Most Saturdays, at about 7:30 am, I can be found in one of Moscow's wonderful bakeries. I usually get myself a sausage croissant or an everything bagel with cream cheese and read for a while before heading over to one of the cafes or to the public library.The next few hours I spent either reading or writing. Of course, a mug of coffee is never too far away from me.
There are few things I look forward to more than this ritual--all by myself--that I try to undertake at least once every week. At the end of those few hours, I feel rejuvenated, as if I have physically removed cobwebs of exhaustion, unnecessary conversations and arguments and the clutter of every life.
When I am at Wheatberries, every Saturday morning, a group of about eight septuagenarians comes in and they join two table together to sit down for some food, coffee and conversation. I overhear their stray sentences every now and then. One of them will reminisce about an event that took place forty years ago, another will chime in to remind him that something similar happened just yesterday with someone else. I always listen to them and think how wonderful it must be to grow old with friends you have had and known for so many years. What an accomplishment, what a true gift!
Now please tell me your rituals.