Beyond the Individual: Why Wellbeing Is Something We Cultivate Together

Reflections on mindfulness, belonging, community and the importance of being seen.

I've not written a blog in a while, relatively speaking anyway, and recently I've found myself revisiting some of the teachers and teachings that have influenced me most over the years.

It's prompted me to reflect on different aspects of my life, from my personal experiences and the philosophies I've been drawn to, to my professional work and, more recently, my academic journey, having started my MRes just a few weeks ago.

And something keeps coming up.

The importance of human connection.

For much of my adult life, I've been fascinated by what makes us who we are. How our experiences shape us, why we respond to situations in certain ways, and how we develop the awareness and understanding to navigate life's challenges.

My interest in social anthropology, the teachings of the Buddha, mindfulness and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) has profoundly influenced how I understand human behaviour and wellbeing.

These approaches have encouraged me to be curious about the experiences, environments and relationships that shape us. They've also helped me notice how our minds construct narratives about who we are, this sense of 'me', and how those stories can influence the way we move through the world, particularly when we hold on to them too tightly.

But recently, revisiting Christina Feldman's writing has reminded me of something important.

To simplify.

To lean into the things that genuinely support my wellbeing, rather than continually reinforcing this idea of 'me' as someone who needs improving, fixing or becoming something else.

And it got me thinking.

What have I actually noticed supports my wellbeing?

So much of the contemporary mindfulness and wellbeing conversation seems to focus on what we can do as individuals. How we can become more mindful, more resilient, more emotionally regulated, more psychologically flexible.

All valuable things, of course.

But I wonder whether, in my own enthusiasm for understanding myself and developing these skills, I've sometimes overlooked something rather obvious.

What if wellbeing isn't simply something we cultivate within ourselves, but something that also emerges through our relationships with others and the environments we inhabit?

It seems obvious really. And yet I think I've been less inclined to focus on that.

Ironically, even mindfulness can become another self-improvement project. Another thing for 'me' to work on, another way of measuring whether I'm doing enough or getting somewhere.

But when I stop trying quite so hard and settle into meaningful relationships, something in me settles too.

I've noticed this in certain spaces at work. In an incredible relational and restorative Community of Enquiry I'm fortunate to be part of. Through my work with We See You. And in those meaningful conversations with colleagues, friends and family where there's genuine curiosity, openness and connection.

There's something about these experiences that feels different.

I notice a sense of connection and belonging, but also something that energises me rather than drains me.

I'm not trying to become anything in those moments. I'm simply present, engaged and connected.

And perhaps that's part of why I was drawn to Buddhist psychology from such a young age.

Because, despite the emphasis we sometimes place on individual meditation and personal practice, the Buddha's teachings have always recognised the importance of relationships and community.

Perhaps this isn't a new understanding at all.

Perhaps it's something I've been drawn to for years, without fully appreciating how deeply it connects everything I do.

The Three Jewels: An ancient understanding of connection

One of the Buddhist teachings I've always resonated with is the Three Jewels: Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.

The Buddha represents the awakened teacher and the possibility of liberation from suffering. The Dharma is the teaching and the path of practice, offering insights into the nature of our experiences and how we might develop greater wisdom and compassion.

And then there is Sangha.

The community.

Traditionally, Sangha has a more specific meaning within Buddhism, referring to the community of practitioners, particularly those who have progressed along the path of awakening. But in contemporary practice, it is also understood more broadly as the community of people who support one another in their learning and development.

And it's this understanding that has become increasingly meaningful to me.

Here is a philosophy that places such importance on individual awareness, contemplation and personal practice, yet recognises that our relationships with others are fundamental to our development.

We don't exist in isolation.

We learn through relationships. We develop through relationships. And often, it's through our interactions with others that we begin to understand ourselves.

The Buddhist teaching of interdependence also speaks to this. Our experiences arise through a complex interaction of causes and conditions. We are influenced by the world around us, just as we influence it.

The more I think about this, the more relevant it feels to contemporary conversations about wellbeing.

From understanding ourselves to understanding our environments

My work with mindfulness and ACT has taught me the importance of developing awareness and psychological flexibility.

Learning to notice our thoughts and emotions without becoming completely entangled in them can be incredibly powerful.

Understanding our values and recognising that we have choices in how we respond to difficult experiences can help us navigate uncertainty, adversity and change.

These are approaches I continue to value enormously.

But I've also come to appreciate that our capacity to develop and use these skills doesn't exist independently of our circumstances.

We can encourage someone to develop resilience, practise mindfulness or become more psychologically flexible.

But what happens when that person feels isolated, misunderstood or disconnected?

What happens when their environment offers few opportunities for meaningful relationships, contribution or belonging?

And conversely, what becomes possible when someone feels safe, accepted, valued and understood?

I don't think these questions diminish the importance of individual responsibility or personal development.

Rather, they invite us to consider the wider conditions that influence wellbeing.

Perhaps supporting people isn't simply about helping them develop the skills to navigate their environments. Perhaps it's also about creating environments that support their capacity to thrive.

Why 'We See You' mattered to me

This brings me to something that has been particularly meaningful in my professional life.

We See You.

When I first became involved in developing We See You, I don't think I fully understood what recognition really meant, or just how much it could matter.

It was only when I experienced being recognised myself, in the context of growing up in an Armed Forces family, that I began to appreciate its significance.

There was something deeply meaningful about having that part of my life acknowledged. Experiences that had shaped me, my relationships and how I understood the world, but which I hadn't necessarily considered in that way before.

And perhaps what struck me most was that I hadn't even realised how much that recognition mattered until I experienced it.

It wasn't about needing someone to fix anything or offer solutions. It was simply about feeling seen and understood within the context of my own experiences.

Looking back, I think that's why We See You became so much more than a piece of work for me. It connected with something deeply personal, and helped me understand why creating that same opportunity for others mattered so much.

But it was never simply about recognising someone's military connection or acknowledging a particular community.

It was about something more fundamental.

The importance of being seen as a whole person, within the context of our experiences, relationships and lives.

Not just seeing someone's behaviour, achievements or difficulties, but being curious about the experiences that might sit beneath them.

Not assuming we understand someone's needs because they belong to a particular group.

And not reducing people to the challenges they may have experienced.

For me, We See You was about recognition, compassion and belonging.

It was about helping institutions become more aware of the people within their communities and recognising that seemingly small changes in how we engage with others can make a meaningful difference.

I now realise it was also about something that sits at the heart of relational practices.

The experience of being acknowledged or seen.

Of feeling that someone is genuinely interested in understanding your world.

Of knowing that your experiences matter.

And perhaps, in some ways, We See You was my attempt to translate those values into something practical.

Through the everyday interactions, relationships and practices of an educational institution.

Belonging is more than simply fitting in, it starts with being seen. 

Universities have enormous potential to bring people together, share knowledge, strengthen communities and create opportunities for participation.

But I wonder whether we sometimes underestimate the importance of the relationships that make these things possible.

Coming back to simplicity

And perhaps this brings me back to where these reflections began, with Christina Feldman's reminder to simplify.

I'm beginning to recognise how easily even the pursuit of wellbeing can become another project. Another thing to work at, understand or get better at.

Yet when I think about the moments when I feel most connected, settled and energised, they're often remarkably ordinary.

A meaningful conversation. Feeling understood. Being part of a community where people genuinely listen to one another. Having something about my own experience recognised that I hadn't even realised needed acknowledging.

None of these moments requires me to become a better version of myself.

And perhaps that's what simplifying means for me right now.

Not abandoning the practices and teachings that have shaped my life, but remembering what they're pointing towards.

Less striving to become something, and more awareness of what is already here.

More attention to the relationships, communities and environments that help us feel connected, valued and understood.

And perhaps a little less focus on 'me' as a continual work in progress.

Because wellbeing isn't always something we need to work harder at achieving.

Sometimes it's something we experience when we stop trying quite so hard and allow ourselves to connect.

Perhaps the simplest thing we can offer one another is also one of the most meaningful: the experience of being seen, heard and understood.