[me and two friends about 2am, on a ledge at Chaos in Manila, 2015]
I didn’t start going out to nightclubs in earnest until I was 45.
The fact that people ‘my age’ didn’t do that, of course, coupled with a lifetime aversion and self-consciousness about dancing in general meant that nightclubs were, for me, merely places for young sweaty people to act ridiculous and try to hook up with each other in a drunken haze. Since dancing wasn’t one of those “things I did” -- on the rare occasions I went to clubs, they seemed pretty silly, as I tried to conjure up excitement the way non-dancers do, by focusing on drinking and making snide remarks about other people. My biases being heartily confirmed, I was content to avoid that scene wherever I went.
One day in Manila, I ventured out of my comfort zone, and dropped that limiting assumption by taking a hip hop class with a few friends, learned a few things (more mindset than moves), and started to have fun. Madelle, one of our teachers, told me to look in the mirror while I was moving -- I told her that I wasn’t used to watching myself in the mirror. She paused, smiled, and said “Well, that’s the way you look. You can either deal with it, or not. Up to you.” Laurence taught us that attitude was more important than technical moves; Deo taught us to adapt and dive deep into the music. More than that, we let their energy and knowledge influence our outlook, and benefited enormously from it.
Eventually this led us to befriending and then sponsoring the Filipino team that would go on to win the World Hip Hop Championship in 2008, a team which later bestowed the honorary “G-Father” handle on me; this catalyzed a period of 10+ years when I hosted large parties at nightclubs all through Asia, vibing / laughing / ciphering / battling with a wide variety of superlative dancers, and bonding with old and new friends in ways I could have never imagined before discovering the nightclub world was a lot more than the outdated stereotype I had in my antiquated head. In the process, I also discovered a lot more about myself, and my capabilities (and limitations). To be clear, I’ll never pass for a talented dancer, but I’m quite comfortable on the floor in all my well-traveled mediocrity.
From an engagement party in Manila for two OG dancers where the highlight was the couple's battles, to an impromptu performance at a YouTube party at Sundance, to running the room with an Albanian gangster and his bored model friends in London, I’ve been fortunate to have a long list of memorable dance evenings. One of my Manila crew actually did a Ph.D and teaches street dance at a university; he introduced me to Joseph Schloss’ Foundation: B-boys, B-girls and Hip-Hop Culture in New York, which was also important in my development. The unwritten rules of a dance cypher are common sense to me, just from watching and participating in them.
Identifying limiting assumptions
As we age, we can develop psychological plaque -- comfortable narratives about limiting assumptions which arbitrarily close down entire areas for exploration, or behavioral development. Our own success often seduces us to the view that we are already fully formed, without compelling reasons to continue examining and mitigating our weaknesses, or adding capabilities and capacities.
Limiting assumptions include behaviors and skills like “I’m an inveterate procrastinator” or “I’m not a morning person” or “I can’t sing” or “math doesn’t agree with me” -- all the way to larger concepts like “I’m a classic introvert.” I’m sure there will be objections by morning people and the math-averse -- my point is that even around the various labels, there is some degree of flexibility but the label encourages stasis rather than an adaptive attitude.
I’m also not arguing that absolutely everything is malleable; rather I’m saying that the universe of malleable or partially malleable traits is probably larger than we want to admit, because the limiting assumption of non-malleability is a normal defense against looking silly or ever attempting to deal with a difficult area.
Putting yourself at risk
Learning something new is a variable outcome exercise, but one which is happily skewed -- given enough effort, a positive outcome is generally possible, but that initial energy and effort is required and invariably a period of feeling silly/stupid/self-conscious will transpire, followed by a period of slowly increasing competency (kind of like a J-curve). This is perhaps the classic model of HARD/HAPPY, as discussed last week.
With any luck, the benefit of suspending a limiting assumption and learning something new is far greater than any unidimensional improvement in that particular skill -- ideally it opens up possibilities in other dimensions. Confronting my fears and apprehension about dancing was a portal into a level of interaction which I had never imagined; a process in which I learned, through some trial and error, how to curate nightclub events in a way that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts -- the soaring emotional highs and feeling of shared intimacy are a function of the friends, the music, dance, and a judicious addition of a little alcohol (and lots of rehydrators!).
In my view, a nightclub high is a rare event that burns intensely for a few elated minutes -- sometimes I describe it as a “group orgasm” as the energy spirals higher and higher -- the experience is psychologically transformative. Those moments are elusive: there is no explicit recipe to guarantee production of that effect.
At a more modest level, highs are achievable at a karaoke night as well -- but it is not a function of everyone’s “go-to” song, because the real quest is finding the right song for that specific group, at that specific time. Karaoke nights are about finding common ground through common experience, not a competition of individual aptitudes as on shows like The Voice. The “right” song for the group might fall flat at the beginning of the session; it would almost certainly go pffft if repeated. I mention this because exploration and getting out of one’s comfort zone is important to dynamically discovering what this song or group of songs might be (the answer is never “Desperado”!). By venturing away from the go-tos and the standards, the emotional center of the group becomes accessible, and the collective high is related to the sense that “I can’t believe we’re all so into this silly song” -- and there is a vivid freshness to each person’s experience; no one cares if the singing isn’t pitch perfect.
I remember an amusing night in Singapore a few years back when a group of us piled into a taxi, on the way to a second club just after midnight -- Stevie Wonder’s I Just Called to Say I Love You came on the radio and within the first few chords, we had turned the taxi into a mobile karaoke room (including the driver!), attracting smiles from nearby pedestrians. From that perspective, familiarity with a connectable theme is the normal target area, but bonding over obscure songs (“I can’t believe you love this song too!”) can be quite intense when it occurs. I remember another evening in Tokyo, when my neighbors complained vociferously about our rocking out to Bon Jovi… but it was totally worth it.
Sure, but what have you learned lately?
These processes take time, they aren’t necessarily daily pursuits. But they can have an outsized impact in our general satisfaction and process of self-discovery.
More recently, I’ve gotten into international cricket, after being happily prodded by a number of friends. The usual narrative in the US is that the rules of cricket are incomprehensible to Americans, the matches are too long, and therefore the sport is both inscrutable and boring. But really, it’s just another limiting assumption. Since I (normally) travel to many places where cricket is beloved, even my modest cricket knowledge is useful because expectations about American cricket knowledge are even lower, enabling me to learn from anyone who is an enthusiast. I think cricket fully permeated my being during the 2019 ICC World Cup final between England (yay) and New Zealand -- I was in Hawaii, not a convenient time zone -- I watched the entire match, punctuated with the ridiculous excitement of a rare super-over, from 11:30 pm to about 8am, barely sleeping at all, with all the adrenaline coursing through me.
Now I hope cricket comes to virtual reality in earnest -- I can’t wait for the opportunity to take to the virtual pitch and get a first hand sense of how difficult it is to be Chris Gayle (or Washington Sundar).
Even more recently, because I miss Japan so much, I’ve been working through all the fundamentals of Japanese food -- I’m familiar with many other cuisines but despite spending most of my life in Japan, I had previously been content to leave Japanese experiences to the master chefs (partly because of the provenance issue). Moving to Los Angeles, where there are quite a number of excellent Japanese groceries, has made this much easier. In the old days, I used to make marinara sauce when I came back from vacation, to impart the aromas and sense of home; now, the first thing I do is to make awase dashi.
Time constraint caveat
Being able to deal with many limiting assumptions takes time, in addition to other resources, and not everyone has the time flexibility to do intensive clubbing, for instance. That said, lifting some limiting assumptions in the behavioral space might take no more time than usual, in that the issue is one of framing and outcomes -- lifting the limiting assumption might change the way you react, or the outcomes, without requiring more time per se. If you decide you can be open minded about something you were historically stubborn about, that might not change your time allocation; if you decide to be less accommodating and say NO to requests more often, that actually might save quite a bit of time. But I do not deny that having the time to remediate something or learn a skill is a factor which comes into play.
Final thoughts: beating the dead hedonic horse
The last few weeks, the theme running through these pages has had a kind of “carpe diem” message -- , learn something new, say NO more often, add a bit of spice to your life, mix up the usual patterns, deprive yourself of the usual luxuries in order to appreciate them more, search out epiphanies, etc. The well-worn idea of “happiness being expectations minus reality” does make sense to me -- it neatly explains the hedonic treadmill, the anesthetic nature of wealth, and why wealth doesn’t correlate with happiness as much as people think it should.
I suppose many of these ‘life hacks’ are ways of manufacturing variable outcome games (a source of life excitement), without going down the route of dangerous addictive behaviors (sex, gambling, drugs), all while keeping the “odds” pretty strongly in your favor -- eg. getting better at something is much better than a 50:50 proposition, with a reasonable amount of effort; and a few nights at a 3 star hotel will be a minor inconvenience compared to how much it enhances the appreciation of future 5 star stays; adding furikake to your white rice, or ordering something different from a familiar menu is a relatively low-risk proposition.
But I have probably beaten this poor horse long enough, I will endeavor to venture onto other themes in future weeks.