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excerpts from By Ma'ikwe Ludwig "We had land and 110 combined years of community living experience; we felt we had something to share." So says Sister Ginny Jones, in a typical understatement. At least I think that’s what she said—it’s a little hard to hear over the fierce Michigan winds and the 30 feet of space between us. We are standing on retreat land of the Sisters of St. Joseph—an incredible 270 acres of mixed forest, lake front, and open space east of Kalamazoo—future home of Manitou Arbor Ecovillage. Sister Ginny and I are part of a widening circle of people placed in various locations on an open field by architect and Manitou member Christina Snyder. After numerous conversations about the ecovillage site plan, Christina has decided that standing on the land and feeling into it is the best way to communicate what little squares on paper cannot— asking how it feels to have your house that close, or that far away, from someone else’s? And so we are outside on a chilly November day, using our bodies to communicate what paper has so far failed to do. Ginny’s commitment is what has brought all these people together, at least initially. I asked three original members for some of the three-year history of the project, and one of them responded simply: “Ginny is the history.” Her commitment and her ability to inspire others has pulled together a group of eclectic, mature people, including my friends Christina Snyder and her husband, Chris Coon. I met Chris a dozen years ago, drawn together by mutual ecospiritual friends. Named “Mr. Eco-How-To,” by a mutual friend, even then Chris had a reputation for alternative technology knowledge. For nearly 20 years he had met with groups of people, and learned the skills and technical information needed to start a community. At the same time the Sisters of St. Joseph were working on their long-range land management plans, and eventually concluded that turning their property into an ecovillage might be the best stewardship possible. Yet Manitou Arbor is a profoundly interfaith project, not in spite of but because of its connections with the Sisters of St. Joseph, who seem to recognize that we live in a fundamentally interfaith world. And they have practical reasons as well. Like most groups of nuns the Sisters of St. Joseph are aging, and few young women are stepping up to take their place. If the land is to be stewarded into the future, opening the project up to a wide range of people makes more sense than keeping it in their hands alone. Group members also believe the interfaith bent of the project is important. “Trying to create this ecospiritual community with members of only one faith would be like trying to regenerate an ecosystem by planting a monoculture," says Christina. Like other group members, she believes the model of sustainability is multi-level—not just about how we do our physical interactions, but our spiritual and heart interactions as well. It seems to me that spiritually oriented ecovillages have the potential to be a real home for those who don’t hold to any one faith or personal growth practice, but rather embody the spiritual diversity of our times. Manitou Arbor is a comfortable fit for a number of very different individuals, including Mike Swords, who describes himself as a "far left radical Catholic who believes in the spiritual everywhere in existence." Sister Ginny sees ecospirituality as a function not just of individuals finding satisfying fits for themselves, but of the success of community in general. “When we relate on the deeper level,” says Ginny, “we cross any barriers of religious tradition and belief and come to a deeper relationship with each individual. Hence, real community is potentially more possible." Like may aspiring ecovillages, including Dancing Rabbit in Missouri and Earthaven in North Carolina, Manitou intends to be an educational model and demonstration project for the general public. They’re considering passive solar buildings, off-grid power from sun and wind, constructed wetlands, living machines, and strawbale, Earthship, and earth-bermed or even underground construction. Yet Manitou faces some tough issues because of its location. If the physical aspects of creating a new community in this northern clime wasn’t challenging enough (heating homes, generating power, and growing organic food in a winter-gray landscape with a short summer), local county zoning regulations and building codes make it even worse… …The group uses consensus decision-making, has a strong committee system, and regularly takes time to connect spiritually, all of which can save immense time and frustration in the long run, but require a good deal of effort up front… …I am encouraged by the members willingness to learn from other communities. They’re benefiting from the Sisters’ combined community living experience, visiting other communities, bringing in permaculture trainers from Earthaven, and drawing on Christina’s background designing cohousing and energy-efficient homes—they’re not reinventing the wheel. They are also looking at sustainability as a multifaceted process—not simply physical but social, spiritual, and cultural as well. This holistic approach, in my opinion, is the glue that holds this group together and offers real hope for its success. Meanwhile, Manitou Arbor members are meeting regularly, doing preliminary design work, test-driving their basic agreements, and celebrating the sacred together. They have a well-thought-out commitment, a “can do” attitude, and a rich sense of humor. This is a mature group, well into forging the bonds that get a forming community through the pioneer phase and into an established life together. I look forward to seeing them do it.
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