The Long Game of Community
// The Long Game
This week, in the summer hiatus that Mark Masters normally takes for creative recovery, he shared (within the YATM club space) a post around a book called Tribe by Sebastian Junger - a book exploring how true happiness and meaning emerge from interdependence and community, rather than independence and isolation. He highlights how modern society - with all its convenience and wealth - can leave people feeling disconnected and anxious.
Mark drew a comparison around how YATM Online, the Zoom show he (we) created during COVID (April 2020 – May 2021), embodied this very spirit of togetherness and through segments, guests from around the world, and shared moments like singing together, the show we made created a real sense of belonging when the world felt uncertain. I felt it, everyone felt it and it feels weird knowing that this little segment of our week created a safe space but it did.
These experiences, these shared experiences did something to everyone involved, they brought us together and they made us feel something beyond a networking group. We all held each other up, we all listened and celebrated the little wins (I remember sharing how I was starting a podcast) and it was amazing to be a part of it.
I made a comment on this post that it's a shame that others weren't a part of it because then they might get it. They might get the things people have come together to build - but they never will and from the outside, it might seem like just another networking group, but it's not.
That sentiment makes me sad - knowing that a group of people have been through something, something which brought them together in a way that no-one else will get to experience.
// The Spark of Community
When a community is young or you join a community which is different, it hums - there is a vibration or a frequency that it operates on. The energy is just different and you feel it in your bones - the excitement, the shared purpose, the late-night Whatsapps and the ideas of making something with people, not just for an audience, but for each other is energising.
That was my first experience with You Are The Media - from the moment I got a personalised video reply (from Mark) to my newsletter subscription I wasn't just a cog in the wheel - and whilst I wasn’t leading anything, I was just showing up, participating and more importantly, being welcomed in. I never at any point felt like I was making up the numbers and I was purposefully pushed up to the front to do a little dance in front of everyone (thats a metaphor, not literally) and it didn’t take long to feel like I belonged.
No, not because I had to perform a little metaphorical dance but because there was room for me to show up as I was.. I've spoken about this in my review video of the You Are the Media community on my Youtube channel.
That’s rare in any community and it's almost unheard of in a business one - everyone is trying to be someone in business and it means you have to have a pretence around who you need to be and what you need to say.
This didn't happen when I first rocked up to join YATM and it leaves a mark.
A good one.
// The Shift
These days, I’m part of the You Are The Media team - I help with the setups, Mark and I have conversations around creative ideas and how to bring people in - don't get me wrong, Mark is entirely the driving force and his personality, personable way with people and general outlook on life are the lifeblood of everything that goes on but I still feel a part of how it's all put together.
During COVID, when everyone was just about holding it together, I helped step up and lead in my own little way by hosting an online session called 'YATM Learning' - again, not my idea but Jackie Goddard's but I took the opportunity with both hands, I was trusted to lead it and I hoped (with every nervous shaking moment I did it) that it landed in the right way.
Nowadays, I'm rarely front and centre.
I do a little video for Creator Day each year and I don't really have a chance at holding the mic and I love this new evolution for me because I am a part of the backbone - supporting, shaping, helping others find their way and I wouldn't have it any other way. I now get to be the person who shows up at events, I am known (thankfully) and I get to connect people, I get to shake hands with familiar faces and I get to hold the hands of the newbies and usher them into new spaces.
And honestly,
It’s one of the most fulfilling shifts I’ve ever made.
There’s something beautiful about stepping back - not in retreat, but in service. I love creating space for new voices and letting others take the limelight and allowing them to shine their way is something that I enjoy doing - I've learned this from Mark.
He talks a lot about servant leadership, the power of being there for others and allowing them to share their voice in their way - he's a master at it and I learn something new every time there is a new event or a new meetup.
It’s not about ego anymore. It’s about ecosystem.
What makes me smile isn’t seeing myself on the screen (although I do take the opportunity to step up every single time it's given) - it’s watching someone else take the stage for the first time and feel what I felt years ago - that sense of possibility, that feeling of being seen.
That moment when the community doesn’t just observe your journey, but walks alongside it, and knowing I played a part in making that happen?
That’s the good stuff.
// The Middle Years
Communities live or die in the middle years I think - when the energy runs out and the mission starts to be tested - I call it the 'maintenance' phase.
Not during the launch - not when the spotlight’s blazing - but in the slow, messy, faithful middle when you have to stick with it and I think I'm grateful that the messy middle came at a time when everyone felt a little sense of unease. We all felt uneasy together and we all found our way.
We all experienced the messy community feeling the most when things weren't quite new anymore, when things were constantly evolving and when the questions were constantly changing - it felt like that when we entered COVID and we all were clinging to some sense of normality that the goal wasn’t momentum anymore - it was compassion.
Care. Attention. Listening.
But, that’s where the heart of the community began to beat the loudest and that is when everything meant the most, to me anyway - when Mark shared his little story this week of how he'd read the book Tribe and linked it to a video we'd made to thank Mark for his efforts during COVID, that video showed the people who quietly kept showing up, the ones who'd notice when someone went quiet and most importantly, those who shared the work, the spotlight and the joy.
// The Seasons of Community
Every community has seasons I think.
At first, there’s the rush - the growth phase - when everything feels like it’s building. You can practically hear the scaffolding going up because there are new faces. New formats and experiments with new rituals. It’s exciting, sometimes chaotic. But mostly, it’s electric.
I think this phase happens when either the community is fresh and just starting or when you've just joined it - it's not a one-size fits all approach - it can be the evolution of the community itself or a personal lived experience and this is how I felt when I joined YATM.
Then there’s the maintenance stage, or what you'd call the care phase - which, if I’m honest, can feel less sexy but it's the most important - It’s the day-to-day work of showing up, checking in and making sure the lights are on for everybody.
It’s where the buzz quiets... but the bonds deepen. You’re not chasing connection anymore - you’re building trust. Again, this is what happened during COVID for me - we all knew who we were, we just began to trust one another. It could have been a literal phase of the community itself or again, a personal lived experience - for me... it was both.
And if you’re lucky - if enough people keep showing up with care - it enters that third phase: sustaining.
The community becomes part of the furniture in your life - something you don’t need to constantly promote or reinvent because it just is.
A hum in the background - a place you know how to return to, even if you’ve stepped away from the front.
Your role should shift as the season shifts.
You don’t need to play the same part forever.
You don’t have to lead just because you once did.
You don’t have to speak up just to prove you’re still here.
Sometimes you step forward because the moment calls for it.
Sometimes you step back to make space for someone else’s beginning.
And sometimes… you just sit quietly, clap loudly, and hold someone's hand.
All of it matters.
// The Invitation
So maybe the real long game of community isn’t about always being active - maybe it’s about being in tune with whats happening and what's going on around you - it's not a forever game of chasing followers or calling out for more support, maybe it's more organic than that.
If you're a part of a community, or you're building one - maybe you need to tune in to the moment, to the mood or more importantly, to what’s needed now.
I used to think being a “valuable” member of a group meant showing up and being loud - loud with ideas, being the one running something and offering answers.
But lately as I've come to enjoy the new role I've found, I’ve realised it might mean just being the person who notices when someone’s a little quieter than usual or holding someones hand as they step to the front for the first time (I literally did this when I helped someone in London who was on a panel for the first time - being there can take many forms)
That’s the role I want to keep playing. Not the lead. Not the loudest - just someone who makes the community feel a little more held together.
So if you’re reading this and wondering where you belong in a group that matters to you…
Ask yourself:
What does this community need right now?
What do I need right now?
And how can those two things meet?
Because your role can change, your place can evolve and there’s no expiry date on belonging.
// Playing the Long Game
Maybe this is what the long game of community really looks like.
A willingness to keep showing up in the ways that matter - even when the stage or your role changes.
To step in when someone needs backup, to step out when someone else is ready to rise, to stay rooted, even as the roles shift around you.
Because true community isn’t about being seen all the time - it's not about being the one who shouts the loudest and 'leads' the charge - it’s about seeing each other, across the years, across the roles, across the seasons of that community.
And I’m in this for the long game.
I hope you are too.
