For the last
few generations, mine included, the emphasis on career has pushed many of us away
from the homes we grew up in and has made us nomads of sorts, chasing the next
degree, the next experience, and the best job across the country and even
around the world. Since graduating, I've lived in two different countries,
three different cities, and in seven different homes. I moved from place to
place in search of my purpose and a career I could love.
Given my penchant
for transience and adventure, I have to admit that the thought of putting down
roots in some suburban community has always made me cringe. From the outside, the
white-picket-fence-life seems dull and stifling, an act of settling into a rut
and giving up on your dreams. The world is a vast place with so many types of
people and cultures and you are choosing to wrap yourself in just one little
corner of it? I'm sure the fact that my parents moved a lot - taking our family
to Brazil, several places in the U.S, and to Nicaragua – has only aggravated my
travel itch.
But as I get
closer to turning 30 and as I experience more of single life in a big city, I
find that my views on "settling" are starting to change. Perhaps it's the nesting hormones starting to
kick-in.
DC is a city
full of young, single professionals. They are a very social bunch, but their tendency
toward loneliness is strong – roots are shallow, self-identity is still in
flux, and superficial relationships abound.
Within this
environment, my three-story red-brick row house with its blue door and a warmth
of community inside has been a God-given haven. The seven of us take turns
cooking and often share our meals together. We throw fun parties with live
bands, toilet paper each other rooms and put fake spiders in each other's beds,
cry with one another when tragedy strikes, and simply enjoy the warmth and
comfort of each other's presence. We still suffer the loneliness of our 20s,
but it's muted and shared.
Although in
my gut I've always known this, living in this community house has reminded me
that relationships are truly the good stuff of life and that people are what I
should ultimately pursue, even above career.
I think one
of the reasons I struggle with the idea of settling is because I know that by
choosing one particular place I am excluding the possibility of knowing other
places. By picking one job I cut-off the option of other jobs. By picking one
group of friends I miss the chance of getting to know other interesting people
(a problem I struggled with constantly in college, and therefore always felt a
bit like an "in-betweener" never fully belonging to any group of
friends, always one foot in and one foot out). Moreover, by settling on one place, job, or
friend group I'd also not be able to be fully me – I need diversity to draw out
all the different parts of who I am and to grow.
Yet I've
begun to realize that the depth of life is often best experienced by narrowing
in and choosing. You cannot experience the closeness and deep love of marriage
without committing to a person and similarly you can't mine the richness of a
community without in some way committing yourself to it. And so as much as I've
appreciated how my transient life has helped me discover myself and new ideas
and diverse people, I think it may be time for the pendulum to start swinging
back, not just in my own life and in the life of other 20-somethings, but as a
culture at large.
Much to my
surprise, it turns out that although "the United States is often portrayed
as restless and rootless," the pendulum has actually been swinging back
for quite some time. In 1950 about 21% of the population had moved the year
before where as in 2010 the number was down to 12%. So although young people are still the most
mobile demographic, overall recent generations are actually more settled than
their predecessors. Despite this general shift, the "elite" who hold college
degrees continue to be heavy movers (77% have lived in more than one community
vs. only 56% who have high school diplomas). The elite prioritize career over
friends and family when stating their reasons for moving. (See this publication by the PEW foundation for more interesting statistics.)
A recent book, The Little Way of Ruthie Leming, touches on this need for a broader
cultural shift in values, especially among the more mobile educated elite. It's a nonfiction tale contrasting the transitory
city life of an older brother with the settled small town life of his little
sister. When the little sister dies of
cancer and the whole town comes out for her funeral, the older brother realizes
that his sister had something that he's missing – community. Community is a
gift that is fostered over time, it takes patience and forgiveness, a heap of
small acts of sacrificial kindness, and most importantly, it takes presence.
Our society
still needs some movement; especially in a polarized political and religious
world that is so often marked by fear and boundaries, cross-boundary
relationships are vitally important. But we need to learn how to move not just
toward career and financial goals, but toward people. This doesn't necessarily mean
moving back to your home town, but it means making people an important factor
in your decision to live somewhere. It also means learning to bloom and set
roots where you are planted, even if you will only be there a short while.
Invest in getting to know your neighbors, not just the figurative neighbors of
"Love thy neighbor as thyself" but your real neighbors next door. Share
deeply with friends even if you know you may move away in a year and may not
keep in touch. Know the needs of your community and reach out to help.
At a reunion
of college friends this past weekend many people remarked how insular their
lives felt. Several had recently moved to a new city for school or for work,
many had new babies and were absorbed in home life, and they all set the goal
of reaching out to their communities more.
As one of my
friends at this reunion said, in many ways our generation has undervalued the
art and gift of friendship. My hope is that we could rediscover and reinvent
the art of community friendship. We now emphasize buying locally and caring for
our local environment, but can we also emphasize living locally? With Facebook
and Twitter linking us to the broader world and a "fear of missing
out" pulling us ten different ways, can we learn to live where we are, to
love those placed in our path, to meet the needs of those around us?
I still don't
know the family in the house next door to me. I know the man across the street
does not like our loud parties, and I periodically see a guy named Rudy who
lives down the street and I think has a crush on one of my roommates. But my
life is not really lived in my neighborhood – it is lived in my house and then
stretched across the globe.
In a couple
months we're inviting the neighborhood over for a meal and I'm looking forward
to finally meeting my neighbors and learning how to live a bit more locally. I
hope others in my generation, living the transient life-style, can learn to do
the same.