Her window was open, but she was not visible. I sensed a faint glumness behind the wan smiles, an energy pervading the group of neighbors gathered beneath the open window. Lora Lee was diagnosed a few weeks before, but her time was short. We gathered to serenade our beloved community member, a woman who will forever be associated with the beauty of our campus as she headed up our community landscaping for years.

This month's lead article is about finding one’s tribe, which it describes as “those that resonate with our own core values, interests and lifestyle … The point is to surround ourselves with supportive individuals that uplift us and provide a sense of belonging.”

I live with my tribe in a cohousing community. There are only 300 such communities in the United States, and East Lake Commons (ELC), my community, was the 59th to be established. Cohousing.org says, “Cohousing is an intentional, collaborative neighborhood that combines private homes with shared indoor and outdoor spaces designed to support an active and interdependent community life … In a way, it all comes down to making the world a better place. Connection, environmentalism, security and community support all draw neighbors to cohousing communities.”

My then-wife, Pam, and I are founding members of ELC. Indeed, the very first meeting of the group that became ELC was held in our Dunwoody home.

Funny story. When we realized the meeting had been scheduled during the Super Bowl, we asked who had a party to attend. Just one person responded. As a joke, we intentionally scheduled a meeting during the Super Bowl for the next several years.

I tell you this to introduce a big caveat to my overall view that tribal living is wonderful, beautiful and satisfying. One might think that living among one’s tribe makes life smooth, easy and enjoyable, but the truth is that ELC has suffered through a similar sort of divisiveness that characterizes much of today’s America. While there have been moments of genuine nastiness, at least the level of it doesn’t come close to what we see in society at large.

Nevertheless, we are all human, and, at times, some community members do exhibit our species’ less-than-wonderful traits of being self-centered and judgmental.

Yet there are many cool heads and warm hearts here, too, and whenever an issue causes division, one individual or another steps up to moderate and modulate. So yes, we experience divisiveness, but, no, we are not at a loss for mitigating factors.

In the end, it’s the end that matters most. When someone asks me what the best part of living in a community is, I tell them, “We do death really well.” That may sound too narrow and too rare because death’s visits are infrequent, but it is exactly in these most difficult of times that the heart and soul of community are revealed in all their glory.

The spontaneous support pouring from residents across the community is unmatched by anything I’ve seen in society at large. Meal trains are formed. People sign up to help with personal assistance needs. Chauffer service is guaranteed.

When Jane, the original owner of the house I live in, fell ill and embarked on her final journey, the support was unbelievable. Jane had no family, and community members signed up as family; one of our own took the lead in all healthcare arrangements and decisions. That fact alone still startles me.

Our community’s death stories are now too numerous to tell, but they might be the very best examples of what it means to live with one’s tribe. We all care. We all love. We all do our part. Including a time many years ago when my young son Carter, a talented cellist, played outside the bedroom of our dying neighbor Beth, gracing her ear with some final soulful tones. ❧

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Publisher of Natural Awakenings Atlanta since 2017, Paul Chen’s professional background includes strategic planning, marketing management and qualitative research. He practices Mahayana Buddhism and kriya yoga. Contact him at [email protected].