Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Reverb 10 Day 7 / Prompt Author: Cali Harris)

As a digital strategist and yoga studio owner, I'm frequently asked how to create communities on and off the web. I see cross-over. This isn't meant to be a definitive guide, but an answer-in-motion. I encourage you to ask your questions in the comments. I'll answer best I can - would love for it to be a resource and an ongoing dialog. 

Can you create community? It's a question I've asked myself since I started participating in, and earnestly encouraging, the growth of communities. The first community for which I intentionally set a container was the yoga studio in Japan. Everything decision - from location, to floor materials, to lighting - every decision was made with the community in mind.

Setting the container is the first step to working with a community. I'm not sure create is what you do. But you do set a container in which a community feels safe to grow. That's not a one time thing, either. That's a moment-to-moment decision-making process. The best communities I've found have been the ones in which there was constant motion, constant question-asking, perpetual growth, even through challenges.

What moves a project from I-focused to we-focused? The project, in my mind, becomes community-focused the moment you shift into the shoes (or bare feet) of the end user. With the studio, I considered how many yoga mats I could comfortably fit into the space. I rolled out mats, placed them alongside each other, and practiced in each position. I imagined where the teacher would be and how I'd feel as a student. A community has the potential to coalesce out of the question: how will the community best be served?

Can social web community interactions lead to "real"/offline community? Last year, with #best09 (now #reverb10), a community of around 1,000 (this year so far 3,000) participants signed up. Participation and connection is encouraged on Twitter with a hash tag. It's carried over to blogs and sometimes those relationships are turned into coffee dates. Online interaction, in my case, leads to offline connection. I choose that. Not everyone does, but it's possible.

The quality of the connection is dependent on the quality of attention you give it. It doesn't matter whether it's online or offline. A community requires points of shared interests. It's built on the foundation (I choose that word - foundation) of vulnerability. Community grows out of a sense of shared purpose. That's as true for communities on the web as it is offline communities. Community requires commitment. The commitment comes both from within - from its members - and from outside - from those setting the container.

How does the social web encourage community growth? The social web is powerless without us. It's powered by people. The social web is the name we've given modern, rapid-fire storytelling. Twitter, Facebook, blog posts, Flickr photos, Path updates.

Add a fire, take away the computer, you've got plain ol' storytelling.

This social web is, itself, the collection of a variety of tools, voices and perspectives. It's the medium, not the result.  If we wake up tomorrow and collectively decide to abandon Twitter, Twitter will have no power. Twitter would be an empty shell without the stories told within that container.  

How do we create intimate spaces in a digital world? I'm writing a book on this topic. I want to know about how we're creating intimate spaces in a digital world. While I absolutely believe a loss of intimacy has come from technology, what we've gained is a new kind of connection.

I believe many of modern web workers have settled for ambient connectivity - the combination of Foursquare checkins, Twitter updates, blog posts and text messages that make us feel connected without us needing to look a person in the eye. It's a double-edged sword. It's the poison and the cure.

The social web is similar to offline community in that can facilitate the sense of shared experience. It's different in that it distracts us from actual shared neighborly experiences. Do you know your neighbor's names? Do you know the names of everyone in your actual neighborhood? I don't. But I do know the handles of several thousand people on Twitter. (Should this concern us?)

What happens when communities end? Here's a question that makes people uncomfortable. What happens when a community ends? Earlier this year when Ning moved to a pay model, hundreds of digital citizens found themselves suddenly without a home. This is a question I continue to explore. How to set containers - but also how to navigate the loss of a container - on and off the web. 

What are your experiences with community - online and off the web? I invite your questions and comments.