When I was a hitchhiking teen in the 1990s, my fellow travelers and I called this the "pizza philosophy." When you are hungry, if you give yourself to the universe, before you starve, a pizza will always fall from the sky onto your lap. The key is that you will not be able to pick the toppings. This happened again and again till it took a mystical quality. To the point where givers would seek me out, even if I just curled up and went to sleep under a tree, and provided no suggestion that I was in need. I have traversed the USA, Mexico, Southeast Asia, Europe, Oceania, and Africa, and the pizza philosophy has never failed me.
Wow, just that question, how will the miracle happen today? And the realization that it has nothing to do with being worthy or even needy, it's about participating in the economy of kindness. You may receive a miracle of your own while also being someone else's miracle today. Thank you, Kevin!
I love this idea: Instead of believing everyone is out to get you, you believe everyone is out to help you. This is my favorite piece of writing I've read this week.
This is beautiful, and something I’ve thought a lot about how to nurture. I admit, I will lend my house, car, or anything I own to someone I know, but I do not feel like I can for a stranger. I would not pick up a hitchhiker or let a stranger stay in my house. It wouldn’t seem safe.
Maybe a bicyclist camping in my backyard wouldn’t seem as risky, but Warm Showers exists for that, and Home Exchange for houses, both are places where I can vouch for that missing context about a person and ensure they are safe and reputable.
There are things like that that help the miracle today, but I do feel nostalgic for the way of life you describe where it is a given, and wonder if it’s more possible to produce within certain circumstances.
I remember working on a project once in London and one of my female colleagues described being approached by a stranger on the Tube (subway) platform. Immediately another colleague jumped in to denounce the predatory deviant and decry modern life in general only to have her tell him she’d given the man the money he asked for and been gifted a fascinating story of an idiosyncratic life in exchange. She’d been uplifted by the encounter. Her world was large, open, inviting - pronoic. My other colleague’s was cramped, distrustful and, he clearly felt, the more realistic.
“Cynicism is the imagination of the mediocre” Coln Powell (somewhat surprisingly but no less wiser for that)
Love this piece so much, Kevin! I think that miracle you describe is one of the best things about travel. Like you, I've experienced so much grace from complete strangers, from a ride and a place to stay in NZ to vodka shots with Russians at Lake Irkutsk to (many, many) free places to stay while bikepacking.
The more exposed and vulnerable I've been during my travels, the more people showed up. I think it's the primary reason people who travel are different when they return home. It's almost disappointing to be traveling in a comfy Airstream these days because we don't need anything. Maybe I need to seek out opportunities to receive kindness?
Anyway, so glad you're on Substack these days and continuing to share your thoughts. Always a pleasure reading your work. Cheers from Organ Pipe National Monument in AZ!
(P.S. A friend and I are going to use your and Craig's Walk and Talk organizer for a jaunt, thank you for creating that idea.)
Today a friend came over to fix my broken shelf. His wife said he wouldn't take any money, but I offered it and then offered a trade. He refused. When the shelf didn't hold, he came back and fixed it again. Then he fixed the wobbly leg on the coffee table. He noted that the wooden panels on the coffee table and kitchen table were warping because they had been glued into the frame, a mistake. He said his wife could come over in her van and take them back to their house where he would fix them in his shop.
When I was a hitchhiking teen in the 1990s, my fellow travelers and I called this the "pizza philosophy." When you are hungry, if you give yourself to the universe, before you starve, a pizza will always fall from the sky onto your lap. The key is that you will not be able to pick the toppings. This happened again and again till it took a mystical quality. To the point where givers would seek me out, even if I just curled up and went to sleep under a tree, and provided no suggestion that I was in need. I have traversed the USA, Mexico, Southeast Asia, Europe, Oceania, and Africa, and the pizza philosophy has never failed me.
Wow, just that question, how will the miracle happen today? And the realization that it has nothing to do with being worthy or even needy, it's about participating in the economy of kindness. You may receive a miracle of your own while also being someone else's miracle today. Thank you, Kevin!
I love this idea: Instead of believing everyone is out to get you, you believe everyone is out to help you. This is my favorite piece of writing I've read this week.
I wasn't expecting to read something so beautiful today. Thank you, Kevin, for your life and your words.
This made me think about authorship as a practice of receiving, not just producing. The discipline of being helped.
This is beautiful, and something I’ve thought a lot about how to nurture. I admit, I will lend my house, car, or anything I own to someone I know, but I do not feel like I can for a stranger. I would not pick up a hitchhiker or let a stranger stay in my house. It wouldn’t seem safe.
Maybe a bicyclist camping in my backyard wouldn’t seem as risky, but Warm Showers exists for that, and Home Exchange for houses, both are places where I can vouch for that missing context about a person and ensure they are safe and reputable.
There are things like that that help the miracle today, but I do feel nostalgic for the way of life you describe where it is a given, and wonder if it’s more possible to produce within certain circumstances.
Wow. Thank you, Kevin, that hit home.
I remember working on a project once in London and one of my female colleagues described being approached by a stranger on the Tube (subway) platform. Immediately another colleague jumped in to denounce the predatory deviant and decry modern life in general only to have her tell him she’d given the man the money he asked for and been gifted a fascinating story of an idiosyncratic life in exchange. She’d been uplifted by the encounter. Her world was large, open, inviting - pronoic. My other colleague’s was cramped, distrustful and, he clearly felt, the more realistic.
“Cynicism is the imagination of the mediocre” Coln Powell (somewhat surprisingly but no less wiser for that)
Thanks, Kevin. I needed this little miracle today.
“mystery to me that when” than
Love this piece so much, Kevin! I think that miracle you describe is one of the best things about travel. Like you, I've experienced so much grace from complete strangers, from a ride and a place to stay in NZ to vodka shots with Russians at Lake Irkutsk to (many, many) free places to stay while bikepacking.
The more exposed and vulnerable I've been during my travels, the more people showed up. I think it's the primary reason people who travel are different when they return home. It's almost disappointing to be traveling in a comfy Airstream these days because we don't need anything. Maybe I need to seek out opportunities to receive kindness?
Anyway, so glad you're on Substack these days and continuing to share your thoughts. Always a pleasure reading your work. Cheers from Organ Pipe National Monument in AZ!
(P.S. A friend and I are going to use your and Craig's Walk and Talk organizer for a jaunt, thank you for creating that idea.)
Today a friend came over to fix my broken shelf. His wife said he wouldn't take any money, but I offered it and then offered a trade. He refused. When the shelf didn't hold, he came back and fixed it again. Then he fixed the wobbly leg on the coffee table. He noted that the wooden panels on the coffee table and kitchen table were warping because they had been glued into the frame, a mistake. He said his wife could come over in her van and take them back to their house where he would fix them in his shop.
Great Kevin!
pure joy, pronoia, kindee...thank you KK
pronoia! It’s January and for sure this is the word of the year for me!!! What a beautiful article and message… thank you so much! ❤️
I don’t have the courage for this…
How do you thank and return the kindness to the people who helped you? I'm thinking about the family who opened their last canned meat for you