When I moved onto 20 acres of forested mountain, a half hour drive from the nearest small town, I imagined myself becoming a hermit in the woods. I had been living in national forests and developed an intolerance for the noise humans make. And I really am deeply cranky if I don’t spend enough time in solitude in nature. So, I figured I would build the skills to live an entirely self-sufficient life. I would be entirely outside of society and rely on nobody but my husband. About a year later, some of that remains. However, I no longer desire the burden of the label “self-sufficient”. It is still my main goal to live off of the abundance of this land and to be able to provide for a thriving family regardless of any circumstance. But I’ve learned a lot this year. I no longer think that the highest calling for myself and my family exists apart from everyone. This shift in my understanding of life has brought about a change in my opinion on self-sufficiency. The incredible community that I have found here, and the support from my out-of-town family have shown me a different way. I have learned to embrace the notion of a “community sufficient” life.
Living off-grid was the highest priority when my husband and I began our homesteading adventure. We are completely unwilling to rely on city utilities in any way. We are working on many additional pursuits of independence from modern society. But, in order to have some agreed upon luxuries such as a refrigerator and the ability to charge our cell phones, we use a dual fuel generator in addition to our solar system. This means that we still purchase gas and propane in town. I complain incessantly about it. I hate the noise, smell, and cost of running it. Over time, we will continue to develop the robustness of our solar system and stop purchasing fuel to convert into electricity. But even right now, could we survive through all seasons without it? Absolutely. I know that I have developed a hardiness that would allow me to utilize my wood burning stove and outdoor fires for our basic needs. We are self-sufficient enough to render the generator a true luxury. And that feels really good!
I am uncomfortable living a life where I outsource responsibility for my existence to others. That applies to relying on the opinions of experts, and it also applies to relying too heavily on the generosity and resources of my community. A life built on even the most stable outside assistance is a false sense of security. Even money, which is often considered a good measure of security, can lose value almost instantly. In fact, it is only worth anything at all if there are goods to buy and people to hire to fill the gaps in your skillset. This is particularly meaningful if you believe, as I do, that we live in a society teetering on the brink of collapse. In many ways, the only true security comes from self-sufficiency. It comes from having robust systems in place for your basic needs, backups for those systems, and the knowledge that you can further adapt to anything that might come along. Therefore, amassing knowledge and building competence is a part of my daily work. I intend to develop skills as a gardener, herbalist, and cook (just to name a few key interests) for the rest of my life. My husband feels the same and continues to develop his skills with an equal intensity.
However, humans seek out what lies beyond the basic necessities of survival. We dream and plan. I tend to exist on the ambitious end of that spectrum. Over the last year I have learned a lot about the possibilities that materialize through accepting assistance from other people. Our friends and family have been such a blessing. With their help, the struggle of survival in our first year was eased. Instead of just focusing on making it through the seasons, we have been able to live an expansive life we never could have achieved by insisting on being self-sufficient. Buying our family dairy cow, raising a flock of chickens and ducks, bringing my horse home, and starting a mead company are just a few of the things that collaborating with our community has made possible.
We arrived in the Fall and immediately needed to work on our plan for the winter. Many people offered us emergency housing if we got too cold. People stopped by to discuss camper winterization strategies. New friends opened their homes to us on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Discovering that we would be without a well for up to two years, our neighbors offered water from their well. After my first attempt to garden in this climate didn’t yield much, we received an abundance of produce from the gardens of friends and neighbors. We’ve been able to borrow machinery and enlist help to move forward on countless projects. The list goes on infinitely. And then there is the enjoyment of conversation, shared meals, river floats and rowdy game nights which enhance our quality of life as much as anything.
We have also been fortunate enough to be supported by an incredible community of out-of-town family who have shown an extraordinary desire to be of service to our dream. Without them, times would be much leaner, projects would move slower, and life would undoubtedly be less sweet.
Community-sufficiency is not transactional. However, as I embrace this way of life, I find myself more motivated than ever to be of service. To give back as much as I have received. If my neighbors and friends need a hand, I want to give one. And that spirit will only deepen as I settle into life here and develop my capacities. Admittedly, at the moment, I get more help than I give. My husband, on the other hand, has developed a community with the other husbands on the mountain. They all help each other out with a myriad of projects and share the use of the tools that move these things forward.
I am excited to share the highs and lows of life with a community. I am excited that my children will be raised around a close-knit group of people who can share unique skills and perspectives. I am excited to create that, even though it is outside of my comfort zone. Will I ever be able to be the hermit I imagined myself to be? That vision is shifting to one of a matriarch with skills developed over decades of homesteading and Earth based living. My plans still absolutely include walking about in the woods alone, making tea, talking to plants, and meditating in solitude. However, now I plan to do that while cultivating relationships with neighbors and friends. And the delectable tidbits of homegrown goodness that will bake and simmer in my kitchen will be destined for the bellies of the people my family loves.