Dipika Kohli
By Dipika Kohli
Sometimes people tell me I’m a philosopher, and I guess that kinda does fit.
At times I may pull quotes out of thin air that pop to mind when I’m talking to brand new people, for example, this one, which came up yesterday: ‘Nothing changes if nothing changes.’ It was a small group of retirees living in Siem Reap. I ran into them by walking by, noticing, and stopping in. I was the youngest, I think. They said, ‘Have a seat. Tell us about you.’ And I did.
Talking to random people, pre-pandemic, was a big part of my personality. It’s coming back. Of the dozen or so who’ve known me for decades, they’ll be chuckling to know that I’m talking to new people in new places whom I don’t know very freely, once again.
‘But you can just mute the group,’ one of the elderly gentlemen said, pulling out a smartphone, tapping the familiar blue paper airplane icon. ‘It’s not good etiquette.’
This was by the side of the river, in Siem Reap, a town I’d not been to for more than ten years, but it had been the most important port city of my life, as this was where my ten-years-and-counting chapter in Cambodia first began. Perhaps in this decade, I learned to value my attention more than ever, turning off the valves where there was a threat of losing confidence, or being undermined, or facing the hostility that some will have because they’re in a bad place. You know what I mean.
‘But it’s still there, sitting there, taking up mental space.’
‘True. But I would never leave a group because I’d be worried people would say, “Why did he leave the group?”‘
‘But, why? Do you really care that much about what they might say? I mean, we’re not teens!’
‘I care… though. I care. I don’t want to send a message that’s seen as passive aggressive.’
‘But if it’s not adding value, why keep it around?’
The Paradox of Choice comes to mind, here, and so does The Law of Two Feet.
Instead of going into explainer-lecturer mode, though, I let it go. Sometimes it is best to simply conserve your energy. Not wanting to not be liked is a real issue. I see that. I know that, and it’s understandable. But I… can’t relate. I care about my time and attention more than I care if someone’s going to gossip-hate. So what if they do. So what if they’re former friends or relatives or people I grew up with. So what?
It’s a mindset I learned from many excellent mentors. Artists in New York, I think, were the first of that crop. They encouraged me to keep inquiring into things, philosophically, and play with ideas and find out stuff. They didn’t get threatened by someone younger saying something cool. They said, ‘Let’s get a drink and talk about that some more.’
Artist-poet-musician-writer types don’t bother talking about the practicalities of how to make a living making art. Such chitchat is a waste of breath. It’s not important. Mostly, it’s simply… boring.
Something cool happens when you delete things, like silly conversations that don’t add value to your life, I feel. It makes space. New people, new places, new ideas, new… new possibilities, in general. I like that.
Attitude shifts can move mountains or help us frame things by getting perspective. Maybe that was why I like to get out of my routines and comfort zone every so often. Even a little shift like Phnom Penh to Siem Reap can do so much to show me how good I have it, right where I am. To be away, you can see, from a distance, just how lovely the things you have truly are.
‘I don’t want to lecture or anything, but I think that’s it, for me. Being aware. Of what I have, but also what I don’t have to deal with. All… of whatever it is, that’s going on back there… all of you are from the United States? Oh? She’s from Finland, huh. Switzerland? Oh, okay, hi. No, I haven’t been back, whatever back means, now, for ten years. No, eleven. Wait, is it almost twelve? Jeez.’
‘You’ve been living in Cambodia for ten years?’
‘Yeah, well, almost two were in Viet Nam.’
‘That sounds like the pandemic.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, it was.’
I heard more from them about what I’d been missing back in the United States. It’s divided. It’s hostile. It’s negative. It’s expensive. Healthcare costs are way up. The middle class… and so on. It was cool to have cultural reference points that some of us talk about when we get together with people who share the same passport cover. I guess, if there’s one thing I miss about living in the United States, it’s having some people ambiently around to laugh at my terrible jokes. Did I see Groundhog Day, someone asked. ‘Yeah, I did. Twice.’
Dipika Kohli is an author who is based in Phnom Penh. Discover her books at kismuth.com and other projects at dipikakohli.com.
