, fragmented manner?

there’s certainly some appeal to having your own place all to yourself (and sadly it is often equated with “making it” financially)- but i do think the novelty fades quickly. and again, the beauty of cohousing is that you do have your own place, but that’s not all you have. as chris and i prepare for our first child, we can definitely see the benefit of living in closer community- babysitting, anyone?

at the end of the day, i wonder if people are afraid of rejecting the dominant system of solely private home ownership in part because of how they may be perceived. but i’m also hopeful that in spite of the pressure to conform to societal norms, many people might be drawn to how beautiful and how human something like cohousing can be.

after all, if we truly are created in the image of community, then that realization ought to make us into a peculiar people. and to a culture obsessed with individualism and privacy, this should be good news.

homeownership is a significant accomplishment and commitment for many (especially in seattle!), but i also think its potential for community building is misunderstood. as the largest purchase most consumers will ever make, most homeowners also hold the majority of their wealth (in the form of equity) in their homes. but what if my equity could be used for something more than just my own financial benefit?

according to national averages, most homeowners move about once every seven years, while first time homebuyers stay in their first home as little as three years. partly because of the way the market is designed (which mostly just reflects our urban planning and our financial priorities), most homeowners are- in the long term- searching for their eventual “dream home” which requires several incremental home upgrades along the way, each time using equity earned in a home sale to purchase a bigger, better, more “desirable” home.

but i think the major downside of this predominant home-buying model is in the unseen cost of transiency, isolation, and eventual disappointment, let alone massive consumer debt, an endlessly frustrating cycle of upward mobility that inevitably results in buyers’ remorse, and societal fragmentation. in other words, people buy into an illusion that they’ll feel settled and satisfied once they attain a certain level or type of home, and then they do their best to adjust to whatever neighborhood they end up in, when in actuality this whole process should be the other way around. is it possible that the biggest gift of living somewhere is present not in the value of our home but instead in the quality of our community?

cohousing presents an alternative ideal to the suburban/urban isolation so many of us feel. you may feel perfectly content where you live, but it’s probably because our expectations for community in our neighborhoods have dropped so low that we no longer even recognize our poverty of social capital. in a culture where it’s completely acceptable to live next door to someone for years without even knowing their name, it’s saddens me that more of us are not upset about wondering how we got here.

combined with an increasing interest in the work of local architect tony case (whose projects i’ve been secretly stalking for some time now), my infatuation with cohousing is beginning to grow into something more.

my thought process at this point is somewhat scattered, but basically i’m sold on the idea behind the cohousing movement, which the cohousing association of the US articulates as “building a sustainable society, one neighborhood at a time.” simply put, cohousing is a form of intentional community, but is probably better described as intentional neighborhood design that utilizes a unique combination of private space (your own home) and shared space (a common house). its methods and models vary greatly, but the basic premise is that living with social, economic, and environmental sustainability in mind creates a community that is far better than what traditional urban/suburban residential models have offered.

why would you want to do this? well, some of my personal reasons are:

1. real community and intentionality require close proximity.
2. i want my own space, but i could live far more simply and efficiently if certain resources were shared with others. food is the easiest example. another simple example: i like having a guest room, but it’s empty most of the year. why not share a guest room in a common house?
3. we’re better, deeper, and can do more together. do you garden? can you sew? do you bake? i suck at that stuff, but you might be awesome. i can probably fix your computer, so maybe we can swap skills and experiences?
4. spiritually, i see a lot of potential for cohousing to help cultivate christian community in a way that’s far more “christian” than how most of us live. but that’s about 73 more reasons and this is getting long.

how does it work? in a nutshell, people who are committed to starting a cohousing community get together, start the conversation, share their thoughts, and start planning. once the basic design is outlined (which could take a while depending on how many people are involved), the implementation phase begins (land acquisition, permitting, and eventually construction). the possibilities are endless- size, location, layout, structures, space, mission…

my particular hopes at this very preliminary stage are for a fairly small community- maybe 5-8 households- in a diverse urban location as close as possible to where i currently live (though unlikely, i’d love to be able to purchase a plot of land across the street in or near rainier vista phase II), with a design model of several attached townhomes/duplexes and a multi-purpose common house that would serve as not only the social hub of the immediate community, but also a resource to the surrounding neighborhood.

i really have no idea if any of this will materialize at all, but until i become convinced that this is a terrible, impossible idea, i’ll be posting about and evangelizing this cohousing idea at every opportunity. stay tuned!