T HE COMMUNITY PHONE rings and on the other end is my elder brother, a computer programmer: "Is it true that you're living in some weird cult these days?"
At a family reunion, my mother's best friend turns to me with a sweet smile on her face and a voice to match: "Is your group like those Waco people in Texas?"
"How long do you think you'll last on that hippie commune?" asks my 92-year-old grandmother, referring to the community I have lived in for the past several years.
And it gets much worse....When it comes to the question of family, relatives, and friends from the past, community members frequently find themselves in situations that are uncomfortable or subtly aggressive at best, and outright abusive at worst.
On the other hand, imagine what it feels like from their side. Stories of group suicides and murders at Heaven's Gate, Jonestown, and Waco flood the media, and the first thing your family thinks of when they read them is you, tucked away in your little community, wondering if your fate will end up in the hands of some imaginary space aliens. They read the signs to watch out for in "cult" members. They correlate these warnings with the fact that maybe you live in a household with two other families, or that you perhaps no longer seem interested in your family's religion, or with their sense that your worldview has changed since you joined the community...and they worry. Given the grossly distorted stereotypes in our society about cults and communities, it is understandable that they are concerned.
Many of us who are deeply involved in community life find it difficult to sustain respectful and loving relationships with family members and those from our past. In fact, it is sometimes hard to maintain relationships with them at all, as we start to feel like we're orbiting in a different universe from the one they're in. Nonetheless, whenever possible it is preferable to maintain a respectful and ongoing relationship with those who love you. It's not that you should feel obliged to talk to them every week, or visit them every holiday, but you can keep the lines of communication open and your love for them alive.
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It isn't always easy. I remember chomping on a 16-oz. sirloin steak at a nearby restaurant with my parents during one of their visits to my community. When a sizable chunk of steak was left over on my plate at the end of the meal, and I said that I'd prefer to leave it, my father wanted to know why. I explained that in the community we eat a vegetarian diet, and that it wouldn't be appropriate to stick a steak in the refrigerator.
"What if you wanted to take it home, could you?" he asked, upset. "What would happen if you did eat steak there - would they kick you out?" "Who made up the rules?" and so forth. At the time, to my own detriment, I defended my community and its values vehemently. Nowadays I would take a softer approach. I would simply say, "Dad, I know you're concerned about me, but I'm doing fine," and leave it at that.
As each situation and relationship is unique, there is no foolproof set of rules as to how to approach your family and those from your past in a way that will neither alienate them, nor demand that you forfeit your personal integrity. There is, however, an underlying perspective - a context - from which you can approach them that will help to keep balance and sanity in your relationships.
This perspective is the recognition that in spite of the lifestyle choice you have made, your family is still your family, your former friends remain old friends, and they each love you in the only way they know how to. You acknowledge the cultural paranoia and misunderstanding that surrounds the issue of community in general, and therein realize that their fears and concerns are not about you, but instead about their own conditioning. Although it sounds like common sense, it can be difficult to approach your family from a new context. Even if you haven't seen them for years, you are already steeped in a family dynamic that will resist any changes you attempt to make.
When I initially approached my family about my community, the context I was coming from was: "Your values are from the dark ages, my new values are superior, and I will prove it to you at all costs." I would send them books to enlighten them, show up for family visits in outrageous community fashions, and "converse" with them as though I was some kind of community ambassador. Years later, when the rebellion had passed, my context changed entirely. Now when we're together I ask them about themselves and their lives. When they ask about my community I answer simply and bear in mind what they are able to hear and what will be over their heads. If they serve meat when we're together, I eat meat. If they want to go to the movies, I go to the movies. If they want to talk about the virtues of Republican politics...well, I keep quiet!
As a community member, the responsibility for maintaining healthy relationships with your family and those from your past rests entirely on your shoulders.
"What?!" you may ask. "They should be more understanding. They should be less judgmental, more open-minded, less prejudiced, more compassionate, less unaccepting, and so forth."
However, people will not change unless they want to change, and sitting around waiting for them to be different is a losing proposition. If you want things to be different in your relationship with your family and those from your past, you be different. Then, if they eventually do come around, consider it a bonus.
It is helpful to be aware of some of the common obstacles that community members come across when attempting to have healthy, adult relationships with their families.
Over-zealousness is a common trap for community members, especially when they initially become involved in community life. When individuals are in an "overly zealous" phase, they feel that they have found the answer to life, and they want everybody to know about it, especially their poor and ignorant families. Many people come to community as a rebellion from the way they were raised. Whether their reaction is to their individual family or to the society from which they came, their "yes" to community is simultaneously a "no" to their upbringing - and it comes across loud and clear in their interactions.
A clue to watch out for in yourself as an indication of over-zealousness is when you notice that you talk about little else besides your community...and that those listening to you aren't half as interested in what you are saying as you are! You will probably feel a sense of urgency and importance that they understand you. In reality, it is really not that important that your family and old friends understand you, much less agree with you, but when you're over-zealous, you (secretly) think that if they don't get what you are trying to communicate, that they will miss the boat as you go sailing off into the sunset.
With enough years living in community, and enough consideration of others, over-zealousness will mature into the recognition that each individual must find his or her own way, in his or her own time, and that it is not for you to tell any other person, much less your family, what to think, feel, or do.
Many community members feel guilty for having not lived up to their families' expectations of who they were to become. Whether their guilt feelings are conscious or unconscious, they feel that they have betrayed their families - depriving them of a child or sibling whom they could be proud of, and/or denying their parents the dreams they had for their children.
Guilt can show up in many forms: a constant need to try to prove yourself to your family; lying about what you're doing in community; feeling fearful of being disowned or rejected by them; or trying to make your situation appear "better" (in their opinion) than it really is.
Yet there comes a point in your maturation as an adult when you understand that the fact of being born to a particular set of parents does not oblige you to become a mirror image of their expectations for you. Psychologists call this process individuation, which simply means "to take responsibility for becoming your own person." You make an adult decision about your lifestyle, and go on about your life while remaining sensitive and considerate to your family.
Yes, I know. All communitarians are supposedly cooperative, resourceful, and compassionate. But it is much easier to be generous in our opinions and humble in our views with those who are like-minded, than with those who are capitalizing on the material world at the expense of the environment and the last remaining strains of our humanness. Let's face it, if cornered into ruthless self-honesty, many of us would have to admit that we feel that what we are doing in community really is superior to our family's values. We wouldn't be doing it if we didn't believe it. Beyond that, those of us who live in community have made, and are continually making, sacrifices in terms of comfort and resources that much of the world wouldn't even consider making. We do it because we believe in it and we know it is right, not necessarily because it is always the most comfortable or easiest option.
But self-righteousness and a superior attitude is a turnoff. To feel righteous and superior is not necessarily problematic; but to act on the basis of these feelings is. In fact, if you can admit to yourself that you believe your lifestyle is superior to theirs, you're much less likely to express it in inelegant and unconscious ways - such as sighing and rolling your eyes when a roast pig is served at Christmas dinner if you're a vegetarian, or making your brother feel like a capitalist ogre for working on Wall Street.
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I learned about righteousness the hard way. I had returned to complete my last semester at the University of Michigan after having lived in an indigenous community in Costa Rica for the previous year. I knew I wasn't easy to live with - insisting on a "meditative," "conscious," and "intentional" household even though I was the one moving into my housemates' already-established home. From the subject of organic food for all, to recycling, to house meetings that were more like support groups, it was either "go along with it my way" or suffer my subtle psychic disdain. My housemates were more than generous in the face of my arrogance, and only upon our parting did my roommate leave me a note that read, "Remember: I'm O.K., you're O.K." It hit me like a brick - nine months of inconsiderate and insensitive living was suddenly exposed in the light of her simple reminder.
A subset of righteousness is the desire to "save" our families - to convert them to the "better life" we have found. Wishing to bestow a little bit of our own enlightenment onto those we left behind, we go about dropping our subtle or not-so-subtle hints about their "unconscious" lifestyle, hoping that we might wear off on them a bit. However, trying to save our families implies to them that we think they need to be saved. Again, whereas what we see may be salvation, what they see is righteous superiority. If they are going to be influenced by us, let them be influenced because of who we are as people, not as a result of the values we impose on them.
Having said all this, there is a time to draw boundaries and a time to let sleeping dogs lie. There was a period in my early involvement with community (actually, I was only attending an alternative graduate school with a community slant to it) when my parents thought that I was in a dangerous cult. Instead of addressing this directly with me, their approach was to go through the Cult Awareness Network, hire detectives, and so forth. For a long period of time, not a month would go by when I didn't receive a flyer, a book, or a cassette tape from them that was designed to inform me as to what a dangerous situation I was in. Again, this was only a graduate school! Finally, I decided that I had had enough, and cut off contact with them for some time. After a year of no contact with my parents, I decided to give it a try again, and it's been much different since that time. There is a fine distinction between being compassionate and understanding toward our families, and allowing ourselves to remain in codependent and abusive relationships. The point is to draw a boundary, not to punish our families for the differences between us.
Instead of preaching to your family, or discounting them entirely, be a living example of your values. Share and express what you are doing in your community life through who you are as a result of your lifestyle. When you are no longer trying to prove anything to anyone, and are living your chosen lifestyle because it feels like the most mature choice you can make at this point in your life, other people see this and admire you for it, irrespective of whether they agree with what you are doing.
It was obvious to both myself and my family when I was no longer reacting to them. The tone of needing to get their approval disappeared from our conversations, and I was no longer provoked by their criticisms. I was sad that they had difficulty accepting my lifestyle, but I no longer felt guilty or responsible for their pain. From that point onward, our relationship slowly began to change. Recently I received a letter from my mother after she returned from a visit to my community. "I thought of you when I read what happened at Heaven's Gate...," the letter began, and I felt my stomach sink, "...and realized how lucky you are to be in such a lively community surrounded by such good people!"
I knew then that change was not only possible, but that it had transpired in my own life.
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