Tag: love

The Emotion of Collective Intention

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Collective intentions make me cry sometimes, and I’m not sure why.

We often think about intentionality as individuals, but we can also form and execute intentions as groups as well. So individually, I intended to write this blog post. Most of the goals and the things that I do are my own individual intentions and choices.

But then sometimes . . .

I do things that are beyond just me. There are things that we have to do together. For example:

  • Sports. Not only playing the game but also cheering for a team. Or even things like running a race together.
  • Games. Board games, card games, other games that we do together.
  • Music and singing. I often accompany the organ and piano to people who are singing and creating music together. There are also concerts where everyone is singing along and creating something.
  • Family. We need to coordinate a lot, support each other, work towards common goals and values.
  • Conferences and classes. Listening together, asking questions, having those conversations.
  • Volunteer work. Helping out others as a collective group.
  • Some religious practice.
  • Political protest.

As a philosopher, I’ve studied collective intention a bit, but usually philosophers talk about the mind and agents and reasons and phenomenology and things like that. It gets sort of technical.

But my experience with collective intentionality is often incredibly emotional and perhaps aesthetic. I find it beautiful and moving. I end up crying sometimes, and I’m drawn to both participate in that collective intention, and to watch others do it.

I don’t think I’m alone. A lot of our entertainment is focused on watching collective intentions. Sports games. Parades. Music performances. Flash mobs. Not only is most entertainment a result of group intentions, but that collective intentionality is the thing that entertains us.

Collective intentions seem intertwined with art and beauty in some way. There is something incredibly moving about witnessing a group musical performance, and I feel more emotional watching group performances than watching an individual perform.

I’m not sure it is exactly aesthetic, or some other emotional experience.

Is it something more about function? Is it because we are social creatures? Are we somehow acting in some higher and more perfected way when we work together? Or maybe it’s about morality and sentiment? Feeling that this is the right thing?

I don’t know right now. But I do know that I seek out groups and group intentionality quite a lot. It’s a huge and important part of my life, and I am a happier person when I am not just doing my own thing, but I am intentionally working with others.

And the most moving, the most emotional experiences I’ve had in my life are almost all about groups of people, acting together. They seem really, really important, even if I don’t understand why.

Light in the darkness

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I think I figured out what I want to write my dissertation on: it’s somewhat focused on self-interest, but also on altruism. I’m really curious about if we need to be self-interested or not. Do we need to take care of ourselves? Is it necessary that we worry about our own well-being? What about the people that sacrifice so much for the service of others?

Christmas time has always been a time of service for me. Sometimes I feel weird about it–I’m buying presents for my kids and spending so much money on my own family–but I also want to help other people too. I hear of some people who give all their Christmas money to others, while I find myself giving my children more presents than they really need (or even perhaps want). I wonder if I could be doing more good.

We visit Giving Machines. We contribute to charities. We take tags off the Giving Tree in the elementary school lobby and I have my kids pick out presents for others. I look at service projects in my community and try to sign up–play the piano at a hospital, clean up after an event, volunteer at the food pantry, make blankets.

And then my kids get sick and I have to cancel half of the things I volunteered for so I can stay home and take care of them. I feel conflicted about what is self-interested and what is serving others: did I volunteer just so I felt good about myself? Or because I felt it as a duty, but I didn’t really want to do it? Or did I genuinely care about someone besides myself?

I worry sometimes about the impacts I have on others. I have the biggest impact on my own children. I want them to learn to look outward. I make cookies and bring them to neighbors. I send out Christmas cards, but I am afraid I have forgotten people. I go and visit elderly friends and tell them I will return to visit another time because the visit is never long enough.

I tell my daughter that happiness comes in the service of others. But I don’t think I serve other people in order for me to feel happy. Instead, I serve them because I want them to be happy. And my own happiness comes as a by-product. It may be impossible to make someone else happy without making yourself happy as well.

How much do I need to give? How much do I want to give?

I look at the holiday displays people make and I wonder for a moment if all that money could have been given to charity instead. Yet, if everyone did that, we would not have the light filling up the dark space of December. And I love Christmas lights.

Perhaps there is simply enough to do all of it–to give presents to my children, to donate to charity, to help other people, to enjoy the twinkling colorful lights. Perhaps our time and money are not as scarce as we sometimes believe, and there is more than enough.

But that isn’t quite right, because sacrifice is necessary. Sacrifice is praiseworthy and good and beautiful.

I remember all the stories in my life about sacrifice: My grandma sewing clothes for my mom and surprising her during a meager year. My mom searching to give me a Furby, despite the fact that they are sold out everywhere. My husband buys a friend his only Christmas presents of the year, and even though it is a simple fruit cake, they share it gladly.

When there is scarcity, people give in service to others, even though it requires sacrifice. They prioritize others about themselves. And that is right. That is light.

I hear people on Instagram telling me that I should prioritize myself at Christmastime. That I can ask for presents and spend time for myself. But I don’t want to. I want to connect with others so much more than I ever want to receive for myself.

That connection means that I do receive: I am invited, included. Others wrap presents for me and put them under the tree because they love me. And I receive that with gratitude.

No moment of my life is about myself. It is always about someone else, above giving and serving and helping and maybe, maybe making someone else’s life just a little bit better. Whenever I have pursued my own self-interest just because of my own selfish desires (and it happens more frequently than I want to admit), it has drained my life of purpose and led to unhappiness.

The light that shines in the darkness is that we love each other, and that we are loved. We celebrate Jesus Christ who loved us so much that he gave everything to us. In ever gift I give and receive, I remember the greatest gift, a light to the world.

Recent life hacks

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Rituals are really helpful in order to express love. We love our children and our spouse and our family, but often we just think expressions of love will happen naturally and spontaneously. They don’t. We have to plan it a bit.

Love means that we always kiss each other good night. Or that we tuck kids into bed and sing them a song. Or we call our moms every Wednesday. Or that we make take time to wrestle every day at 4:00. Or we cuddle every evening. Or we end conversations with, “I love you.”

Everyone wants something dependable and safe, and creating rituals of love can be so helpful in feeling more loved and showing that love more often.

***

Two days ago, I watched a video on YouTube by Jordan Page about a block schedule productivity system. I’m always looking for better ways to manage my life, and this one wasn’t entirely unique, but yet it was just what I needed at the time.

She basically separates her days into a few large blocks, with a timer on the phone to tell her when it’s the next block. I really liked it because instead of using lots of small blocks of time, it was a few big blocks of time, generally categorized but flexible and not too specific. And it was pretty much what I was already doing, but just a slight improvement on it.

For me, I came up with the following blocks:

  • Morning (6-9). Wake-up, scriptures, prayers, mental health, exercise, family scripture study, breakfast, showers, kids ready, cleaning, home projects.
  • Learning (9-12). Homeschool and playing with kids.
  • Lunch (12-1). Lunch and clean up.
  • Projects (1-3). The kids watch movies or play. I work on school, blogging, and other projects.
  • Family/errands (3-5). Time to play outside, go and do things, etc.
  • Dinner (5-7). Dinner, clean up, and whatever.
  • Bed time (7-8). Tubs, stories, bed.
  • Evening (8-10). I catch up on projects and spend time with my husband.
  • Sleep (10-6).

It’s pretty easy. What was super helpful to me was I organizing my to-do list by block. It sort of just made things fall into place more. Instead of thinking what I needed to get done, I was planning on when I was doing it and then not worrying quite as much.

 

Pain can be good

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In the city finals course during an episode of American Ninja Warriors last year, Jessie Graff was trying to finish the course but was exhausted and didn’t have the strength to finish. She fell, knowing she had reached her limit. But throughout it all, she was smiling. When asked about it during the interview after the run, she said that she was smiling because she knew she was getting stronger.

I have remembered that for a while. I tend to avoid pain–a lot of us do. But lots of good things in life cause us pain, whether it’s the physical pain of exercise, the anxiety of talking to new people, or the frustration of trying a new skill. Often, the things we value cause us a a lot of pain too: I value my children and love them a lot, so when they are crying or struggling, it makes me hurt too because I want them to be happy.

There are two lessons in all of this:

  1. Often, we have pain because we are doing something difficult. And since we aren’t as strong as we want to be, it hurts. But if we persist and hang in there, we will become stronger. Pain can be good because it means we are stretching ourselves to do better. Instead of getting frustrated and just always doing what we are already good at, it’s better to push ourselves–it will hurt, but it’s worth it.
  2. The things that we value can cause us a lot of pain because we value them so much. This pain can cause us to do a lot of stupid stuff when we try to avoid it–like getting angry at our children when they are crying. We really want them to be happy–that’s why their crying is bothering us in the first place. But when we misinterpret our pain and forget what we actually value, we end up hurting the things that we love the most. A better way is knowing that the pain is okay and that avoiding the pain isn’t the answer–remembering what we love and value is.

Avoiding pain can be incredibly damaging. Now, sometimes we have pain that tells us we need to change our actions–like when we are injured, or we feel guilt. But it’s not like good choices lead to comfort and bad choices lead to pain. Sometimes, really good choices result in a lot of pain. But they are still good choices. The easy choice can often be a very negative thing.

We should remember what we value and push ourselves to become better and better at living those values. While that can be painful, it can also bring us a great amount of joy.

The joy of a simple life

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I am currently reading a self-help book that drives down the same, worn-out path of trying to convince the reader that they can accomplish a lot because the author has accomplished a lot. If the reader follows the path of the author by doing specific things, then the reader will also be successful. And usually success is defined in a specific way, such as wealth, career accomplishment, and general productivity and happiness.

This is a false narrative.

We all live different lives. Some of us won’t ever be successful in certain ways–we have struggles, and sometimes those struggles never go away. You may not make much money. You may struggle to spend your time wisely. You might struggle with mental health, making daily happiness seem impossible. You might fail in career goals. Your family might fall apart in a way that can’t be put back together again.

It’s a lie that we can all achieve a certain kind of success.

But that’s okay. Because you don’t need that sort of success in your life anyway.

We are given are specific circumstances. We do the best we can, and we make mistakes. But we keep trying. And while we do want to be the best we can be, that may mean that we live a simple, unnoticed live, filled with problems.

My Grandma Jane lived a simple life. She was an incredibly talented woman in many different ways: computers, crocheting, sewing, bookkeeping, genealogy, and more. But she dealt with a huge amount of challenges in her life–health problems, infertility, financial struggles, family difficulties, and trying to overcome her own weaknesses.

I love my Grandma Jane very much and she means a lot to me. She helped others in small and simple ways, and that was enough.

Sometimes we get so caught up in being successful in the certain ways we want that we forget that the small and simple things we do are so much more important.

I don’t want to live in a big house and have lots of money. I don’t want to get the best grades or a high-profile job. I don’t need to start a successful business or publish books or whatever.

Because my life doesn’t have to be successful in those ways at all. I want to love and serve in small and simple ways. I want to keep trying even if life become difficult. I don’t need to be noticed, because I am already loved.