Contrasts and sabai
Reflections while staying in Chiang Mai, Thailand for a month in Feb-Mar, 2024.
As the days pass, it’s gotten easier. Maybe it’s because I’m no longer trying to figure something out. Or maybe I’ve figured something out. Maybe it’s that curiosity has led me to sense so much more.
The contrasts are fascinating now, and how I’m responding equally so.
When I open my balcony door in the morning, I catch the smell of far-away burning and lingering smog. Then there’s the scent of alluring flowers, coffee’s aroma, and lemongrass lotions.
Walking outside, I feel the scorching sun touch my arms, sweat moistening my shirt, and grit gathering in my sandals. Cooling air conditioners relieve me, and on another day, the touch of an achingly deep Thai massage relaxes me.
There’s the sound of buzzing scooters passing by, wild staccato bird calls, and the lovely cadence of the Thai language. There is also a kind of urban quiet, a soundscape that doesn’t assault, and I really like this.
I have yet to taste authentic Thai food because, I’ve been told, it’s a little sweet. So I taste the familiar here: poke bowl, avocado toast, fresh spring rolls, and sashimi. And the best espresso everywhere.
Curiosity has continued to open me to seeing more: the mangled expression of electrical wires, colorful lighted lanterns in entrances, and joyous art on cinderblock walls. Boutique hotels, souvenir trinkets, huge billboards, and run-down plots. Dodgy street food, laundry hanging, rusted gates, and cared-for spirit houses.
It’s all there, the senses experiencing all the contrasts simultaneously. It’s both/and rather than either/or. There isn’t much choice in the matter. And so I’ve figured out to align with that instead and let it all be because that’s what it’s doing anyway.
Besides, I like feeling myself in new and different situations—not all situations, obviously, but ones that I’m up for the challenge. Some experiences are kind of scary, which takes some courage. Others are exciting but require some steadiness. Others feel more accessible but are entirely novel. The sensations can be pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral, and I don’t know which I’ll feel until I experience it. And I can’t always predict it, like being here.
So, last year, I learned something about myself—a personality trait I didn’t know I had—that’s been a relief because it explains a lot. I’m a high-sensation seeker and a highly sensitive person (Here’s a helpful link about what it is). It’s a weird balance between craving new experiences to feel what they feel like and getting overstimulated when a particular mix of sensations gets to be too much. Contrasts. Sensation and sensitivity.
Which brings me to how I’m responding to the contrasts experienced here. Instead of feeling overstimulated by the mix, I’m letting it in, observing and feeling the competing sensations all around and within me.
I wake up feeling alive and curious. I have simple morning routines that gently tether me. I feel at ease and chill in my days, whether sightseeing, walking around, or working on my writing and book. Some days, especially in the beginning, I felt unsure and uncomfortable. And last weekend, I felt alone and awkward. I’m experiencing myself in different ways just by being here. I also feel I’m releasing old knots and thought patterns, which is always a good thing.
There’s a word, sabai, which I’ve read about and was reminded of by a cab driver. It’s the most valuable way of being for Thai people. It means being at ease with all that is, feeling comfortable, relaxed, and, importantly, having inner peace. I think that energy is abundant here. It’s a cultural quality that runs deep and is felt.
I must be drinking from its elixir, as everyone else here surely is, too. Is that why outsiders come here? This curious place is full of contrasts, where sabai is in all of it and is the way to be. Being sabai is to touch the softness of ease, feel a taste of inner peace, hear the sound of a quiet mind, and see oneself differently.
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Chillin’...
LouLou
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