Signal

On a work trip, I took the train to Shibuya, a district in Tokyo. From the train station, I looked out the window before deciding to become a tiny part of a busy intersection. I’d heard about the spectacle, but wasn’t ready for it.

If you haven’t seen it, whatever you are picturing is too small. It is the world’s busiest intersection. Approximately three thousand people cross every two minutes—almost 1.5 million people a week.

We watched from above to get a sense of the crowd before braving it ourselves. There was a little debate about whether seeing it was “good enough.” The intersection lights manage the flow of cars, and every two minutes, all cars are stopped. Pedestrians from every direction cross at the same time.

I’d mentally prepared for a near-violent experience of human pinball. What happened was magic. We picked a landmark across the intersection to target. People began crisscrossing from all five corners. The pace was quick, but controlled. My jacket or bag might have lightly brushed others, but I never made contact with anyone.

I noticed people used a hand in front of them to signal which direction they were headed. The collective crowd was certain where it was heading and deeply empathetic to those around them. There were tourists taking pictures, but everyone was still engaged in the primary activity.

A massive number of people arrived at their destination in a short period of time—without practice, without conflict. Simple empathy for strangers, attention, and basic nonverbal communication created an appearance of rehearsed orchestration.

Do I know where I am going? Am I making it easy for others to walk with me? Can simple empathy make even the busiest moments feel like choreography?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.