Habit Forming

We are, many of us, creatures of habit. Familiar routines and places punctuate our existence. Despite being someone who doesn’t fret change when thrust upon me, I do find comfort in my day to day rituals: the same corner table at Starbucks where I can write with a view of passers by on the street, weekends of dog walks, grocery shopping, brunches and movie going. I like that the guy behind the counter knows just how I like my vanilla latte and am accustomed to seeing the same folks stumbling towards the dog park each morning, unclipping leashes and letting their puppies romp for a bit while they make small talk about the goings on in the neighbourhood.

If Aristotle is correct and we are what we repeatedly do, then I am most certainly a dog walker, a writer, a movie goer and bookshop browser, a coffee hound, a laundry avoider and a muser. He was a smart guy. I can live with what my habits say about me. Mind you, he is also to have said “all paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind”. It’s a shame I also have this pesky habit of keeping a roof over my head.

Coming home from the movies today, I saw a woman on the subway reading TS Eliot’s The Wasteland. She had an interesting bohemian look to her, a shock of bleached blond hair ruffed up and sticking out in all directions. The sundress she was wearing gave anyone who looked a nice view of the tattoo curling around from her back and over her shoulder – a gorgeous medieval drawing of an angel, wings spreading. I love encountering people like this. They rouse me from the regular of in my life and remind me of the importance to live unimpeded by convention, and go boldly in my own direction, heedless of the need for conformity to anything other than my own true self. Taking a nudge from the angel on the subway, I am encouraged to make sure my experience of life includes creating, loving, thinking, absorbing, all adventurously. Now that is a habit I could get used to.