If you’d told to me ten years ago that I’d be living in a community, never mind running one, I’d have said you were crazy. I am not temperamentally suited to living in community. I need plenty of time alone. I’m a teensy bit of a control freak. And, although people often think I’m an extrovert, and although I love hanging out with folk, I am always left with less energy after being with them. Here I am – eight years later, not only living with seven other people in the temple but also overseeing our local and international Buddhist community. How did it happen, and what have I learnt?
I often find that life goes better if I pay attention to what seems to be unfolding, rather than making decisions about what I do or don’t want. When I met and fell in love with a Buddhist monk who was living in a Buddhist community, we followed the feelings we had for each other and set our lives up together in a household of two. When our little Buddhist sangha had outgrown our living room and we were tired of taking our Buddha, shrine and cushions back and forth from the space we rented every week, we paid attention when the Universe presented us with a potential lump sum. When looking for buildings that might be suitable to be temples, I noticed that this building had a self-contained flat on the ground floor and thought, I could manage to live there. And here I am!
From the very beginning, it was possible for me to live in community because I acknowledged my preferences and my limitations. This little flat, even if it does have glass doors along one side that turn it into a goldfish bowl, has a little kitchen and bedroom and living room so I knew I could retreat and be alone. Kaspa and I decided that we would eat together with the people living here once a week, which also felt do-able for me. We still do this, and it means it’s always a special occasion. There’s a balance of community members having their own separate lives, with different jobs and friends, and coming together. We share Buddhist practice, time, activism and dog walks. We have a very lovely bunch living here and they enrich my life in lots of different ways.
More honesty, more blossoming
Over time I have found that the more honest I can be about what my limits are, the more possible it is for relationships to blossom. Recently I had a friend to stay for a couple of nights. She is a good friend, and even so I was a little anxious about hosting for so long – I am used to seeing friends for shorter periods of time, especially since the pandemic. At the start of her stay I let her know about these anxious parts of me, and I felt understood and accepted by her. After lunch one day I requested some time alone to decompress a little and she was completely okay with this. Our time together became a negotiation based on both of our honest needs and preferences, and it worked very well.
In the past I would have been much more likely to ‘push through’ after lunch, and ask her what she wanted to do rather than ask for something for myself. This strategy works okay in the short term but it has a cost – both in terms of the energy I expend, but also in terms of intimacy –she’s not really spending time with all of me if I’m hiding the parts that want me to be on my own for a little while.
I am still learning how to look after myself as someone with introverted tendencies in spaces where there are other people. Some events are more tiring than others – a Friday night community meal takes minimal energy, but Buddhist practice for first timers with five nervous people I haven’t met before takes a bit more holding. Various things help – checking in with my partner beforehand so we can divide out holding the space, having mini-breaks during the day so I can check in with myself and recharge, and booking recovery time into my diary after big days like retreat days.
When needs clash
It’s all very well when I state my preferences and the other person is fine with it, but what about when my needs clash with others? Again, I have found that honesty is the best policy. If someone is disappointed that I don’t want to spend more time with them, or wants something from me that I choose not to give them, then I’m happy to hear from their disappointed or upset parts – their feelings are also valid and understandable. Sometimes I’ll feel able to shift my needs or offering, and sometimes I won’t – either way, everything is ‘on the table’ where we can look at it and decide together how to move forwards.
Over time I have been able to feel fonder of the introverted parts of me. They provide a necessary balance to the parts of me that enjoy entertaining or being the centre of attention, and the parts that work hard to keep others happy and who put their needs above my own. It feels more and more possible to make space for them in my life, alternating between times with individuals or groups, and times on my own. I am continuing to learn about myself and this is always easier when I’m not pushing myself to my absolute limit. Maybe I’ll get more extroverted in time, and spend more time with others. Maybe I’ll go the other way and become more and more of a recluse. Either way, I can accept myself and my preferences, and continue to make offerings to the world that feel comfortable to me. The kinder I am to myself, the more honest, sustainable and (hopefully) beautiful these offerings will be.
Go gently _/|\_
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