Why did the Traveller Cross the Road?

I’m standing by the side of the road my first full day in southern India. And the street in front of me is a swirl – humans, vehicles – and cows. Color streams by. 4 generations of one family ride a scooter together, balancing carefully – no helmets. Trucks pass seemingly imbalanced by mounds of hay or banana leaves. Goats, dogs, even elephants, can be in the flow. There’s rarely a sidewalk, and definitely no traffic lights or stop signs. Because the roads are so crowded, the speeds aren’t elevated. And, while the energy is not aggressive, there’s a lot going on in that road!

How can I possibly cross? Because, let’s face it, I did not travel for 20 hours to stand by the side.  The 7^th century temple that I want to explore is on the other side of this stream, as are all the many adventures that await. And so, it is time to do something we take for granted every day. It is time to do the seemingly impossible – it is time to cross the road.  

How? The hazards are too many. I look for an opening and dart out – whoa, nearly hit. The old-school video game Frogger comes to mind. Clearly our traffic norms do NOT apply here. Time to adapt. If I’m going to navigate here for 10 days without loads of anxiety, I’ll need to figure this out. Vishnu to the rescue. Side note: for those familiar with Hindu gods, you might think I’m evoking the name of Vishnu, the Protector and, in a way, I am. This time Vishnu is our guide and he is about to drop some wisdom with a major ripple effect on the lives of everyone in our group:

Walk. Don’t Run.

Don’t look left and right. Eyes facing forward.

Keep moving. Always.

Let me say it again so it sinks in:

Walk. Don’t Run.

Don’t look left and right. Eyes facing forward.

Keep moving. Always.

And so I take a breath, and step into the flow, following his sage directions. The impulse is to speed up. To look around and adjust to what is coming. To let fear and doubt dictate. NO! Keep moving. Walk. Look straight ahead. And it works.

Why?

Because I joined the flow, instead of working against it. Others know what to expect from me. They trust in me to finish what I’ve started, and so they adjust accordingly. They know that since I committed, well, I’ll see it through. They adjust their dance to mine. It’s steady. And my progress remains unwavering. The drivers know they can count on me. I know my role. I won’t throw them a dangerous curveball (like losing my nerve and starting to run). They know that we’ll work together to ensure safe crossing.

There’s mutual trust. And connectedness. No one ‘wins’. And, most importantly, no one loses. We’re in this dance together. While our paths may appear at cross-purposes, they are, in fact, synergistic. There’s room for everyone if we dance instead of spar. If we integrate our own personal goals (eg to get that pineapple on the other side of the street) with others goals (eg to keep flowing through town on the way to work).

You don’t need me to spell out the lessons here. There are many. Close your eyes and picture it; makes perfect sense and applies to all of life.  

So, when you next face a seemingly impossible crossing, a chaotic challenge, or a colorful flow of possibilities – imagine you are standing by the side of the Indian road. Pause, breathe, commit and

Walk. Don’t Run.

Don’t look left and right. Eyes facing forward.

Keep moving. Always.

And – bonus – when your travels take you one day to India, you’ll be ready.