The Way You Change an Experience While You’re In It

Most people think experiences speak for themselves. But something else is happening while you’re inside them.

On this trip to Japan, I noticed three very different moments: a sand spa where I couldn’t control anything, a sushi dinner where I stopped managing and just responded, and a slow tour where I caught myself subtly adjusting to belong.

Each one showed me something I hadn’t fully seen before.

The way we think, interpret, and manage ourselves in real time doesn’t just sit alongside an experience; it changes it.

In this episode,  I’m staying inside those moments and noticing what was happening as they unfolded.

If you’ve ever found yourself overthinking, pulling back, or  adjusting even when you’re fully in something … this might help you see it differently.

Email: contact@changesbigandsmall.com

Join Skool: https://freedomlookslikethis.com/community

Shownotes: https://freedomlookslikethis.com

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

I was lying there completely covered in sand thinking what is happening to me? It had started off fine, almost nice, like a weighted blanket. And then something shifted and I thought I might have to escape, that I might have to get out of there. Most women think solo travel is about being brave or fearless, but it's really about letting go of the expectations holding you in place. This show is about what changes when you stop waiting and take yourself seriously, starting with intentional travel. I'm Damian and this is Freedom Looks Like This. Let's get started. I like sitting in the corner seat at a table, for example. And so I thought that this experience would be similar, that I would enjoy it. And at first it did feel like a weighted blanket, but then I could feel pulsing in my head. And I couldn't tell if it was my heart racing or if it was just my hearing being louder than usual, but it sounded like the rhythm of my heart was echoing in my head. I tried to regulate. Because then I wasn't just breathing, I was thinking about breathing. And I couldn't get back to just breathing automatically. So I had this thought, is this normal? Should I relax into this? Is this good for me? And then almost immediately after I thought I'm gonna be so embarrassed if I have to ask her to uncover me. It felt like failure. After all, all I had to do was just lie there. That was it. And suddenly it felt like I might not be able to do that. I keep thinking about this moment where I'm lying in hot sand at the at this spar and I couldn't tell what was happening, and I couldn't get out of it. There's something about being in a situation where you can't easily leave. I mean I was practically covered in sand. Somebody else, at least I thought so. I thought somebody else needed to come and uncover me. And I didn't know how much time was left. I wasn't in control of the timeline. And then all of the ways that I usually adjust my experience, they were not available to me. I couldn't shift my position easily. There was nothing to distract me. And I definitely didn't have my phone or headphones with me. I didn't know even whether there was somebody else in the room because I had a blindfold on. So there I was, in my body completely, and also not in my body, because at that exact same time I was in my head trying to make sense of what my body was doing. And I don't think I really paid attention until now to how often I do that, how often I split, where something is happening and I'm also watching it happen, trying to interpret it actively, consciously, and trying to decide if it's good or bad. And even trying to manage it. Because I thought if I were in control, I might have already left. Isn't that interesting? Because I did choose to be there. I paid money to have this experience because I thought it was something that I wanted. But once I was inside of it, I wanted a faster exit. Or at least I wanted the option of one. So when the staff member came and said there were five minutes left, I felt immediate relief. It was like my whole body was able to unclench. And I thought, okay, I can do this. I can count to 300. That's something I do sometimes. When I know there is a defined period of discomfort, it's easier for me to get through it. I can give myself something to move toward. So it's really as if I'm adding a structure inside of an unstructured time. And the other thing I kept doing is repeating, I can do hard things. And I did. I stayed. And I still don't actually know what that moment was. That moment when I was like, what is happening to me? Was I experiencing something and interrupting it by thinking too much? Or was my thinking what allowed me to stay in the moment? I don't know. On another night, I had a completely different experience on this trip. I went to a sushi restaurant, a small one, there was counter seating and just two or three tables, and I ordered the omakase. It ended up fitting like I had a private chef. There he was, right in front of me, carving the fish, presenting it to me. There was really no distance between me and what was happening. He asked me where I was from and about my travels, and his English was quite hesitant, very careful. I could see that he really was putting a lot of effort into it and thinking about what words to use. There's something about being a native English speaker that I notice more when I travel because there's really an imbalance from my perspective. Other people are doing so much work to accommodate me and meet me in my language. And sure, I use a translation app to translate things to their language, but it still feels off, kilter. And I try to hold that, to feel gratitude, to not take it for granted, and really let my appreciation be visible somehow. And I was able to accomplish that at the Omakase because there was this moment when he served me a piece of squid. He had finally cut it on both sides and had added lime zest as well as wasabi and some sort of sauce. When I tasted it, I made a sound. I didn't plan to actually make any noise, but it just came out. And I noticed when it was happening because it felt like delight. Then the chef laughed, and that magnified my delight. I was able to stay in the moment and not pull back or correct myself. And for once, when it comes to expressing myself in public like this, I didn't think, is it too much? I just stayed right there and enjoyed it. This was such a different experience from the sand because I wasn't managing the experience, I was just fully inside it. But there was something else there too, that feeling of receiving because he was working so hard, not just on my meal, but also on the conversation. I could see his effort, and all I had to do was be there and enjoy the moment, eating, responding, really being in receiving mode. And that is not the position I'm most comfortable in. I am much more used to being the one who gives, the one who adjusts and makes things easier for other people. And here I was on the other side of that, and it felt uneven. And I had a third experience on this trip that's related. I was in Lake Biwa, staying in one of the towns around the lake, and one day I was just looking for something to do, and I found this small town Harie that did private tours. I didn't even know what a kabata was, but they taught people about kabatas, and I thought, you know what? Let's flip a coin. I can just see what the universe has in store for me. I like to metaphorically flip a coin sometimes. So what I do is when I think something might be unlikely, or when I'm not sure between different options because they seem like something I would be interested in, I reach for one of them and see what happens. If I get it, excellent. Decision made. No need to overthink it. And so in this case, the website said that you need to book one month in advance. And it was the day before I wanted to go on the tour. So I thought, okay, let me send an email and see what happens. I did, and I got a response back later that same day. And it worked out. Someone had cancelled, and suddenly I had a one-on-one tour. I met the guide at the community center and we walked through the town, stopping at different capadas. I tasted the water. He joked that I would become a water connoisseur by the time we were done. And I really learned how the system worked, how the community has these shared values and agreements around water, how everything is maintained collectively. We didn't walk very far, but we spent about an hour together, just going slowly and stopping, conversing. And there was something about that pace of moving slowly and quietly through a space where I didn't have to do anything or accomplish anything, where all that was asked of me was to observe and listen. That was very peaceful. And then at one point he asked me if I was into water. Because most people who come have some connection to it, like they work in Warsaw Services. And I said I wasn't, but my friend was. Which friend? I do not have a friend in water. So why did I say that? I immediately knew why I said it. I said it because sometimes I still don't feel like I belong. Like maybe there was a reason people came here and it wasn't just curiosity. And I shouldn't just be there because of curiosity. Like in an instant, that old story came up. And I cut myself off and changed the topic. I moved away from this small white lie, and the rest of the talk continued. But I was aware of how quickly I bring up this old pattern of unbelonging. Where that might not even be the intention of the other person. I've been thinking about these three experiences because they feel very different, but they are also connected. In one, I couldn't control anything. In another, I was completely present. And in the third, I was mostly observing but also adjusting myself as I went. And across all three of them, there's this question that keeps coming up for me about what does it mean to actually be inside an experience? I don't mean having an experience or moving through it, but letting it move me in some way or change me or affect me in some way while I'm still in it. Because I think a lot of the time I'm slightly outside of what is happening, watching it, interpreting it. This has come up many times in my life, and people have also told me that. And it has its place. We all make sense of things by comparing them and contrasting them and interpreting them. And sometimes doing that helps me stay in a moment, in an experience, like in the sand. But I also wonder what does it take away? If I think about the sushi moment, there was no gap or analysis, there was just response. And I think that's what being inside an experience feels like. Similarly, in Harie, I was present, but then that small moment of self-consciousness came up because I felt like I didn't belong. And it did change something. It brought up embarrassment for me. So I don't think it's about choosing to be one way or the other. It's not about deciding I should always be present or I should always be reflective. We can be many things. Both of them serve something in our experience. For me, one of the things that I want to catch myself in is noticing when I'm moving into observing mode and distancing myself from an experience. Because it's very easy for me to do that, to quickly step outside of something, even when I'm still in it. So, what does the experience call for from me? This is what I want to connect in. Sometimes it asks for surrender, and that might be uncomfortable. At other times it asks for presence, being there completely without interruption. I don't think I have a clean answer for this. But also, I don't think I have to. But I do think that these three experiences are still working on me. That there is something I'm taking home with me as a result of them. And so when I talk about integration, this is what I mean. Integration starts in the experience when you notice something and don't immediately move away from it or try to fix it. So my invitation for you is to just notice where you have an experience and also watching yourself have it. And when that happens, are you able just for a moment, even for a few seconds, to let one of them go? To stay fully in your body, for example, instead of your head. For most of us, that's the real opportunity. Staying present in our body and not escaping into our heads. Thanks for spending this time with me. If something in this episode resonated, choose one small action from today and try it in whatever way feels doable for you. And if you want the simplest place to start, you can join the school community to build a bit of momentum.