Ritual Behavior

By Sara Alterman
July 26 2008

Up until my mid-twenties, I abhorred routine.  Doing the same things, seeing the same people, even living in the same apartment for more than a year seemed stale and uninspiring; an old-lady lifestyle ill-suited for a young, urban woman.

I don't know what the catalyst for change was, but somehow, in the past two years, I began to develop rituals.  A regular daily work schedule; a favorite coffee shop; weekly Sunday brunches, replete with crossword puzzles; a closely knit group of near and dears.  Suddenly, I found myself to be everything I never wanted to; a member of social and occupational communities, with predictable haunts, a solid professional reputation, and a network of people who know me beyond just knowing my face and my last name.  And, strangely, I like it that way.

Here, in China, I miss the comfort derived from routine, from having a beer with a familiar face and not having to divulge life stories, because they're already shared knowledge, sometimes even relationship foundations.  I miss my job, I miss my coffee shop, I miss walking my dog down the Davis Square bike path so that he can socialize with canine friends, and I their respective human counterparts.  

A colleague who herself just returned from a year living in Beijing advised me to avoid seeking out Western groceries and English-language movies.  They're a false sense of home, she said, and, ultimately, they won't be comforting.  I agree.  I find no comfort in packaged cookies and grande lattes, or the retro music videos I discovered one night on my television.  I don't miss things; I miss the way my life fits together at home, especially since it took me so long to fit it together in the first place.