Before we define what we mean by "seeing the village," let's take a moment to consider why we should see it. This exploration will help us understand why some people might focus on the broader world instead. Asking "why" is an age-old question, so it's only natural to start here.
First, my Garmin tells me my VO2 max is at 51, the best it's ever been—an improvement from the previous 50. This suggests I'm at the prime of my physical health, meaning my body can use oxygen more efficiently during intense workouts. Second, I feel genuinely satisfied; I don't feel the need to chase after anything, yet I'm hopeful that I'll excel in whatever challenges come my way. It's a sort of self-confidence. Third, I feel I have complete control over everything. I'm sure that as a "rational mind," I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to. Fourth, I've had a start-up idea about making an event more social—encouraging people to "see the village" rather than just be glued to the "world" in our pockets. Fifth, I witnessed a battle between the sun and clouds that spanned the entire day. This list could go on, but I don't have a gauge to rate one experience above the other. Once the "why" is clear, we can consider stepping out of our "cave." This can be cathartic, providing a much-needed break to improve our physical and mental well-being.
So, what does "seeing the village" mean? The closest analogy might be reading a book, with the book representing the village and reading representing the act of seeing with complete attention and focus. It could mean looking at a mountain with a reader's perspective, feeling as if you could gaze at it for hours, pondering its size, origin, or even its imaginary thoughts and feelings. "Seeing the village" could be a mental jog, sprint, hop, or drive, originating from a single entity. That entity could be a mountain, a river, the wind, a person, a local dog, a car, or even yourself. It means being present in the moment without concern for the past or the future. We've been at the threshold of the cave for a long time; let's move ahead and explore further.
Let's go to the Pink Floyd Cafe in Tosh, Himachal Pradesh. Tosh is a small village in the hinterland with a niche appeal for hippies, and the Pink Floyd Cafe is its most famous spot. The cafe has a TV with an IPL cricket match between Hyderabad and Mumbai. The cafe is filled with an interesting crowd: a few couples, three groups of five or more, and some others. However, 7 out of 10 people are watching the IPL match, and 2 are glued to their phones. It fascinates me that 90% of the people in Tosh choose to engage with the "world in their pocket" rather than "seeing the village." While I understand the appeal of cricket, I find it intriguing that so many people on vacation in Tosh opt to connect with their devices rather than appreciate their surroundings—the cafe, the graffiti, the decorative lamps, the bedsheets, or the mountains outside the window. Each of these elements could have a unique story to tell about why they are there and how they came to be.
Imagine if the Pink Floyd Cafe were a person. Seven of the ten people who engage with her are like children asking their elders for their phones—the "world in her pocket." Two others would be like silent teenagers, absorbed in their phones. Only one out of ten people would be interacting with the cafe or the village, experiencing the unique charm of Tosh.
We, as humans, have the capacity to bring places to life. What if the Pink Floyd Cafe could communicate how many people are genuinely seeing the village and how many are absorbed in their devices? Would that help us connect with her and the village more? More importantly, would it help us feel more alive?
Improvement need - jumpy at cave analogy, & thought jump is between para is not smooth
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