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This one’s for you, oh bastion of booze.
A little backstory: I took a digital sabbatical about a week back. This normally meant that I’d shy away from the Internet and social media, focusing on the personal projects that tend to get neglected whenever Twitter keeps shouting my name.
This time, though? I went all in: no laptop, no phone, and as little time as possible spent with my eyes stuck to a screen. I had a pearly picture in my head for everything I’d enjoy instead: sunshine, coffee, and long hours with a notebook, scribbling every illuminating idea that would (naturally) flock to my uncluttered, undistracted mind.
This picture, strangely, did not include getting shoved just shy of incoming traffic.
Know what’s even stranger, though? I’m glad it didn’t. Hell, I’m glad I got shoved.
I left the restaurant that evening with a general sense of just being well. I’d had a great day, a great meal, and a great chat with a friend from home, the combination of which put a spring in my step as I strode down Santa Monica Avenue.
I saw the drunk guy. His neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle, chin bobbing just above his chest, and there was a sway in his step that I figured had very little to do with dancing.
I moved to step around him. Drunk Guy tensed, threw out an arm and shoved me away from him, directly into the busy street. Cars honked as I scrambled to get back on the sidewalk, heart knock-knocking in my chest, and then it was done: I’d made it back to safety and the Drunk Guy had stumbled on, completely oblivious.
The walk home was a quiet one.
Mostly quiet, that is. A few minutes after the shove, my mind racing as quick as every car on the street, I felt a surprising emotion bubbling to the surface: laughter.
I laughed. I chuckled for a solid few minutes, went about my business, and the second half of my sabbatical passed as happily as the first.
A CULTURE OF FEAR
I’ve been scared.
I’ve carried a kind of nervous tension ever since stepping foot in Los Angeles, a small twist in my gut that has only thickened in the two months I’ve spent here. I’ve been worried.
As an easy-going guy, that’s not a common problem. I was lucky, in a sense, to know what I was scared of, and to know exactly why the fear had been clouding every small interaction on the street.
We live in a culture of fear.
That’s dramatic, I think, but not untrue. News stations broadcast stories of murder, theft, and pain on an endless loop, while our favorite TV shows, books and movies depict almost exclusively the darker, grittier side of life. Given the popularity of crime dramas, you’d wonder why anyone would ever want to live in a city — everyone gets brutally murdered.
That’s not accurate, sure. Accurate or not, though, we can’t deny that the feeling sticks with us: this tendency to expect the absolute worst whenever we so much as take a slightly different route home after work.
To be fair, it’s not completely unfounded. Bad things happen. They happen often. But we have an overblown sense of just how often that is, I think, and the sensation is only magnified every time we prop open a newspaper and read about the latest in death and destruction.
With this in mind, then, it’s little surprise that every step I took in this city was laced with a special tension. Every person I’ve passed could hurt me. There are so many people here, so many faces I’ve never seen, and they could be murderers, all of them, sizing me up as their latest victim.
That’s not healthy. It’s not even realistic. I wish I could say it weren’t normal, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s far more common than anyone would care to admit — and not just for a small-town kid thrust head-first into the big city. Maybe I’m in a unique position, here, but maybe I’m not.
I’m leaning on the latter. This realization, then, is what made the drunk shove so surprising, so illuminating, and so entertaining in so many ways. After it happened, I had only one question on my lips: “So that’s it?”
A HEALTHY DOSE OF REALITY
And it was. That was it. Some drunk guy shoved me, I hopped back onto the sidewalk, and life went on without even a blink.
This could be confirmation, in a sense, of my fears. I could have taken that one weird encounter and internalized it, adding it to the twist in my gut, and been on red alert for every person I passed in the following week.
But here’s the thing: it’s not. It’s not confirmation, it’s not proof of anything, and at the end of the day it’s some strange, bizarre emblem of everything this city continues to teach me.
I pass at least a hundred people in the street every day. That puts me well into the thousands of Total People Passed (TPP, which can be used to measure whether someone has a car) for just a few months in LA, which might help drive the next point home even further: one person pushed me.
One. A drunk guy who could barely walk, for that matter, and by no means a good representation of the people I pass on a regular basis: the humans of every shape, size and color, each complete with their own worries, fears, and (probably) weird stories to tell about getting shoved into the street.
That culture of fear would have you paint them in the same light: unknown. Suspicious, maybe, or just worth keeping an eye on, because you never know what might happen next.
That part I agree with: you never know what might happen next. I had no idea I would be shoved that evening, and I have no idea now if I’ll be mugged/robbed/whatever in a few hours when I walk back to my apartment.
I have a choice, though: I can make the walk in fear, expecting the absolute worst, or I can take a moment and remember the thousands of times that I’ve walked without problem before.
One incident should not characterize every walk I’ve made, and likewise one person — the bastion of booze mentioned above — shouldn’t come to represent every other person trying to make a living in a city that never stops.
Don’t get me wrong, of course. I’m not advocating any of us skip through dark alleys at night singing show tunes at the top of our lungs. I’m not recommending, likewise, that we assume everyone has a heart of gold. I am suggesting that we take a critical look at our fears, however, and realize that we have a choice.
We can live in fear. Or we can live with the knowledge that sure, bad things do happen, but not always, and not always to us.
And if they do? If you get shoved in the street or — and hopefully not! — worse? Just deal with it then. Don’t always go in expecting the worst, and don’t let our deep-rooted fears characterize the unknown as something far more dangerous than it actually is.
WRAPPING IT UP
Thank you, drunk guy. I could have done without the shove, but it helped: it woke me up.
I still feel the occasional twinge of fear when I’m walking down a new street. The feeling has mostly faded, though, with the realization that I was carrying such an unhealthy, undeserved suspicion of everyone — and everything — around me.
I’m sure I’ll get a few angry comments from someone who has experienced something genuinely awful, and for that I’d like to go ahead and extend my deepest sympathies. I don’t mean to downplay tragedies, and I don’t mean to suggest, again, that we shouldn’t exercise caution in situations that warrant it.
Still, my point stands: bad things happen. This doesn’t mean, however, that we should expect them to, especially when an average day passes without so much a problem.
Try and live outside the culture of fear. That’s what this Texan kid is doing, at least, in a city that’s bigger than he can imagine — but not nearly as scary as he used to believe.
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23 Comments »
I'm a writer, minimalist, and health dork with three goals in mind: to teach you how to lose weight, move more, and be happier by living a simple, natural life. It works. Like what you read here? Get 3NL delivered straight to your inbox!
I won’t be one of those angry commenters Mike. I’m pretty sure we’ve been twitter pals for a while now, so you probably remember my recent 2 day jam-packed car-fest, where I got in a wreck that totaled my vehicle and then promptly got hit by an SUV while I was on my bike.
Getting back in a car was scary at first, even though it wasn’t my first rodeo, I had been in a wreck before. But that gut feeling you talk about, I had it too. No matter how many bad things happen, no matter in how quick succession they may come – it does absolutely no good to dwell on the mights and what-ifs.
I can’t expect that every time I get on my bike I’ll be hit by a motor vehicle, I’d never go anywhere. Fear is something we can conquer, that’s partly what makes us human. We can overcome that which we fear way before we’re backed into a corner and FORCED to face it.
Exactly, Carwin. Your experiences were a magnitude worse than my own, but I’m glad to see you arrived at the same conclusion: bad things happen, but not always, so we can’t let that stop us from hopping back on the bike.
The gut feeling, I suspect, will fade fully in time. Or so I hope.
Great comment, man!
I think people underestimate how much of their behaviour is driven by emotions. We kid ourselves that we are rational. But more often than not we are rationalising behaviour after the fact.
I’ve found various kinds of meditation have helped me become more aware of how these emotions drive my behaviour, and not watching TV helps as well!
Great point, Neill. And I’m glad you mentioned meditation! I’ve heard so many stories of the awareness and serenity it brings that I’m wondering why I haven’t started implementing it myself. That sounds like a post waiting to happen.
Matt,
Great post! You are so right in saying that “bad things happen. This doesn’t mean, however, that we should expect them to, especially when an average day passes without so much a problem.” We do seem to live in a culture driven by fear, with media propigating all kinds of it (fear; not to mention cable TV) it’s no wonder people are effected by it. Moving to a larger city and experiencing those feelings makes perfect sense; what’s exciting is you “woke up” to what was going on, looked at it objectively and that tends to take fear down a serious set of notches. We’ve also found a proverb to be true that love casts out fear; its as though love throws a light on to dispel the darkness of fear. Love how you are sharing your growth! Thanks for a great post
Thanks for a great comment, Gena! Glad to see that I’m not the only one who has noticed the terror underlying so many parts of (American, at least) culture in modern times. The key, I think, is waking up and reminding yourself to look objectively at the world instead. Not so easy to do, but it’s a battle worth fighting.
It’s funny how your brain operates in fear, isn’t it? I have witnessed a motorcycle rider hit by a car and thrown onto the road, and been the first on the scene to help him. I took care of him as he went into shock.
I was once sideswiped by a car much larger than mine in heavy, rainy traffic and smashed like a bumper car onto the wrong side of the road with cars coming straight at me.
I once seriously considered that I may be about to die in a Texan hospital. (With legitimate reason, I found out afterwards.Lucky for me I didn’t!)
I have also been mugged at knife point and punched by a man much larger than my young, female self.
In all these situations the weird thing was, I was never afraid right in the middle of it. Nervous, excited, adrenaline pumping to the max, all I could think about were the logical ways in which to get out of that situation. My brain was pumping, my heart exploding, and it seemed to me in all cases to be the antithesis of happiness but not bad in that way… just part of the full richness of life. I got scared afterwards when it was over. That makes me wonder how much we really need fear, and I think it is the everyday fears and worries that kill you, living in a constant state of anxiety.
Being alive is awesome. Thanks for reminding me of that Matt
Y’know, Mia, I can’t help but think that you’d be an absolutely fascinating person to share a beer with. Stories just like the ones above kinda blow my mind.
I’m glad to hear you survived them all, in any case, and had a heightened appreciation for life afterwards. The effects are pretty undeniable — just a shame that the causes are so frightening! Haha.
Yeah, true! I sometimes regretted the things I had done to get into these situations (and many others) in the first place. Dont ask me why but I tend to attract trouble and weirdness like a lightning rod! But you cant really think like that, or at least I try not to. Anything that makes you appreciate life with new eyes is always a gift I reckon. It has taken me many years to see it like that.
And of course we will have to make it to the same country at some point in time, so I can take you up on that beer! Great idea.
Looking forward to it.
Nothing like a brush with death to give you a new perspective!
No kidding, right?
You write so thoughtfully, Matt. I really enjoyed this post! And having just relocated to unfamiliar terrain, your story comes at an apt time. I grew up in an extremely cautious family, but found myself breaking away from it almost unconsciously. I flew transcontinental by myself at ten years old, and lived in NYC alone when I was 18. I’ve also had my share of near-brushes-with-death thanks to the evils of driving
There’s a Chinese saying about remaining cautious (read: fearful), “You just fear the 1 time in 10,000 times it happens.” I’ve always felt like this could turn around and apply to a moment of extraordinary happiness as well, which *also* can pass you by unnoticed when living in perpetual wariness!
I’m linking my parents here, by the way
Something very similar happened to me in New Orleans. Not sure how it compares with LA, but I know that it can be quite rowdy during Mardi Gras (never going back there for that again).
I probably shouldn’t admit this but I shoved the guy back…hard…then we fought……..then it was broken up by the cops…………not the best of nights.
Maybe not, Trey, but I’m betting you took something away from it just like I did: it’s better to keep walking.
I’ve recently moved to a new, larger city myself with my husband and six month old. Since my son was born there has been a much larger sense of fear about everything, and that was something I wasn’t prepared for. I am able to tamp it down to livable levels, but it has been growing with each murder or case of measles I hear about on the evening news. This post reminded me to temper fear with reason and not let myself get into that head space so easily. It’s hard sometimes when I look at my little guy and think of all the Bad Things out there. But, I want to teach him to LIVE life, not fear it.
I know exactly what you mean, Jen. It’s easy enough to control your fear and try to adopt a more reasonable approach to life, but it seems like every new report and article gives us thirteen more things to be afraid of. You have the right mentality, in any case: there are bad things out there, but there’s no reason to always assume the worst.
Bad things happen. And when they do? Deal with them then. But teach your son to cherish each day as much as possible and to recognize how overwhelming the good is instead of the bad.
Nonetheless, I’m glad you’re okay!!
Me too.
And you’re exactly right: life goes on. That’s the beautiful thing about it, isn’t it?
Fear not, not even a drunk guy! Can’t wait for the debauchery to ensue once I visit you in LA!
I just found your site, through Mark Sissons’, and will be following it daily! I try to reinforce my growing beliefs since I began my journey down the Paleo road with Loren Cordain’s first book.
To comment on the living-scared aspects of big city life, I am reminded of the incidents that have occurred in some of the small towns that serve as bedroom communities, in large part, to the city in which I live. Things like a drunk who harassed a wheelchair-bound patron of a bar, was kicked out of the bar, then got in his truck and plowed, full throttle, into a group of people outside. Or the small child who died while visiting her father’s home (the couple shared visitation rights), something the police have determined was a homicide.
These things obviously don’t just happen in large centres, but the fact that they tend to be concentrated, like the population, makes cities seem scarier than small towns.
Your attitude, and those of your responding friends, is so refreshing in a world where the governments and the media seem to be determined to make us fearful like rabbits.
Life is full of adventure, and your response to incidents determines whether you emerge as a fearful being or as a person whose life experience has just been enriched. Like a friend of Chinese extraction says, Anything that doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.
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