I spoke to a friend in Tehran last week. A missile had blown up the house next door the night before, together with its inhabitants. The other families in the neighborhood were caring for the victims. I listened with a feeling of helplessness and could only express what was true—he and his wife and young child were in my thoughts and prayers. He responded in a resonant but unsteady voice.
“Please keep us, and all people affected by war—no matter where—in your prayers and thoughts.”
The conversation was a reminder that ordinary people, even when abused by cataclysmic forces, are generally peaceful and considerate of one another. It was a reminder of the importance of continuously investing in relationships with those whom my fate leads to be my neighbor.
I see that to do this well I cannot afford to expend energy worrying about large problems for which I have no solution. Rather, I am invited to strive to develop myself, my relationships with those in my circle and in my community.
In this direction, I have been looking for examples of goodness arising in our locale at the level of basic human needs—food, connection, and creativity. Below are just a few I’ve met this winter. I know the founders and their work. I’ve visited the places and received an impression of goodness.
First is a small dairy farm in Gardiner I have visited for almost two decades to get raw milk and farm eggs for my family. It’s called Old Ford Farm and is run by Becky and Joe Fullam. They are always there working, often with their young children in tow. Cows from their small herd of Jerseys, with their huge warm eyes with long lashes, look curiously toward the car as I pull in. If there’s time I give them a scratch on the top of the head and thank them for their milk.
The farm is among many local businesses that operate on trust. Becky and Joe post their prices and put out a box with a sign that reads “pay here.” When I first visited, I was amazed that there is abundant produce and a box of unattended cash in their self-serve store. Now I take it for granted that a trust economy not only works but also feels right. The farm is a treasure of the community.
A few years ago, I went shopping and discovered I had forgotten my wallet. I texted Becky to ask if I could send my payment by Venmo.
“No, we don’t trust Venmo. Just pay the next time you come,” was her reply.
Her response made me smile not only because I love that a business chooses to operate without the mediation of a third-party financial service in the cloud, but because Becky trusts people more than institutions.
The spirit of a trust economy extends to other types of cooperative enterprises. Signs point to an emergent trend. People are coming together to form clubs and gathering places, to make connections that afford real value and lead to creative work with a shared sensibility—to reinvent the commons.
Neuland in Stone Ridge, self-described as “a new social club, by and for makers, creatives, doers and visionaries who enjoy the company of others and a good ROI (Return of Inspiration)”. Fifty-two members lead an inquiry, discussion, or experience weekly throughout the year.
Another is Full Circle Commons, a project of Mike Benevento and family, in Gardiner—“a nonprofit community hub for creativity, connection, and gathering” with a public space available to the community, a bakery, a restaurant, and a common indoor and outdoor area where things can happen. Their mission places them in the context of the concept of Value-Networked Villages. From Full Circle’s mission statement: “Value-Networked Villages are a living hypothesis: that culture, care, and coherence rebuilt at the local level can form a resilient foundation for wider change. Even if the network never fully forms at scale, each village remains meaningful in its own right. A single, well-held node improves the lives of the people within it and the place it inhabits.”
And The Ellis in Newburgh, which hosted this month’s Chronogram photo pop-up in which photographer David McIntyre made pictures of 75 people and groups in three hours. The results of this vibrant event appear on page 48. A former church, The Ellis has been reimagined as a sanctuary for creativity, connection, and transformation where music, art, and human experience converge.
I am struck by how a resilient, interconnected community and local economy form a lawful ecosystem. In natural ecosystems, we see one living organism in which a whole spectrum of different creatures form something like a singular body. Each part feeds and is fed, and the whole system thrives to the degree that each creature is able to be fully itself, to be more fully healthy and alive. A greater intelligence is allowed to emerge through the interconnectedness of the whole.
This article appears in April 2026.
