How Ice Cream and a Blind Massage Helped Me Find Flow
What It Really Means to Let Go and Tap into the Dao
They say balance is everything.
Balance your yin and yang, and you’ll flow with the dao. It sounds poetic, even mystical. But really, it’s about knowing when to act and when to pause. It’s a skill as relevant to your to-do list as it is to ancient philosophy.
You can think of the dao as the natural flow of life—a current that carries you forward when you align with it and resists you when you don’t.
It’s about embracing balance, working with your energy instead of against it, and trusting that sometimes, stillness is the most productive action of all.
A Hike That Nearly Killed Me: How the Dao Showed Me the Way
A couple of weeks ago, I was traveling through Thailand, eager to see the sights. In my enthusiasm, I agreed to a hike that almost did me in.
It was an ambitious choice to say I was in the low-energy phase of my menstrual cycle, so the trek left me completely drained. This was a problem because I was determined to finally launch this blog in the days that followed, but my body wasn’t having it.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a car that wouldn’t start.
Frustration loomed, but then I caught myself. Over the years, I’ve learned that if I feel like I’m forcing myself through quicksand, it’s time to pause and recalibrate. Because sometimes, being productive means not doing anything—at least not right away.
Instead, I let my intuition—my sixth sense for opportunity—lead me.
If I don’t feel lit up about something, it means I’m either missing a piece of the puzzle or heading in the wrong direction. It’s like sniffing out a trail of quantum breadcrumbs with my energy and enthusiasm as my guide.
A Day of Non-Productive Productiveness
It was clear I wasn't meant to write. At least not yet.
But despite my sorry state, I didn't feel like just lying around all day, and so I gave myself permission to wander—metaphorically and literally.
I went for a stroll, and it wasn’t long before a Japanese ice cream shop caught my eye. Minutes later, I was devouring a vanilla swirl topped with macadamia and Biscoff.
Feeling slightly more human after that, I returned to my accommodation and napped. But when I woke up, my body was still protesting. That's when I remembered I was in Thailand, and that the solution to my pain was obvious.
The Blind Massage: Painful, Beautiful, Transformative
Earlier that day, I learned that some massages in Thailand are given by the visually impaired. This made perfect sense to me.
“Why wouldn’t a blind person be great at giving massages?” I'd mused. “The leftover energy from that unused sense perception has to go somewhere,” and it’s thoughts like these that make me question whether I’m brilliant or insane.
Anyway, this woman pummelled the shit out of me.
She dug her fingers into my neck with an intensity I’d never experienced before. I was certain that if she applied that pressure in the wrong spot, she'd cut off my circulation and put me in the hospital. But when it was over and I hadn't died, I was surprised to notice that all the heaviness I’d felt that morning was gone.
Hallelujah.
Ramen and the Art of Singular Focus
My mind clearer, my body lighter, I left a tip and staggered out the parlour in search of food. Dinner was at a boutique ramen shop.
When I arrived, there were just two customers in the charming little restaurant. But then the chef emerged, visibly flustered and panicked.
“I’m working alone,” he said, motioning to the absence of staff. It was just him, me, and the two other customers.
He was looking pained for every second he spent talking to me instead of in his kitchen. It was clear that whatever he was cooking needed his full attention, and he was on the brink of fucking it up. “Please wait two minutes!” he blurted, and it came out in a slightly aggressive bark.
I assured him two minutes was fine, and then he disappeared for ten. When he returned, he delivered the first customers’ orders and then took mine. He then didn’t come out of the kitchen again for about twenty minutes. During that time, more customers wandered in and hovered around, confused and un-greeted.
I explained the poor chef’s predicament, hoping to dissuade them from ringing the bell and getting barked at like I had. But that twenty minutes of the chef’s undivided attention ended up producing a bowl so perfect, it could have been served at Jiro’s sushi counter.
It was the best bowl of ramen I'd eaten in my life, and I’ve eaten my way around a lot of Japan.
Hallelujah again.
The Download: Authentic Expression Is Key
I left my payment tucked under my bowl and slipped out. I didn’t realize it yet, but I was soon to discover that this day of “unproductiveness” had been exactly what I needed.
I waddled home to meditate.
As soon as I settled into stillness, the cutting precision that characterizes my “downloads” struck me. I realized exactly what had been missing and why I hadn’t found the energy to start my blog like I’d planned.
The missing piece was humor.
Whatever I wrote needed to be funny.
Here’s the thing: I hadn’t planned on making this blog funny. I’m a scientist by trade, so a lot of what I’ve been creating for this project reflects that scientific rigor. But that’s not all of who I am, and I kind of think the way scientists communicate is annoying.
They’re brilliant, sure, but they often meander into conceptual weeds, leaving onlookers scratching their heads. Not to mention that they take their conclusions so seriously, oblivious to the growing evidence that we may all just be living in a hologram.1
I find all of this very funny.
Every profession has its blind spots, of course. But I know from studying the wisdom traditions that authentic expression is the secret sauce for any creative endeavor. If I stuck to just a scientific voice and ignored the humor I naturally see in the world, it would strip away a lot of what gives my writing its strength.
And that’s when I saw the bigger picture of what my day had been.
I was on the brink of laying shaky foundations for a project I care deeply about, but the wiser flow of life stopped me in my tracks. It forced me to abandon my goals for the day, which for a productivity-junkie like me feels like hell.
But this is how surrender works, and it’s always worth it.
In cutesy spiritual terms, I needed to “listen to my body.”
In plainer terms, I needed to slow down, stuff my face, and get pummelled into an altered state of consciousness by a blind woman to reach my highest potential. Because if I hadn't, I’d not have gotten the clarity to get this right, and perhaps you wouldn’t still be reading.
Final Thought: Flow Is About Timing
Flow isn’t about forcing yourself to grind. It’s about moving in harmony with your internal and external environments. Sometimes, this means pushing forward. Other times, it means pulling back.
When you pause and listen to what your body and intuition are telling you, you align with your natural rhythm. Paradoxically, this makes you more productive in the long run—this is the dao in action.
So the next time you feel stuck, consider pausing.
Go for the ice cream. Book the massage. Wait for your “aha” moment to show you the way forward. Because the dao isn’t a destination. It’s in the swirl of a perfect ice cream cone, the skill of a focused chef, and the magic of giving yourself permission to just be.
I hope you enjoyed this brief introduction to the dao, which is just one of the themes I hope to explore with you here at The Aussie Mystic. If you did enjoy it, consider subscribing to be notified about future posts and all the great tools I've got in store for you.
Stromberg, J. (2015, June 29). Holographic universe theory: Why some physicists believe we’re living in a giant hologram. Vox. https://www.vox.com/2015/6/29/8834705/holographic-universe