When hope stops being useful

Sensitive Seekers! Graham here.

There’s this idea from Buddhism called “sangha”. Literally, it refers to your community of fellow seekers. Those other people diligently traipsing to a weekly meditation class, trying to find inner peace.

But it has a deeper meaning than that. Essentially, your sangha is “your tribe of fellow screw ups”.

(I’m paraphrasing.)

I’ve been thinking about how this idea gives us some clues about how to handle life with big, scary feelings - particularly when you're feeling hopeless. 

There's a certain point in the feelings life-cycle that you may well be familiar with. It's that point when you’re convinced that no one else finds life as hard as you do. When you're convinced you have no hope of ever feeling any better than this.

At times like this, 'hope' just feels like one more empty promise. So what do you do when hope stops being useful? Find your tribe of fellow screw-ups...

‘No one is a bigger screw-up than me’: a one-man play

To begin, let's unpack this Buddhist thing a little more. In Buddhism there are many ways you can “take refuge” from the otherwise inescapable suckiness of life.

First off, you can take refuge in great teachers, like the Buddha himself. This means, you try to find comfort in the fact that somewhere, a long time ago, someone who was essentially just an ordinary messy human like you sat beneath a tree and found inner peace.

But even if you believe in such things, it’s easy to look at that story and say, ‘sure *they* found inner peace, but they didn’t have to deal with the awful voice in my head.’ (Or whatever your particular brand of suffering is.)

The classic, ‘no one is a bigger screw up than me’ inner monologue. (Which I’m confident centuries from now will be performed on the stage, in memory of just how much of a screw up I was. Bravo.)

Taking refuge in your fellow screw-ups

So when you can’t take refuge in the Buddha, what do you do? In Buddhist terms, that’s when you take refuge in the sangha - your tribe of fellow screw-ups.

This means, you take comfort in the fact that all around you are other people who *haven’t* found inner peace yet, but are sincerely doing their best all the same.

Taking refuge in the sangha is less about hope (‘someone else found a way through, so maybe I can’). Instead it’s simpler than that, more primal.

It’s about feeling like you belong to something bigger than yourself, even when you’re at your most hopeless.

Because the thing is, hope isn’t always that useful

Whether you’re searching for enlightenment, or just trying to get through the day, the fundamental problem is the same.

When you’re a sensitive cat, when you find life harder than your friends and family seem to (for no good reason), it’s easy to feel like you don’t really belong on earth.

(Ouch.)

Our society is actually getting better at offering hope to people who are struggling. More and more we hear from famous figures about their own dark, messy bits. Footballers doing heart-felt ads about depression. Instagrammers opening up about a hard year.

But hope isn't always the answer. When we hear these stories it’s usually in the past tense. ‘I was in great pain, and now I’m better’.

These stories are generally presented as something of a ‘how to’ guide.

‘How to get better’. Or, as I sometimes hear it...

‘How to stop having all those feelings (‘cause honestly we’re all just a bit sick of your bullshit Grey).’

Just like with the Buddha example, if you’re really in your shame cave, it’s easy to look at these hopeful, past-tense-pain people and say, ‘yeah, but they weren’t as bad as me.'

So where do you go when ‘hope’ doesn’t help?

I’ve been down this windy little shame-path myself many times, convinced that my particular brand of suffering is the kind that doesn’t ever really go away.

And yet, I’m still here. And often, really quite enjoying my life!

The thing that most consistently helps me is pretty simple. It’s hearing from other sensitive cats. The simple act of communing with other people who *haven’t* got it figured out yet, it does wonders for my sensitive soul. And it gives me the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Because sometimes ‘the answer’ is finding other people asking the same big questions.

Sometimes you're lucky enough to have other sensitive cats already in your life, or to stumble on them at just the right time. Sometimes it's enough just to know other sensitive cats are out there. Posting wistful comments in internet forums. Hitting up advice columns with eerily similar issues to yours. Writing overshare-y newsletters about feelings.

My favourite authors / podcasters / life-ponderers are all people who have learned a thing or two from their big feelings, but who very much present their big stuff as still a work in progress. People like Sarah Wilson, Tara Brach, and Russell Brand. Or closer to home, Big Feels guest-posters Gareth Edwards and Sarah Firth.

That’s why we started this club. To try to create more ways for y’all to hear from others who are right in the thick of their big, scary stuff. People who are halfway down the existential plug-hole, and doing their best even when hope is completely hypothetical. Even when they don’t really know what will happen next.

Sangha.

Or in Honor’s words, knowing that it’s not just you who feels “like a masticated maraschino cherry”. (Mmm).

Holding the space together

This is why it’s been so damn encouraging to see the response to our latest experiment: the card-carrying Big Feels Club membership.

Because holy feelings you guys, look how many of y’all signed up already!

If you’re like ‘wait what?’, read the whole story over here. But in short, we launched the spiffy new card-carrying membership for two reasons:

1) This strange and tender club we’ve been working on for a year and half has really taken off(!). It's been great, but a lot of work. And we needed to find a way to make it more sustainable.

2) People told us they wanted more ways to contribute, to help hold the space not just for themselves for everyone else who needs it.

What happens when a bunch of sensitive cats decide to help each other?

And this is the other piece I think is often missing in those hopeful, past-tense-pain stories you see about mental health. The message is usually about how you just need to ask for help.

Fair enough, but what about the ways we can *offer* help, to each other? That sacred, ancient ritual of Muddling Through Together? Whether it's lending an ear to a friend, or signing up to a weird online club for feelings, we can help each other even when we don't have 'the answer' ourselves.

So thank you to everyone who’s signed up to this latest experiment of ours. You’re not just carrying a Big Feels Club membership card, you’re helping to carry this whole club, for anyone out there who needs it.

(Naw.)

And for everyone else, fear not! You’ll still get your Big Feels fix every two weeks, come rain, hail, or big feelings.

And we’re excited about what we can do next year, thanks to your support!

Where could this club of ours go next year, if we take it there together?

What can a community of people convinced they’re the the *absolute worst* achieve, if we put our collective minds to it??

I’m pretty keen to find out.

And a wee note for card-carrying members, get a special update on the status of your membership cards (including a sneak peek at the final design! Plus insider tips on how to beat me if we ever play rock / paper / scissors) over here on the Patreon posts page :)))