Zen and the Art of Street Crossing

When I was a kid, I got it into my head one day that I should cross the street without looking. More important to this story, I thought crossing the street without looking was a skill -- like swimming -- that could be acquired and refined. I imagined amazing people with my street crossing prowess -- throngs of gaping people watching in awe as I crossed the street heedless of traffic and arrived safely on the other side.

With images of cheering crowds firmly planted in my mind, I set out to practice. My practice, of course, was short lived: a mere three crossings before I was nearly run down by a very angry woman in a very big car. I was able to scamper off into my grandparents' back yard to avoid further embarrassment.

This is one of my favourite stories because it's so outlandish. Who would think crossing the street without looking was a learnable skill? That it should be practiced? I qualified for Mensa, fer crissake.

Had I lived to 80, I never would have believed that this would have some kind of practical import:

In my hotel room there was a little guidebook. The first point in the "Things not to do in Vietnam" list reads: When crossing the street, do not change your speed of pace, do not run, do not step backwards.

I took this advice to heart, and I must tell you, I have never had a more Zen-like experience than crossing the street in Vietnam. Motorbikes and cars zipping past you in all directions and on all sides, but all flowing around you and around each other with a remarkable peacefulness. In North America I would have been scared shitless. Here, I was not worried for a moment. I can only describe it as "moving meditation".

Thanks, Ryan. You just made my childhood that much less ridiculous.