This is the story of someone who set out into the world to find what was within him from the beginning. It is the story of a conquest in two steps, with almost 30 years in between. It is the story of a great love and it is the story of a humanitarian who couldn’t decide between cynic and hermit. And it is the story of people like Rachel, who wants to control a group by creating dependence on her. And above all, it is your story.
“Those who talk most about the system are those who want to step out.”
Some people know the famous film “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” by director Miloš Forman, starring Jack Nicholson as Randle Patrick McMurphy. 30 years ago, I would have written “everyone,” but the fragmentation of society has already progressed far.
In all ages, people set out to leave old communities and seek new ones. Some then find them. The old communities are often their own families, the neighbors’ kids down the street, colleagues at school and university. The many people who also knocked on our door in search of the right community often initially describe a longing for peace and quiet and a rejection of the intrusive norms and rules of a post-capitalist – now already post-factual – society. They are drawn to places where people meet without a sense of roles and devote their attention to what truly interests them – at that particular moment. After a short time, a sense of lack often sets in. On the one hand, they recognize that this way of life promises no security – nor does it contain any; on the other hand, it is laborious to recognize the new modes of real coexistence that arise from the composition of the group. A clear structure, the formulation of goals, milestones along the way, and, above all, good planning – against entropy and senseless redundancy – would be a much better endeavor. Instead of a “better” life, they are offered only a “different” life. In Familiafeliz and many other communities, we sometimes call these seekers “community tourists.” In fact, these people set out to find something ideal, put in a lot of effort, and are often very helpful and friendly. Some exploit themselves, others are happy to be exploited. Sometimes one gets the impression that failure is anticipated, and that the real reason for the visit is the search for proof that one’s own wish cannot be realized.
Then tension sets in. What was initially the tension of realizing that one’s own expectations and wishes are not adequately accepted and realized by the group of people one meets at Familiafeliz expands into tension with this group of “others.” And once again, one is left with the realization that one has not found the right thing, even though one had given so much and contributed so much to its success.
What began as a spatial journey always ends as a journey within oneself. It is not new to realize that one always brings oneself with oneself to the new place. Whoever wants to be happy will find this happiness within themselves. Circumstances may or may not contribute to the amplification, but ultimately it doesn’t matter: Ukraine, Gaza, Yemen, or Al-Andaluz. This was a list, by the way, not a comparison. Today’s arts pages often denounce what appears to be a list and is intended to convey to the viewer as an outrageous comparison.
“Sovereign is someone who says no without justification.”
The beginning of Familiafeliz also has something to do with the reconstruction of a ruin in eastern Spain. The deliberate dedication of one’s life to rebuilding a ruin in a small mountain village and thus revitalizing the village is simply presumptuous because its effects are unforeseeable. Starting something without being able to assess the consequences—and knowing them—is a building block for one’s own happiness. Seeing failure as an opportunity is also helpful. With the purchase of the garden land, we were able to express that this desire to settle down goes much further. However, it was not intended as an appropriation and accumulation of values; rather, the acquisition of land was intended to contribute to one’s own nutrition and, above all, to offer future generations space for settlement and activity.
There were also magical moments: the first bag of cement in the house, which was mixed with sand and water on the floor with shovels, just as we had started with Lilli and Karl Heinz in France. And there was an iron rod that we had driven into the garden as a reference for all the flowerbeds and infrastructure. Every measurement begins with arbitrariness. And thus every measure also begins with arbitrariness.
A visitor once remarked that this weak community with such strong members must recognize that there are many weak people who are incapable of such arbitrariness and who nevertheless also need space, affection, and love, and who also deserve a chance. She’s right. But where this space lies is up to each individual.
In the face of the ignorance—even among friends—that is evident in decaying societies, one can become a cynic. If you’re also extroverted, the doors to the world’s stages are wide open, once at the theater on stage, now YouTube and Tic-toc. In these antisocial media, these cynics struggle for clicks, likes, and reach, yet, like all social beings, they lose themselves in the quest to be heard, if not listened to.
An alternative community then becomes the stage for their own performance, the audience claps because they think just as alternatively, and for a moment, there’s satisfaction that they’re not so alone after all. When the minority fantasizes about the future in the back room, the brave new world is possible, at least for a moment.
“Anyone who says it can’t be done without money wants to make a difference.”
Alternatively, you can seek the open spaces, distance yourself as far as possible from the structures of these societies. A community away from the villages, in a sparsely populated area, might be just the thing. There, nature touches you. The interfaces of society no longer hurt as much. That’s where you want to stay, with an in-house job on the field, with your own chickens, and only with your friends around you, who are also fed up with a society that is clearly falling apart, that dances on its own magic mountain, calls to arms, and already looks at the culprit. Anyone who doesn’t go along with it is an enemy. They are met with contempt and hatred, driven by their own insecurity. The cave becomes a comforting place of rest, and the shadows on the wall fade in the circle of fire.
In the showdown, these two groups meet in the alternative communities. The stage is set by the strong pioneers who begin without knowing where their journey really leads. They invite people with the desire to find like-minded people who also want to set out, who can lend a hand, who know about the hardship and aren’t afraid of it. And then come the cynics, who have chosen language and writing to get out and don’t understand that you build toilets first, then libraries. And then there are the dropouts who can’t leave and who want a safe space of peace. They all sit together, and it feels like a community, but not at all like the community one would like to be part of.
Randle Patrick McMurphy wants to escape forced labor in prison (the system). He simulates a mental illness. The system (society) reacts as expected. He is forcibly admitted to a clinic. There, however, he isn’t supposed to receive treatment in the sense of recovery; rather, he is supposed to learn the rules of the system. Don’t stand out, stay calm, adapt, take your pill. Efficiency then also requires conformity. The individual only gets in the way. And having fun is certainly not on the agenda. Humor is disruptive. Randle provokes and pulls some out of their lethargy. The consequences are catastrophic, for his fellow sufferers, and ultimately for him as well. The so-called system always reacts the same way. It treats the symptoms and is efficient in defending the status quo. Although these conditions may be described as “unsustainable,” they are perceived as fairly solid and lasting. But more than that, they are the recurrence of similar processes that build on one another and alternate. Every empire has its heyday, but also its before and after.
The people who gather on the hill at the edge of the wall, far from the village and the city, want to escape exploitation and arbitrary rule. But they are preparing the ground for even greater arbitrary rule.
“It’s the people who should be loved who can do something and don’t do it.”
The village of Cervera del Maestre in Castellon has always been a special place. Under the Moors, it was a strategic military pillar for occupation and defense. With its fall, a void was created that was filled by migrants from Cervera near Igualada in Catalonia. The poor families set out, quarried stones from the ruins, and used them to build the village we know today. They reclaimed the fallow land and, amazed, restarted the water management system of the old lords. These were pioneers who had no idea where their journey would lead. A community certainly also formed, one that spawned such clever initiatives as a “poor man’s bank.” It was also enough to build and fortify a mountain village, a safe place to harvest the crops despite the cold. The village was a village of Catalans in the diaspora. Surrounded by Valencians, they retained their language and culture and were successful in agriculture and trade. The Cerverinos—as they still proudly call themselves today—were so successful that one night the residents of Traguera came by and slaughtered most of the men to dampen their success somewhat. That’s how the old folks tell it.
All of this is history. All of this is a process. These processes follow one another, merge into one another, and alternate. At some point, it appears as a pattern, becomes obvious. And the thought arises that it is a kind of repetition.
Here, one read about the introverts, the extroverts, the doers, and the participants. A bridge was drawn from the old to the new history, and from the communities of yesteryear to the alternative ones of today. It was a journey through the thoughts of a person living in community. One might get the impression that all the protagonists of this story are the many, and that oneself is the individual. But isn’t it also the story of oneself, one’s own soul, inhabited by all the players with their roles, struggling for the best path through life.
When you watch a small child play, you can enjoy how one moment they are a construction worker, the next a policeman, the next a bus driver, and then a child in the sandbox. The child switches roles so quickly, seamlessly, without the weight of adults. They try things out, or they are tried out. Perhaps all these individuals live as memes in the soul and are nothing other than the archetypes of societies. And in the child, they try things out and take on this essence. In the end, one often gains the upper hand. The others sink back into the unconscious.
When all these role models meet in the subconscious soul of each person, and when all these archetypes find themselves reflected in life around the fire circle, then the soul is the place of the event. Then the first great love would be love for oneself—and for one’s strengths and weaknesses. Then the first peace would be peace with oneself.
“Sinnhaft ist auch Haft. (A play on the words in German, meaning: whoever seeks meaning also locks himself in.)”
Coming from the Savannah, we are able to find our way in manageable groups. Two hundred people are too many; a clan of 64 is still manageable.
According to Bernstein and Lowy, the life of a group can be divided into several phases: orientation, power struggles, familiarity, differentiation, and separation. What would a world look like in which these phases find space simultaneously, within oneself and within one’s own group? What would happen if one allowed all these phases to exist within oneself and within one’s own group?
“It will be as it is.”
The photos in this article are impressions from our home in Windeck near Cologne. They tell many stories that are only revealed to those who ask. They were taken at the same time as this article was written. The quotes are from encounters with people in the Familiafeliz community.
“The best thing we can do is go on with our daily routine,” says the repressive Head Nurse Ratched in the famous film “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. Most people seek support in structures and then lose themselves to those who provide them. The price is sometimes their own life.
