transition

I arrived here two days ago, bringing little knowledge of what to expect, to participate in a fairly unique human experiment. 'Here' is Montrose, Colorado. A new place on my travel log: I'd passed through once, on some other roadtrip, but without stopping. This town isn't a place I'd normally consider stopping. Coming in from the south, the mountain-loving traveller (already mourning the San Juans receding in the rearview) is met with trophy vacation homes waving American flags, large conventional fields of alfalfa and corn, and a gauntlet of big-box stores giving way to a traditional brick downtown district. An hour's scouting shows none of the signs of life that normally open this heart to a new city: a co-op, a lively central plaza, an active art or music or poetry scene, coffee shops with scuffed furniture and a free-book shelf. A white SUV pulls up next to me at a red light with a bumper sticker that reads "I don't trust the liberal media!" I'm not due to meet my hosts until 4 p.m., and am starting to wonder what I'm doing here.

Transition Lab found its way onto my computer screen a couple years ago, a definite sign of life. The project's founder, Russell Evans, offers an original and welcome premise: how much more fully could we be community and be ourselves, if we significantly reduced the pressures with which our normal social and economic paradigm weights us down? What if, instead of the ruthless individual struggle that leaves many of us shearing off dreams one by one in the desperate effort just to feed and house ourselves, we suddenly had a place to live, and could focus on more important goals? What if, rather than sacrifice all thoughts of meaningful projects or community involvement in order to have a career and make the mortgage, we found the extra space in our homes shared by an energetic co-conspirator, ready to help us fill in those neglected efforts? What if, having removed these very tangible blocks to creativity and vitality, we found whole new rooms of ourselves available to inhabit? How might we all breathe deep, stretch cramped muscles, and advance our gifts, skills, and hearts' desires to the next level?

These are the questions that Transition Lab attempts to answer, in ways that are refreshingly immediate, practical, and essential (as in, they get to the heart of the matter). It does so first by removing economic obstacles, as described above, and then by speeding up the process of learning, connection, and mutual support -- the avenues to those goals and gifts -- through a solid network of creative barter and educational opportunity. It's a surprisingly simple model, in essence. One that almost any city could follow -- since, as Russell points out, almost any city has homeowners with a spare room and too little spare time, and workers whose time and work would be vastly better spent outside of pure survival concerns. At the same time, it's really kind of a wonder that it's happening, of all places, here. Other, more overtly progressive communities might make more obvious the pleasant, shared escape routes from the capitalist-individualist paradigm. Portland's City Repair, or the vibrant farmer and artisan markets there and in Eugene, Boulder, Santa Fe. The lovely cohousing developments in those and other towns, available to those who can afford them.  Even Albuquerque, in the last year, has gifted its citizens with the Railyards and a Free Market downtown. Across this country, towns seem to divide pretty cleanly between forward-thinking and right-brained expressions, and, well, the opposite. Between those willing to try new (even risky) ideas in the hope of improving the quality of life for all present, and those that seem content, collectively, to tough it out in the same old, separate struggle. And, often, as well, in the same old divides of income and "quality of life" which prevent real community -- a diversity of people with room to breathe and move into self-expression and mutual support -- from ever having a chance.


But as Russell told me yesterday, "I'm doing it here, because if it can work here, it can work anywhere". And it does seem to be working. I arrived to a most pleasant welcome from people I'd never met, in a town where I didn't know anyone. That in itself is a departure from the regular script, when one thinks of energies spent just getting situated in a new place, around finding a home and meeting people. I was shown my room in the home of the president of the local Time Bank, for which I'll trade 10 hours a week on projects she wants help with. Some of my hours may even be transferable to the timebank back home. I'll spend another 20 helping out with what Russell's doing, and being introduced to more faces of the community and of this effort. Yesterday, this involved working all morning at a 40-year-old organic farm, and taking home a half share of beautiful produce. This afternoon my host and I will help an older woman build a chicken coop. From the look of things so far, in stimulating conversations with both my hosts, I'll also get to help voice the useful questions, valid frustrations, and little insights that will continue to give shape and direction to the program.


Transition Lab is only a few years old, and is still taking shape and, hopefully, growing into its potential. There's an extended program every summer that offers an even more engaging foray into the ideas mentioned above, and looks like it could really get interesting in the shifts and openings that it might invite its participants into. I hope to hear of these worthy ideas sprouting up in other communities, from the seeds planted in this unlikely place. See more at http://transition-lab.com.