The Emotion of Collective Intention

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.

Courage is better than confidence

I’m currently teaching an in-person class. I’m new to teaching, and I’m doing the best that I can, but sometimes I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself. And that’s okay.

Because confidence isn’t particularly motivating. I can be very confident that I can do something, but still not want to do it at all. I can feel capable and skilled, but that doesn’t meant I get up and do it.

Courage can be what motivates me to actually do the thing.

Getting a PhD has taken a lot of courage. I had to apply, and I had to get letters of recommendation, and pick out a writing sample that I thought would be good enough. And now I submit to conferences and teach classes. I reach out to committee members, and I meet with my advisor regularly. I get harsh feedback sometimes, and I keep going.

But I don’t feel particularly good at any of this. I know I’m good enough to be here and do this thing, but I still have a lot to learn. I keep on growing.

Courage helps me in those days when I know I’m struggling, but that I go out and I try anyway. I have courage when I raise my hand to ask a question sometimes. When I meet a new person and have to engage in small talk. When I want to go home and crawl in bed and not face the things in front of me, but I instead get up and do my best.

If we wait until we are confident, then we don’t give ourselves the time and the space to learn. My best research is not when I figure it out on my own, but when I bring the beginning of an idea and share it with others. When I’m not confident, and I’m ready to learn and change, and I learn so much in that space.

So don’t seek out confidence. It will come when it’s ready, and it doesn’t ever need to be there at all. Instead, seek courage, to get up and try even when you don’t feel like it.

Mental Health Day = Show Up Anyway

I have heard sometimes that people take a mental health day and they miss school/work/etc. in order to take care of their mental health. I am skeptical. I think often the best thing we can do for our mental health is to show up, especially when we don’t feel like it.

Recently, I was feeling very stressed and overwhelmed. But I felt stressed and overwhelmed when I was at home, not getting the schoolwork done. Going to school and working helped reduce my stress. Being around other people in a similar situation actually helped my negativity to dissipate. Talking to others helped more with my mental health than staying home would have.

I know when I am feeling down and depressed, I do want to stay home. I very much want to not show up, and just take some time off. But the great majority of times when I show up, even when I don’t want to, I feel better. I’m glad I went.

Chronic absenteeism is a huge problem in schools right now. Students aren’t showing up. And part of this problem might possibly be that people think they need to feel good to show up. And if they feel bad, they stay home. But just makes them feel worse. And so they stay home more.

Now, there might be some situations when people need breaks. Breaks are good and healthy. However, I have found in my own situation that the structure of showing up regularly does much more good for my mental health than breaks ever do. Breaks are better when they scheduled and intentional, not just randomly missing because you don’t feel like going.

So if you don’t feel like going to school and work, do it anyway. Show up for yourself.

Elephant on my brain

I hate the fact that I deal with mental health struggles. I want to just be fine. I want my brain to work well every day. And sometimes it does. Sometimes we really get along, and my brain can make decisions and respond appropriately and think clearly and regulate my emotions.

But sometimes there is an elephant on my brain. It’s like my brain is squished up and heavy and no longer works quite right. I feel out of control and I find myself doing things that I know aren’t rational. I will yell and scream over things that aren’t a big deal. My brain will circle around in the same, irrational thought patterns as another part of my brain yells to stop thinking like that.

I have a hard time regulating everything. I’ll go deeper down rabbit holes. I’ll lose track of time. I have a hard time focusing. I lose interest in everything. And sometimes, I feel like I’m disconnected with reality, as if I exist a little bit separate from it. Something is wrong and I doubt my own sanity. I know I’m not okay but I just want to be okay.

I want to label it as depression, PMDD, anxiety, ADHD, bipolar–any label will do, really, and then by labeling it I can throw medication at it and make it go away.

I have my tool box of mental health tools that I can use: Go outside. Exercise. Eat food. Drink water. Practice meditation. Do grounding techniques. Write. Get enough sleep. Cognitive restructuring and talking back to negative thoughts. Talk to other people. Routines. And medication does help.

I try. But sometimes, no matter what I do, I’m not okay. And that is okay. Because I will come out of it, especially when I keep using my techniques and tools the best that I can.

The elephant will move away. I’ll wake up and feel all of that weight off of me. Things will go back to normal.

I keep trying the best that I can. And that is enough. I’ll be smiling again soon.

Heather W. Hoyt