When I first began to understand the scale of collapse, the hardest part wasn’t the fear – it was the aloneness.
The sense that no one around me could see it. That even those I loved didn’t want to talk about it.
Collapse awareness – the understanding that we are living through the unraveling of systems we once relied upon – can be deeply isolating.
Once you see the fragility of the world around you, it becomes difficult to unsee. Old friendships may falter. Family dynamics can grow strained. The deeper this awareness becomes, the more tempting it is to retreat, to withdraw from others altogether.
But isolation is not the answer.
If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is this: we cannot do this alone.
Whatever lies ahead, we will need each other. Community is not a luxury. It is a foundation for resilience, for orientation, and for hope.
The challenge lies in knowing how to build it.
This post is not a prescription, but a starting point. A few reflections that might help.
1. Start Where You Are
When we imagine building community, we often picture grand efforts: forming groups, hosting events, creating new systems. But in reality, it usually begins in quieter, more ordinary ways.
When I moved to Tasmania four years ago, I felt unmoored. I had lived most of my life in cities, surrounded by people who shared my worldview and values. Moving to the countryside at the height of the pandemic was disorienting. My neighbours weren’t people I naturally connected with. Our politics, beliefs, and priorities often felt worlds apart.
At first, I kept my distance. But over time, I came to realise these neighbours were my community. These were the people I would turn to in a crisis, whether I felt aligned with them or not.
So I began to lean in. It started with small gestures – sharing tools, exchanging produce, dropping off meals when someone was unwell. Eventually we began sharing dinners and looking after each other’s children. Our conversations about politics are still cautious, but the mutual care remains.
What began as surface-level contact has grown into some of the strongest relationships in my life. These are the people I would trust in an emergency. People who have, quietly and steadily, become part of my world.
Community doesn’t always need to be built from scratch. Often, it simply needs to be noticed – and then nurtured.
2. Embrace Resourcefulness, Not Resources
For a long time, I believed resilience was something I had to cultivate on my own. I focused on acquiring skills, prepping, and trying to control what I could. I thought money and resources were what mattered most.
But living rurally changed that.
My in-laws repurpose almost everything. My mother-in-law sews daily and preserves much of what they grow. They keep bees, tend their land, and live in a way that makes the most of what they have. Watching them, I began to understand that resourcefulness – not resources – is what truly sustains people.
These are not just practical skills. They are ways of creating stability, connection, and resilience.
I began learning hand sewing through our local Steiner playgroup, and discovered that making bread is one of the simplest, most satisfying things in the world. These practices offered more than self-sufficiency. They helped foster trust, reciprocity, and a sense of belonging.
These practices offer more than just practical resilience. They help rebuild the fabric of interdependence.
A few ideas to start:
Food sharing: Organise a crop swap, start a meal circle, or join a community garden
Resource pooling: Could your street share tools, childcare, or bulk grocery orders?
Skill trading: Think sewing, bike repairs, preserving food – practical exchanges that build connection
Mutual aid: Small, informal networks can become lifelines – babysitting, errands, checking in on neighbours
3. Join Nature-Based or Ecological Groups
One of the first things I did after moving here was join a local climate resilience group. I always find the best kinds of people in these spaces, and many have become close friends.
Back in New Zealand, my parents helped establish a wetland restoration project in their valley. It began as a conservation effort and evolved into a thriving community network. Shared meals, working bees, and quiet companionship have sustained it.
Consider:
Landcare or bush regeneration groups
Permaculture networks and community gardens
Environmental organisations offering local volunteering
Even without formal groups, walking the same trail each week or visiting a local park regularly can foster gentle, organic connections.
4. Embrace Intergenerational Connection
Some of our deepest relationships in recent years have been with my in-laws. These relationships have taken effort and care. We do not always agree, but we have invested in one another because it matters.
They have lived in this valley for over 35 years. The knowledge they carry – about land, weather, growing food, and rural life – has shaped the way we now live.
There have been moments when I’ve had to humble myself. To listen when I would rather resist. To accept advice I didn’t want to hear. But time and again, their experience has helped us find steadiness.
Our children benefit from their presence. And so do we.
5. Cultivate Slow Relationships
When I first arrived here, I longed for the kind of deep friendships I had left behind. I went to events hoping to find “my people,” but those efforts often left me disappointed.
What I didn’t understand then was that rural friendships often unfold slowly. The people I am closest to now aren’t those I clicked with instantly. They are the ones I passed at the mailbox, saw each week at the market, or met at playgroup.
Some of my dearest friendships began with cups of tea while our toddlers played nearby. It wasn’t big moments that built those relationships – it was the quiet consistency of showing up.
6. Tend to Fractured Spaces
One of the hardest parts of community life right now is navigating division – especially when loved ones hold drastically different views.
A few things that help:
Focus on shared values, not beliefs. Many people still value family, safety, and care for place
Stay grounded in hard conversations. Emotional regulation can shift the tone more than words can
Set boundaries where needed. Not every relationship can or should be repaired
The goal is not forced harmony. It is to preserve relationship where mutual respect remains possible.
7. Reimagine What Community Means
Many people feel disheartened because they are looking for the wrong kind of community – something polished, perfectly aligned, or spiritually ideal.
But real community is often messy. It is made up of people who disagree, who annoy us, who show up anyway.
Resilient communities are not built on uniformity. They are built on the willingness to stay in relationship through discomfort, to listen, and to keep returning.
8. Treat Community as a Practice
Perhaps most importantly, community is not a task to be completed. It is a practice. Something we tend to, return to, and repair over time.
If you are feeling isolated, know that you are not alone in that feeling. There are people nearby who are longing for the same things you are – connection, purpose, and the reassurance that we are not facing this alone.
Community does not need to be perfect to be powerful. It just needs people who are willing to keep showing up.
A Gentle Invitation
Building community is hard – especially in a world that encourages individualism, consumption, and distraction.
But connection is one of the most powerful antidotes to collapse anxiety. It reminds us that no matter what happens next, we do not have to face it alone.
So wherever you are – whether in a city apartment or a quiet rural town – I invite you to take one small step.
Say hello to a neighbour. Offer something you have. Go to a local event, even if it feels awkward.
The world is full of quiet, ordinary people who are also trying to figure this out.
You just need to find them. And they are probably closer than you think.
"I started learning hand sewing through our local Steiner playgroup, and I discovered that making bread is one of the easiest things in the world." I loved reading this! I had a peripatetic childhood, but my favorite school I ever went to was a Steiner school in Sydney♥️🙏🕊️
Gabrielle, I am so happy to find this article and your work. Substack is so funny in this way because I was looking for this information, but hadn't actually needed to tell anyone or search for it. I'm thinking of this as a reference guide/map for myself. And will read and re-read. Deeply grateful.