Why We Feel Called to Create an Intentional Community

We've been asked many times why we dream of creating an intentional community.

The truth is, it isn't an easy question to answer.

We've never actually lived in an intentional community before. Yet, deep within us, there is a calling that feels unmistakably like home. It's difficult to explain because it isn't based on past experience—it's based on something we feel. A quiet knowing that there is another way of living together.

That quiet knowing became impossible to ignore after a life-changing doctor's appointment. It reminded us that life is both precious and uncertain, and it invited us to question the story we'd been living. The story that tells us to work forty hours a week, contribute to systems whether we agree with them or not, gather more possessions, buy more things, take on debt to pay for them, and spend our lives chasing a version of success that often leaves little room for what truly matters.

For years, we accepted that story because it was the one we'd been handed. But eventually, we realized it was no longer the story we wanted to keep writing.

It was time to begin a new chapter.

So we started asking ourselves different questions.

How do we really want to live?

What kind of life feels aligned with our values, our beliefs, and that quiet knowing we've carried inside us for so long?

Interestingly, we weren't searching for community.

We were searching for alignment.

Community simply kept appearing as part of the answer.

Perhaps what draws us toward community feels more like a dream than a carefully mapped-out plan. But who says we aren't meant to live our dreams?

When we remember that we belong to the Earth, to one another, and to all life, we begin to see that community isn't defined by shared land alone. It's shaped by shared values, shared purpose, and a willingness to walk through life together. That is the kind of culture we dream of nurturing. Not because we think we've found the "right" way to live, but because it feels like a more authentic way for us to live.

community potluck gathering

When we imagine this community, it's often the simplest moments that come to mind. Evenings gathered around a fire. Children laughing as they cool off together in the creek. Hands in the garden. Shared meals. Meaningful conversations. Moments of quiet companionship where no one has to pretend to have it all together.

These are all things we can experience on our own, but how much richer do they become when they're shared?

One of the first images that warms our hearts is sharing meals together. Food has always been about more than nourishment—it has always been about connection.

Recently, I spent an afternoon harvesting and processing mangoes on my own. As I peeled fruit, stirred jam, and filled jars, I found myself wondering what the experience might have felt like if others had been there alongside me. Sharing stories while peeling fruit. Laughing over sticky hands. Passing jars back and forth across the table.

Would the mangoes have tasted any different? Probably not. But every jar would have carried something extra. More laughter. More stories. More shared energy. More love.

We often wonder what becomes possible when we're surrounded by people who genuinely want to see one another flourish. What can we learn when someone offers a perspective we've never considered? What happens when our fears or old wounds rise to the surface and we're met with compassion instead of judgment? Growth is rarely comfortable, but perhaps it becomes a little easier when we don't have to walk through it alone.

Community is also about sharing resources. When we share tools, equipment, and spaces, we naturally reduce consumption and lessen our impact on the Earth. We also reduce costs, creating more freedom—more time, more energy, and more resources to invest in the things that truly matter.

Take something as simple as a washing machine. If one machine can comfortably serve three or four families, that's fewer machines needing to be manufactured, transported, maintained, and eventually discarded. Small choices like these may seem insignificant on their own, but together they create a lighter footprint for both people and the planet.

Another beautiful aspect of community is the opportunity to continually learn from one another. Every person carries unique gifts, experiences, perspectives, and skills. None of us knows everything, and none of us has to. One person's strengths naturally become another person's support. We teach. We learn. We inspire. We grow. Together.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts of community is that it helps restore something we believe the world is quietly longing for: connection.

We live in a time where we're often encouraged to focus on what makes us different. We celebrate our individuality, our unique stories, and our diverse experiences—and there is genuine beauty in all of that. But alongside our uniqueness, we long to remember something even deeper: that we belong to one another. Not only as human beings, but as part of the living Earth itself. The winged ones who greet the dawn. The four-leggeds who walk beside us. The rooted ones who quietly sustain us. The waters that give us life. The forests that shelter us. And all the seen and unseen life that shares this beautiful planet.

Perhaps our calling isn't to create community at all.

Perhaps our calling is to lovingly steward a place where community has the opportunity to emerge.

A place where people feel welcome to bring their gifts, their questions, their dreams, and their whole selves. A place where relationships with self, one another, and the land can deepen over time. A place where we learn not only from books or teachers, but from shared experience, honest conversation, and the quiet wisdom that surrounds us.

We don't know exactly what Human Nature Sanctuary will become, because we don't believe this vision belongs to us alone. We simply feel called to care for the land, to tend the relationships, and to create opportunities for others to join us in remembering a way of belonging that has always been possible.

Perhaps that is what we're being called to remember.

Not a new Earth.

But a new way of being together upon this one.