The Center of "Nothing". Weekdays in the Tropics
And what have you done for hip-hop in your years?
I am finishing this article on a bus heading to the border town of Lao Bao. This means that today marks exactly half a year of my stay in Vietnam.
The past few months have been far too relaxed. Is the reason my move to the center of the bar streets in the most touristy spot within a radius of hundreds of kilometers, or a loss of focus on once-established goals? TL;DR: Mom, I'm doing well.
Original version (ru): https://khitov.com/sredotochie-nichto-budni-v-tropikakh
Life in a World Where Everything Exists, but Nothing Happens
An abundance of tropical fruits, cuisines from all over the world, misty dawns, and vibrant sunsets. Eternal warmth, yoga under palm trees by a 30-kilometer beach. Peruvian specialty coffee accompanied by nouvelle chanson for breakfast. Burrata and mortadella overlooking the fire-breathing dragon and bustling drivers in sun-protective suits. An orange sunset under a light breeze during an evening ride along an endless promenade. Guitar songs for a company of monkeys at night by a rocky cliff. Kilometers of mountain switchbacks, stony rivers, and waterfalls. Perhaps drum 'n' bass in an underground club or invigorating qigong at sunrise. And for some—dengue fever and the monotonous sounds of an excavator at six in the morning.
We are different. Many of us are tourists taking a temporary break from the European 9-to-5, traveling to the other side of the globe to build their startups after coastal yoga. Less frequently, they come to savor the local culture, throwing a backpack over their shoulders and combing through the entirety of Vietnam from north to south. My camp—the camp of unemployed adepts of Southeast Asia—is still few in number.
When every day is turned into a search for soulful entertainment and random encounters, an inflation of impressions inevitably sets in. This is a tale of how meaning is born in motion and dies in inaction. "What next?"—this is the question I have been asking myself for the past two months, no matter what palm tree I lie under: coconut, date, or sugar palm.
This life is on the lowest difficulty setting. There is a force that gives life momentum, an incentive to achieve set goals. And then there is life here, which, like a black hole, prevents this force from releasing a person from the singularity of total inaction. Adaptation, understanding, getting used to things—and suddenly, any action begins to lead to teleological questions: "But what is the point?", "What next?", and "For what?"
The world is mired in wars and crises. Modern problems, unemployment, migrants. Here, however, from the perspective of an ordinary European consumer, absolutely nothing happens. Every subsequent day within a radius of hundreds of kilometers is just like the last. Middle-class workers hustle in the routine of survival. Today, just as it was two hundred years ago. It is hard for them. It has always been hard. A cafe, a massage parlor, a bakery, a tire repair shop. Everyone's life is the same and often predetermined. White aliens warm their bellies on the beach. They do not care about the 12% increase in fuel costs or rising inflation. And neither do I.
Thus, it turns out that when a person's basic need for safety and a roof over their head is met, they are not ready for the next stage. The survival race is over, and a period of self-actualization begins. The career and social marathon in which everyone around is involved is not a solution, but the path of least resistance.
A year in emigration, nine months in the tropics. A dream for some, routine for me. After moving away from the city where you lived for 27 years, you realize how isolated every city on the planet truly is. Even in the era of $30 flights, our lives remain completely confined within one or two locations. At a normal scale, it seems like a lot is happening around us. We launch new projects at work, make new acquaintances, travel to new places. But when you zoom out, it turns out that on a global scale, you and all your activities are an invisible speck. It turns out that in the absence of uncontrollable man-made or natural disasters, absolutely no spikes occur in the lives of the vast majority of people.
Loss of Focus and the Homogeneity of Space-Time
The same thing happened to me. Too accustomed, too saturated, too relaxed. This process of getting used to things and grounding arrives very insidiously and deliberately. I measure it by the number of goosebumps. Once, from the awareness of what is happening around you, from the power of your own intentions, you are constantly charged, constantly in a flow of creation. And then you gradually begin to feel the futility of certain actions and the destructive comfort of others.
And here I am, still with this idea of iron discipline and contracts. The problem is that for an ordinary life, as smooth as still water, no discipline is needed at all. Humanity has created a mechanism where minimal effort is enough for anyone to carry on their lineage. And besides reproduction, nature doesn't really have any other goal.
And so I hit this barrier. When nothing threatens life, the incentive to push forward disappears. Why all these "overcomings" if everything is fine as it is? In other parts of the globe and for other people, things might not be fine. But what is that to me? Power-saving mode.
Any activity I engage in quickly becomes mundane and ceases to spark interest. After all, one craves competition. To elevate the effort, the process, and the results to an absolute. I want to come up with something unique. Not for the sake of uniqueness, but for the sake of solace—so that the organism, having grown so accustomed to the surrounding worldly blessings, could finally feel a new surge of emotion.
A Wrong Turn in the May Marathon
A highly successful streak of April experiments was interrupted by a complete rout in May. Anticipating a wave of rollback from the previous April success and enthusiasm, I deliberately refrained from setting almost any rigid goals or restrictions for May; yet, despite this, I failed to keep my word. Yes, I lost $200 for the second time, but I am not worried about it at all. This is not hitting rock bottom, as I previously thought. It is a splash in a puddle, and standing up and dusting myself off is a matter of a few days. I continue to run experiments and search for new meanings.
I try to engage in socially beneficial activity. I am composing guides on living in the glorious city of Da Nang. A drop of order. Many grandiose ideas. I am grateful to everyone who is indirectly involved in this project.
I am still trying to understand which of my discipline and development techniques actually work. Morning promises, daily reflection, and accountability—definitely yes. But as soon as any of this is forgotten or paused, the system breaks down. If actions are the applied level, and manifestos, experiments, and reflections are the meta-level, then another one is needed—a meta-meta level. Its purpose is to control the level below. To remind oneself of the importance and integrity of all components of the system.
The problem with all the frameworks and mental models I come up with is that they must be remembered. Remembering that I am learning to say "no." That I wanted to make promises to myself every morning. Remembering that I promised to write something daily. But here's the trouble—I forget. It's too easy to forget. It is too difficult to keep a dozen mindsets in your head and not forget a single one. Even when they have turned into a routine. When you do the same thing without thinking, day in and day out. Break the chain for a while, and the neural connections begin to rewire. Interrupt it? Fall ill, go on a trip, find a new hobby, move. Anything capable of making you forget about global goals.
A funny contrast of sensations between two opposite ways of spending time—unconscious and intentional consumption. When did those very goosebumps and the feeling of fulfillment and omnipotence occur? When the brain was working in creation mode. The last few months here have been survival in near-40-degree heat, digesting junk food and information trash. Because it's comfortable, because it seems "easier," but in fact, it's a drain of energy in the direction opposite to creation.
What Next
Over the past year, I have forgotten what commitments are. Over the past six months, I have forgotten what stress is. Probably, if someone decided to spontaneously measure my cortisol levels, they wouldn't find a trace of it. I am in no hurry. I come up with my own quirks and turn them into reality. Often I don't, because I procrastinate. So what!
I will run more experiments. I will bring more energy to the people around me. I will keep adding to the endless list of ways to change something. If only I don't kill myself ahead of time with all our motorcycle trips and hiking. The elders were right about how important it is to take care of your physical health, yet I don't.
For now, I am living here. I have already become too "Vietnamized" and adapted to abruptly change my place of residence. As before, I tell everyone that I'm here until my first million. And with a healthy financial flow, there will be nothing left to look for here. Unless we open a Ukrainian quarter here with a Roshen store, a Nova Poshta branch, and a Le Silpo.
Wishing everyone delicious banh mi buns and a pleasant sea breeze.