For the brief period when I lived in Chiang Mai, I walked everywhere. Sure, I took the occasional tuk-tuk or red truck, but by and large, I walked as much as possible. I walked all across town, all over, every day.
Shoe of choice: Nike Free. I love them.
The pedestrian experience of a city is unbeatable. A pedestrian-friendly city has heart. Walking the streets, you feel that heart, and you move along with it, taking it all in. You flow from place to place at your own pace, with no extraneous gear, no car that needs to be parked, and no liabilities besides your own person.
It was in Chiang Mai at night that I discovered the value of reversing the polarity.
If you have ever been approached by a stranger in a city, a beggar or panhandler, a religious zealot, someone selling something, someone wanting you to sign a petition, or any person you want to have no business with, what do you do?
"Not right now." "No." "Sorry, I can't."
Here’s an alternative.
To perform this alternative, you need to have something in your hand to give away.
My favorite dinner spot was on the other side of town from where I was staying. It was a hot pot and fried chicken place that opened on the street outside a tire repair shop. Because the nearest sign said "Michelin," I lovingly referred to it as "the Michelin place."
From what I could tell, the city had no kind of zoning that I was used to, and I certainly had no idea who anyone was. You learn to trust your gut. Sometimes, you make mistakes, and you eat questionable meat. It's better to have the experience than not.
My Michelin restaurant opened late, presumably because the mechanic had to finish for the day and lock up, and then the hot pot and fried chicken dudes had to show up and get things going.
So, walking back home after dinner and a beer, it was stone dark. People at night approach you—they want to ask you for something or give you a flier for a muy Thai place or a nightclub.
Here's what I did: I found someone handing out fliers, and I asked if I could have some to give away. Then, I continued on my way.
As weird people approached me, and my spidey sense said they had a proposition for me, I just made sure I was the first one to make the offer.
"Check out this show." I’d say, and hand them a flier. Most of the time, they’d take it. Or they’d wave their hand and say, “No thanks.” “Not right now.” “Sorry, I can’t.”
I’ve found this maneuver applies to life more broadly than just as something to do when walking home at night and having to fend off people making propositions.
It's a way of staying in your own flow, directing the flow outwards so that unwanted stuff doesn't impress on you.
Instead of fliers, the thing to hold could be talking points, a goal, or a creative project you have on the back burner.
That way, rather than moving through the day with only the surface-level stuff going on, you can carry in a light way something else, something that matters far more to you.
When I do that with a creative project, it lets me fully engage with whatever I’m doing and be receptive to a broader project or aspiration. Admittedly, if I don’t do this, that part of me is basically vacant, my attention wholly swallowed by whatever I’m doing. I consider such time and energy lost in an in-between state, the domain of “getting stuff done,” not exactly the realm of fulfillment.
For example, I have a strongly motivating long-term goal. It’s nothing that I’m necessarily taking direct action on at any given moment, but it’s something I’m figuring out as I work toward it. It’s not something I can really sit down and puzzle out. It needs to arrive organically as I experience life and come into new situations. As I do life, I hold my motivation up to my current experience to see how it fits. It’s like the game of “hotter” or “colder,” except that it’s all internal, and you do it for months at a time.
How does this experience feel in the context of this goal I have? What is this experience bringing me relevant to my aspiration?
Like most things, this practice is best done with as little inner dialogue as possible. It’s a subtle sensing and feeling exercise.
I think this is a relatable experience for many writers and artists, who tend to have notions for projects that are at first pretty vague. Maybe they eventually arrive in a flash or maybe they slowly germinate.
This practice allows things to germinate in a pre-conscious nascent state—just holding the feeling, the subtle sense. It has a dual purpose: It gets me closer to my goal and situates me so that life doesn’t just happen.
A part of me is looking for something, and I know how it feels. My current situation may or may not match that. The way forward is a game of hotter and colder to discover what fits in that picture.
Reversing the polarity in this sense means that instead of the belief that we need to stop and puzzle things out before proceeding, life is meant to be discovered, and the way is meant to be one of ongoing discernment and rediscovery.
Love this—TY