Visiting Twin Oaks

"Are you new in town?”

“I’m visiting Twin Oaks, out by Louisa.”

“Twin Oaks? What’s that?”

[I don’t say: “Ah, it’s an egalitarian income-sharing intentional community based in principles of non-violence, sustainability, cooperation, and equality.”]

I generally say: “It’s a community where people live and work together.”

“Huh. Are you moving here?”

“Nope,” I say. “I’m just here to learn.”

And I’m learning a huge amount, every day.

Describing Twin Oaks is difficult, much like trying to describe an entire country.

Try to do it. Say, with Belgium.

Personally, I would be flummoxed, and start screaming, “Waffles! European Union! Diamonds! Problematic imperialistic past! Dutch, Flemish, French, Walloons! Lovely buildings! Ardennes! The Congo! Tintin, Magritte, and Rubens! Brave little Belgium! Chocolate!”

It's hard to sum up a whole county.

The rules at Twin Oaks (called “norms”) are different from real-world conventions. There is a consciousness here, a mindfulness, that subtly spices every conversation: like a thin hint of cilantro, or a splash of lime. Twin Oaks has more flavor than the bread of the real world.

In many ways, Twin Oaks reminds me of communities in science fiction novels – the Fremen in Dune, their eye-whites turned blue under the influence of the spice, or the polyglot families in Ursula K. Le Guin novels. The effect is unsurprising: Twin Oaks was inspired from Walden 2.0, a novel by BF Skinner that mimics a recipe for the ideal Utopian community.

“Is it Utopia yet?”

“Nah, but you can see it from here.”

There are 92 people at Twin Oaks right now, with 12 children and 2 on the way. They are all different, but very kind. Very, very kind. Many are passionate about a specific cause – peak oil, gay rights, egalitarian consciousness, literature, print-making. Some are more devoted to just living simply without the annoyances of the “normal” world, free from taxes to traffic. Some are delighted to raise their children in a safe community, to make friends with all around them. Some enjoy living in community, without loneliness or isolation. Some want to practice what they preach – to be as truly sustainable as they can, to live an austere life, and to raise the food that they eat.

It smells so good here, with just that splash of lime.

For the past few days, I’ve been working very hard. As a visitor, I don’t really have the time here to learn the more complex skills -- cheese making, automotive repair, or animal husbandry -- but I’ve got the strong back to get any shoveling job done. I can rake and dig and clean. I can raise flowerbeds, plant garlic and daffodils, and saw wood apart. The members give us orientations on everything from Membership to Child-care. I can learn how the community works.

But the biggest type of learning is meeting all these people, hearing their passions, and learning how they all live together.

In DC, the city of networking, I felt as if my random conversations were always closed, as if I was trying to tease open the drawers of a very tightly-clenched bureau. Inside were fascinating clothes, but all shut up. Here, each conversation is a huge hallway of doors, all leading to different communities, different lifestyles, different countries. To Utah, to Germany, to England. Each day, there are more welcome mats in front of the doors.

I’m going to start opening doors soon. And soon, I’ll start making my own.


PS: (I love it here.)