It was in my early 20s, on the edge of a cliff in Northern Thailand, when I first felt the power of a simple yet firm “no.” I was at Chiang Mai’s Grand Canyon, a quarry-turned-swimming hole popular for cliff jumping, and I could hear half a dozen backpackers tittering behind me as they awaited their turns. I, meanwhile, stood petrified at the cliff’s edge.
As I looked down at the glimmering turquoise water down below, my hands getting damp, my heart thudding, it dawned on me that I wasn’t having fun. I felt ill at the thought of jumping. And the only reason I could come up with for doing it was to tell others, later, that I had. I sheepishly turned on my heels to face the line of other travelers, and pushed my way past them. Back down to safety, and back down to my comfort zone.
Travel culture has long been focused on pushing yourself to your limits—taking risks, even. We…
