23 An Exercise in Abstinence

I once read an article that suggested changing our wardrobe as a means of reinventing ourselves. Immediately, I saw the value of this concept. The attire in which we face the world forms a significant part of our self-image; changing the details of what we see in the mirror changes our self-image, setting in motion a cascade of consequences. Furthermore, in addition to how we see ourselves, our clothes are most of the appearance by which other people form their first impressions of us. Changing the way people see us will inevitably result in changing the way they treat us and what they expect from us. Can you say reinventing? And isn’t that what becoming an expat is all about?

“I am on a diet.” Thus announced James Beard, the famous “Dean of American Cooking”, in one of his weekly articles. He went on to say, “To someone who has spent more than seventy years eating as he pleased and where he pleased, Prohibition has come as a shock.” No longer would he load his foods with the cream, butter, cheeses, sauces, fats, and oils he loved and which gave him so much pleasure. Now, greatly overweight and suffering from serious health problems, his doctors gave him strict orders for what he could and could not eat. But James Beard had the right attitude. Instead of lamenting about his restrictions, he began exploring a number of low-fat, low-salt alternatives, substituting herb- and spice-based seasonings for his usual embellishments. (There was a happy ending. By changing his eating habits and establishing new, healthier patterns, he continued to enjoy and write about foods for many more years.)

One of the greatest benefits of becoming an expat is the inherent self-examination. Properly utilized, a genuine, comprehensive review of our routines and expectations can result in some major, positive changes in our life. These can include consciously choosing new behaviors, rather than simply continuing what we may have been doing all our adult lives without ever considering the possibility of changing. Becoming an expat requires, by definition, a change in lifestyle. Why not let it be an opportunity to carefully examine and thoughtfully select the big and little details of your new lifestyle?

From my own experiences, let me offer an example of the consequences of altering our self-image by altering even the smallest parts of our daily routines. As an expat, I once did something that was comparable in its impact to Beard’s diet paradigm shift. Specifically, I gave up coffee for thirty days. Granted, this may sound like a very small change but, for me, it was definitely not minor. Let me explain. Beginning each day with several cups of coffee has been a daily pleasure all of my adult life. I cannot even remember when it began. In a typical year, there may have been only two or three days when, due to unusual circumstances, I did not begin my day with coffee. Starting each morning with several cups of hot coffee has been one of the few constants in a life which has seen considerable changes over the decades. Indeed, I devoted lengthy passages in my memoir China Bound to discussing this change in my routine after I arrived as a foreign teacher. For a period of a few weeks, I had no morning coffee to transition me into wakefulness with a caffeine jolt. I even described the elation I felt when, two months after I arrived, a package arrived from America with whole coffee beans, coffee filters, and other implements for making drip coffee.

Looking back, I can see that beginning the day with coffee has been a morning ritual for many years. Perhaps the keyword to examine is “ritual”; I went through the same motions in the same order to get the same results each time. I had a smooth, unvarying early-morning routine. When I awoke, the first step was to immediately make coffee. I wanted real coffee, drip coffee, freshly made according to my preferences. After making the coffee, another important element of my morning ritual was to then sit quietly, sipping the coffee and relishing the beginning of a new day. Sometimes, I would read and think; sometimes, I would enjoy the coffee while I was writing or planning my day; sometimes, I merely looked out my window and watched the world wake up.

In the past, when I was single, I would often take my coffee and go outside to sit on the balcony, weather permitting. An early-morning balcony is a suitable time and place to reflect on your life or on the current objectives you want to pursue - or, if you are so inclined, to catch up on your regrets. Currently, with two roommates (wife and young son) who jealously cherish every last moment of sleep, discretion calls for me to stay in my den office with the door closed and to remain as soundless as possible while they sleep those precious extra minutes. They enjoy their sleep while I enjoy my coffee as a solitary pleasure.

Early each morning, as I quietly perform my daily ritual of boiling water, preparing the filter, measuring the coffee grounds, and watching the hot water dripping through the grounds to make that marvelous, life-restoring elixir, I am doing more than merely starting a new day. I am adding to a long, long string of days – some good, some not-so-good – that began similarly. The common thread was the morning coffee, that initial burst of caffeine’s chemical sunshine. Thus, as all of those days cumulatively formed the person I have become, coffee was a foundation of the lifestyle I enjoy today. Over the years, the balconies and the cities they looked over changed but those daily cups of early-morning coffee were a constant, comforting ritual.

Similarly, my favorite coffee cup, another artifact of my old life, was also filled with good memories and associations. That coffee cup was important enough to warrant careful packing in my already overstuffed suitcases for that long overseas flight. It always makes me smile when I remember the people and places linked to that cup. That marvelous coffee aroma in my favorite cup, so soothing yet tantalizing, connected me to other days and other cups of coffee – and to the homes, friends, jobs, relationships, cars, pets, and hobbies from the times and places when I was enjoying those former cups of coffee.

So… after I have just explained why my morning coffee was such a cherished ritual, why did I decide to give up my morning coffee for thirty days? The reason was simple enough. Although I had no health issues that coffee might affect and I was not drinking excessive amounts of coffee each day, I decided that it has become too much of a habit - and that was precisely the point. My comfortable ritual had become an intractable habit.

Periodically, we need to review our lifestyle choices and, in doing so, to consider what other options and activities we might be sacrificing because of our current routines. Specifically, I wanted to consider if my time spent sipping coffee might be better spent on other things. What unknown consequences came from my daily coffee ritual? Economists call it the opportunity cost. But this exploration isn’t just a mental exercise; it requires a physical action to make it meaningful.

It also requires time. We can easily make a change for one day, or even two or three. But that is like taking a long weekend away from a full-time job we hate. The awareness that we will be returning to the job shortly colors all our sensations of the moment. It takes time to change a routine like my coffee in the early morning, time to become aware that the messages from our body have changed. That was exactly the objective of my 30-day exercise in abstinence. This was not about self-discipline or sacrifice. It was to become conscious of how much an outside, artificial factor was affecting me. In a very minor way, it was to revert to a simpler life, like one of our primitive ancestors, including starting his day without coffee. This was how our remote hunter/gatherer forefathers lived before they developed civilization which, ultimately, brought them morning coffee and other rituals. I didn’t want to give up morning coffee forever; I just wanted to know how it felt to live without it.

Additionally, there was the satisfaction of proving that I still retained sufficient control of my life that I could voluntarily give up an established habit – even one that was a cherished relic from my pre-expat life. In this exercise in abstinence, I wanted to prove to myself that coffee was still a choice and a pleasure, not a rigid habit. In doing so, I wanted to confirm that I could still choose new directions, large and small, for my life. I wanted to show that I still control my life. Morning coffee is not important; controlling my life is. As an expat, you will become aware of some old routines that may not transfer well to your new life. Some will be glaringly obvious. Others, like my morning coffee, require time to rise to our conscious attention. These opportunities for self-examination are everywhere and are an immensely valuable benefit of becoming an expat.

When I resumed my morning coffee after thirty days of being coffee-free, I began to really, truly enjoy it again. Boy, did that coffee taste good on those crisp, cool mornings! This pleasure was again enhanced by the recollection of other crisp, cool mornings in other places and times. I relished the coffee flavor and caffeine jolt even more because of their absence for one month and because it was, once again, a choice.

This may seem a rather trivial subject; it is not. Giving up our morning coffee for thirty days is not a big deal. What is a very big deal, however, is the ability to control our habits, even the tiny little habits like the daily ritual of morning coffee. But – and this is the critical part – this self-determination must be proven with action, not merely words. Then, by extension, if we can do this with our morning coffee, we can do it with other habits as well – bigger and more important habits and daily routines. In those 30 days, while examining the habits we temporarily suspend, we can also consider what other things we might do with that time – the opportunity costs.

Especially for an expat, your life will be replete with such opportunities. What entrenched habit would you choose to give up for thirty days to prove that you are still in control of your habits – and your life? Finally, to get really metaphysical about it, you can even begin to dissect some of your habitual ways of thinking, not just your actions. “Heavy,” as our friend Marty McFly of Back to the Future would say. (Hmm. Would his time travel qualify Marty as an expat?)