The Importance of Community

Western culture seems to lean more heavily into individualism all the time. We’re encouraged to look out for ourselves, celebrate our own uniqueness, prioritise our own needs, focus on increasing our own wealth, our own wellbeing.

It hasn’t made us happier.

In fact a 2015 study of happiness found that the pursuit of happiness in individualistic cultures left people feeling less well off than before. Conversely, they found that the pursuit of happiness within collectivistic cultures led to increased well being.

When we seek happiness as a group, we are better off. When we engage with others in a collective pursuit, we benefit.

The past week has been an excellent reminder of this for me. 

On Friday, I enjoyed a sailing excursion on the NZ Maritime Museum’s sailboat, Ted Ashby. The boat was manned by a crew of retired volunteers. Every one of the volunteers was having as much fun as the tourists on board. The fellow I chatted with gushed about how volunteering gave him the opportunity to hang out with other sailors, enjoy the water, sail on a historic boat (without the expense of owning it), and share his passion for sailing with others. He was happy because he was sharing his interests, his time, his energy.

On Saturday and Sunday, I attended the Storylines Children’s Writers and Illustrators’ National Hui. I enjoyed two days of talks and workshops, and chatted with dozens of other writers during breaks and meals. Although the weekend was exhausting for introverted me, I came away bursting with ideas, charged with purpose, and ready to tackle my own writing with renewed vigour, and with a feeling of support from countless others.

On Monday, the gardening group I’m a part of met for our bi-weekly catch-up. As always, our stroll through a member’s garden was accompanied by discussions of everyone’s successes and failures so far in this growing season. We discussed ideas, techniques, and frustrations. During the post-stroll cup of tea, conversation wandered freely to all aspects of rural life. People exchanged seeds, plants and produce, shared photos of recent projects, and commiserated about the weather. I know that whenever I’m in need of advice, plants, or anything, all I need do is reach out to the group. My glorious garden is a testament to the influence of the community. I could not have created it without them.

We cannot hope to succeed as individuals without a community of support around us. We cannot hope to thrive without others who thrive alongside us. We cannot hope for happiness without feeding the happiness of others.

Our leaders, our governments seem to have forgotten this. Collectively, we have forgotten this. We cannot simply take, we must give. We cannot expect support unless we provide it, too.

Life should not be about you. Life should not be about me. It should be about us. Together we are powerful, we are nurtured. We lift others up, and they pull us up with them.

I am blessed to be part of several communities of people who gather for mutual support around a particular passion. I’m also thankful to be part of a physical community made of the people who live in my town—a community that hosts a produce exchange and a little library, one that organises a trick-or-treat map of participating households, one that rallied with sidewalk messages and games, painted rocks, and window messages during Covid lockdown. 

What communities are you part of? What communities can you nurture? How can you chase happiness with others?

The Stories We Live By

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the stories we tell ourselves.

Specifically, the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. 

I’ve listened to a lot of friends’ and family members’ stories recently, and it’s got me thinking about the power of the narratives we build about ourselves in our own minds. Those stories can turn almost anything into the truth, because we live the life we believe to be true about ourselves.

That’s a lot of power to give a story.

I’ve seen that power at work in my own life. There have been times when I’ve spun a narrative about myself in my head that was true, but depressing. It’s easy to find those sorts of stories to tell ourselves, because of course, bad things have happened to all of us, we’ve all made bad decisions, we’ve all experienced loss. 

But by focusing on the victim/fool/bereaved narratives in our lives, we give power to those stories. Those stories become who we are. 

As a survivor of multiple sexual assaults whose career has been derailed over and over by the classic forces of gender bias in our society, I could narrate a bitter and dissatisfied story for myself. Sometimes I’ve fallen into that trap, and it has led only to anger, depression and despair. It has given immense power to those negative experiences of the past.

It is better by far to narrate a story of resilience, support, love, and surprising opportunities. Because those things have been a part of my life too, and they make a much better story to live in. By building a positive story in my mind, I wrest power away from the negative. I actually increase my happiness and my strength by reminding myself that it’s always been there, even at the worst of times. My internal narrative can include those bad things, but focus on how they helped me grow, how I used the negative as inspiration for change, how the negative highlights the positive in life.

It’s not that I believe we shouldn’t tell those stories of injustice or pain in our own lives. As a society, we can’t shove that stuff under the rug and not address it. We can’t pretend it doesn’t happen.

But as an individual, I can acknowledge all the shit of life and still build a positive narrative to tell myself about myself. 

Is it easy? No, not always. But it’s easier if I focus on the present. It’s easier if I look to the future. It’s easier if I focus on the things that are within my scope of influence. It’s easier if I refuse to label myself in any way—labels so often come with negativity or expectations that we may or may not want to meet. Labels encourage defeatism—oh, I’m just X, so there’s nothing I can do about it.

So in my story about myself, I am not a middle-aged woman. I am not a mother. I am not a wife. I am not a writer. I am instead, a person with certain skills, likes and dislikes who engages in many different activities which bring me joy. I am a person who is still learning and growing, and my story focuses on my core values and how I live them. 

And every morning I get up and live my story.

What story do you tell yourself about yourself?