1.1.7    We go the same route home to Philadelphia every time. We don't have to think about it and we don't get lost. It just happens, our getting home.

1.1.8    I was driving to the dentist's office and at one stoplight intersec­tion suddenly found myself turning left rather than going straight as I should have done. Just for a moment I was able to observe my actions as they happened - my arms were turning the wheel, heading the car up the street I shouldn't have been going on. They were doing it all by themselves, completely in charge of where I was going. And they did it so fast. The car was halfway through the turn before I came to my senses, realized my mistake and decided how best I could get back on the street I was supposed to be on. At the time of the turn, I was worrying about what the dentist might have to do with my teeth. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Of course, I usually do turn at that stoplight because I have friends who live up that street and I visit them often.

1.1.9    About a month ago, my room-mate and I switched rooms. Yet when I'm not thinking about it, I'll find myself walking into my old room when in fact I really wanted to go into my new room. It doesn't register with me that I'm headed for the 'wrong' place, but then once I'm there, I'll note my mistake and direct myself to where I should be going. It makes me a bit annoyed that I do it.

1.1.10 I know where the string switches to the lights in my apartment are now. In the kitchen, even in the dark, I walk in, take a few steps, my hand reaches for the strings, pulls, and the light is on. The hand knows exactly what to do. It happens fast and effortlessly - I don't have to think about it at all.

1.1.11 We usually keep a clean dish towel under the sink, but sometimes we wash the one that's there and forget to put back a new one. I've noticed quite a few times that as I'm washing dishes I'll bend down for the towel and find it's gone - yet a few minutes later I'll bend down again for it for the towel and it's not there. It's silly and I have to laugh at myself sometimes. It just happens and it happens so fast I forget to remember that I've already looked for the towel before.

1.1.12 A few times when using the phone, I've found myself dialing my home number rather than the one I want. My thoughts will be elsewhere and my fingers automatically dial the number they know best. I guess it's because that number is the one I call the most often. I'll suddenly notice what I've done and become aware of what I'm going to dial.

1.1.13 The things I use when I'm working at my desk are all arranged just so. My envelopes and paper are in the top drawer, and things like my stapler and scissors are in the drawer below. The other day I found myself reaching for an envelope automatically - my thoughts were still on the letter I'd written, but somehow my hand had gotten the envelope on its own. I did it effortlessly and unconsciously.

 

1.2  Sometimes a day-to-day routine is so unnoticed that people can't remember their going to a place or the route they used.

 

1.2.1    I can't remember which way I go to the library. You go and you don't even know it.

1.2.2    Sometimes for an early class I'll get to the class and wonder how I got there - you do it so mechanically. You don't remember walking there. You get up and go without thinking. You know exactly where you have to go and you get there but you don't think about getting there while you're on your way.

1.2.3    you let your legs do it and don't pay any attention to where you're going.

 

1.3       Difficulties arise when a movement pattern is upset because of a change in the physical environment or because a person is forced to move in a different way.

1.3.1    I get confused in the snack bar where to pay since they've remodelled the place. I seem to automatically move forward to the spot where the cash register was last year, but now the cups and a barrier are there. I have to stop, figure out where I am, and then go to where the cash register is now - which is where the barrier used to be.

1.3.2    One of my classes was moved to a different room last week, but I forgot and found myself going to the old place. They changed the room from Jonas Clark Hall to Esterbrook Hall and all the class walked to the new room together. But the next meeting I walked to Jonas Clark, forgetting that we were now meeting in Esterbrook. Today I checked myself halfway to the old place. I had four or five classes in the old place before they changed it.

1.3.3    I was driving out of a used car lot. It's located on a one-way street, but I didn't notice. I started to turn left like I normally do when I'm going to go back the way I came. Suddenly I saw this line of cars facing me. I said to myself 'What's wrong here?', saw the problem, and quickly turned the car in the right direction.

 

1.4       Difficulties arose when members of the groups attempted the 'do-it-yourself' experiment of going to a place by another route than usual. Balking at the task or a vague uncomfortableness resulted. Sometimes the task was forgotten.

 

1.4.1    I felt I couldn't do the experiment of going a different way. One day I did go to the library a different way than I usually go, but - I don't know what it is, security or whatever - I usually go to places a certain way - I'll always do it. Like this summer to get from my house to where I worked I would cross the street at exactly the same place every day. Once in a great while I would stay on the same side of the street a while longer because I had to stop somewhere, but I'd feel uncomfort­able doing it. I don't know why, really. I kept putting the experiment off - I didn't want to do it.

1.4.2    The experiment was an inconvenience to me.

1.4.3    It didn't feel like I was going to the place I was going to.

1.4.4    It's difficult to go a different way, it feels uncomfortable. Usually from my apartment to campus I walk on a certain side of the street and today I walked on the other side of Main Street. It felt strange. When I was going to do the experiment, I got lazy. I said, 'No, this time I won't do it.' It was hard, really - just the fact that I got the directions for the experiment a few days ago, but I didn't try it until today. I've been thinking about it a lot, but it's easy to put off to the next time.

1.4.5    I found myself consistently not wanting to do this, saying 'Why bother?' I don't feel like going out of my way. It was so easy not to do it and not to go out of my way.

1.4.6    At the beginning I enjoyed the experiment. But then it changed and became difficult. I didn't know we were to do it for just one day - I tried to do it for two or three days, and I noticed that I started to fall back to the old patterns. I managed to keep up one new path for three days to a degree, but sometimes I forgot.

1.4.7    I was able to change my route a few times. It was just when I remembered to do it, otherwise I would be halfway before I'd notice it.

1.4.8    When I set out to go a different way I did it only if I took notice to go that way. Otherwise, I'd go the same old way.

1.4.9    If you're with people they won't let you do it. If you say, 'Let's go a different way,' it becomes a monumental thing. They reply, 'But this way is shorter.' it's strange how people have set patterns of doing things and if you ask them to do things differently, just for the sake of doing it differently, it upsets their patterns and they won't do it. It's just a gut reaction. It wasn't as if this kid didn't want to walk another way to see what it was like. It's just that his way was shorter, it was the to go, and there was no sense going another way because his was the shortest way.

 

1.5       Several people mentioned that they often became attached to certain regular routes.

 

1.5.1    I seem to be attached to some routes. It's not only that I just go that way usually. But if I'm riding with someone and they don't go the way I'd go, I notice myself getting a little annoyed and anxious, asking myself why this person is going the 'wrong' way.

1.5.2    If I'm riding with someone and they don't go the way I would go, I feel a little uncomfortable, and say to myself, 'Well, how come he's going this way? This way isn't the way to go. Why doesn't he take the right way?' It annoys me. Of course I eventually forget about it, but it doesn't seem right somehow when I first notice we're going a different way.

1.5.3    When I was coming back from Boston last night I noticed two places where just for a moment I felt uncomfortable because we weren't going the way I thought we should be going. I was driving, and at the exit on the pike [turnpike] where we get off at Framingham to go the rest of the way on Route 9, I felt myself not wanting to get off, but to continue on the pike. When I'm by myself I would go as far a 495 and get off there rather than use Route 9, which I despise. But the other people with me usually go Route 9, so I took their orders and went that way. Then, we were on Route 9 and I saw the sign for 495 and I wanted to get on that. I didn't because, again, the other people in the car didn't usually go that way.

 

1.6       Sense of distance is related to use; sizeable distances used regularly become reasonable distances.

 

1.6.1    I have a friend in my hometown who lives about three miles away. Last fall I started to walk over there and at first it was a long walk. After a while, however, I got to like it, and it didn't seem a long way anyway more. It got shorter and shorter.

1.6.2    Distances seem further when you think about them in your mind, but when you get to know them by going, they seem closer. Last year we were going to go to a movie at Webster Square - that's only a half mile away, yet I said, 'Wow, that's a long way to walk!' Now that I know a lot of the city because I've gone to places many times with my ice-cream truck, places like Webster Square or downtown seem closer. For instance, Main Street is familiar and friendly now - it used to be alien to me.

1.6.3    When you have to go somewhere the distance becomes manage­able. At another college I went to, the social science and biology buildings were about a third of a mile apart, and when I was a sophomore I had a class in one followed by a class in the other. At first the distance between the two buildings seemed far and I rushed to make it. But over time the trip came to seem natural, and it didn't concern me anymore. If people had to walk that distance at Clark, they'd complain at first because they're used to such shorter distances.

1.6.4    When I would visit friends at other schools I would be shocked. I had no energy to walk anywhere because of the difference in scale. At Clark, our space is so limited and I was used to a small scale. It's incredible when you visit a larger campus. You walk and you're struck by the amount of energy that people on that campus use that we don't need at all.

 

1.7       Movement to unfamiliar places requires greater attention and energy.

 

1.7.1    When you're going to a place you haven't been to before you have to be constantly awake, making sure you know where you're headed. You're constantly looking, searching out the place you want, checking your instructions for getting there. All that constant watching takes a lot of energy. Once you know how to get to a place, its much easier. You just go there without having to exert yourself or figuring out where you're going to.

1.7.2    I dislike finding my way to new places. You can't just go there, you have to be 'on your toes', figuring out if you're on the right street, if you've gone past the house you're looking for, if the house you want is on the right or left. For me it's always a nuisance getting to a new place. You're relieved once you've found it.

 

1.8       Routes are learned through active bodily repetition.

 

1.8.1    i can remember what an effort it was getting to work the first few days after I moved to where I'm living now. The trip isn't much further than from my old apartment, but it seemed further at first because most of the streets weren't familiar. I had to think about which turns to take. Now that I've been making the trip every day for weeks, I can do it even without thinking about it. It's as if the route unfolds in front of me.

1.8.2    When I worked in Washington last summer, I used to pick up a bus near where I was staying in Alexandria and take it straight to the Library of Congress. As I sat on the bus, I'd read the paper or watch the other people. One morning, a visiting friend offered to drive me to work. I couldn't reconstruct the route the bus took - I couldn't give him directions. I could only picture a few of the spots along the route, like the place I got on the bus and the bridge over the Potomac.

 

1.9       The body houses a sensitivity that manifests in gestures and movements as well as skills and activities.

 

1.9.1    Last week I was wading in a stream that had a rough rock bottom. I was observing my feet move along. They did the movement all by themselves - I didn't have to do anything. One foot would come down gingerly, feel the bed for sharpness and support. If the place was right, the foot would come down and grip, while at the same time the other foot was releasing and moving forward to find a safe spot on which it could rest. They did this action quickly, and at the same time something in me was balancing, keeping the body erect. At first my attention wasn't on the movement. Then I thought about the group and began to notice how I was moving.

1.9.2    The other day I was walking up the stairs of a new building downtown. These stairs were uncomfortable - my feet had trouble getting in time with their spacing - they just didn't feel right. I noticed them because the week before I had been to the Boston Public Library and we were walking up the stairs there to get to the art galleries. I was struck by the comfort of these stairs. My feet felt at home and moved up them easily, whereas these uncomfortable stairs were difficult to manage - they didn't fit my feet.

1.9.3    The other day I was walking down from the fifth floor of the library to the third and as I came to the fourth floor door, I almost went in, but something stopped me. I continued down to the third floor. At the point that I almost entered, I could feel my body moving ahead - all set to go in. I looked at the door sign, and said 'That's not where I want to go.' But my body wanted to do it - it was flowing on. It was only through some kind of consciousness that I could intervene and do what I wanted.

1.9.4    I went to visit a friend who has a metal shop. I asked him to make a rear spring for my car. I watched him drill a plate and then sand it. His movements were incredible - they flowed together. Both hands were working at once - it was smooth an beautiful. All the time he knew what he was doing and his hands flowed along, doing exactly what they had to do perfectly. He worked like an artist.

1.9.5    I operated an ice cream truck this past summer. On busy days I'd work as fast as I could, especially if there was another truck near mine. The more people I could serve, the more people would come to my line. As I worked, I'd get into a rhythm of getting ice cream and giving change. My actions would flow, and I'd feel good. I had about twenty kinds of ice cream in my truck. Someone would order, and automatically I would reach for the right container, make what the customer wanted, and take his money. Most of the time I didn't have to think about what I was doing. It all became routine.

1.9.6    I've noticed when I'm playing the piano that, especially with passages that I know fairly well, I play more easily when I let my hands do the playing and pay attention to the dynamics of the piece. I can remember when I was younger and took piano lessons. I would purposefully set my attention on something other than playing - I used to think about bowling - because I had noticed that the playing went more smoothly.

1.9.7    When I started working in a post office last summer, I had the hardest time putting mail into the boxes. The boxes were arranged numerical­ly, and I'd have to stop for each piece of mail, and search for the proper row and then for the particular box. I couldn't understand how the other workers could do it so quickly. After I'd been working there for a little while, the whole nature of the job changed. I found that my hands reached for the proper box. I didn't have to check the box numbers anymore. The whole process was one smooth flow. I could let my attention wander and still do the job.

 

1.10     The body has some ability to adapt creatively to new situations.

 

1.10.1 I've had to use my friend's car that is automatic shift. I had never driven an automatic before. I've noticed how quickly I adjusted to it. A few times my left foot reached for the clutch, and my hand wanted to shift, but soon they stopped and the process proceeded easily. It was as if nothing had changed.

1.10.2 My car broke down while I was home. I brought my mother's back. It's a big 1968 Chrysler and at first I wasn't sure I could drive it. It's much longer than my small car. Driving the larger car felt strange at first. I didn't know how far the sides extended. I noticed that if I didn't worry about it but let the driving happen - just hand over my hands to the wheel - they automatically knew what to do, and the driving was easier. Soon it was if I'd driven the car all my life.

 

1.11     Habitual movements and routines extend in time as well as space.

 

1.11.1 It's possible to know where my grandmother will be at any moment of the day. She is always in a particular place at a particular time and usually doing a particular thing there. Like between six and nine she'll be in the kitchen helping to cook and clean. Then from nine to about twelve she'll be on the front porch swing.

1.11.2 Unless I'm away or something special comes up, I have an early morning routine that I follow every day but Sunday. I get up at 7:30, make my bed, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, comb my hair, return to my room, take off my pajamas, dress, check pockets for money and keys, then walk up Main Street to the corner cafe. There I walk in, pick up the Times, sit down - usually in one of the booths further back - and have an order that is usually the same - one scrambled egg and coffee. Then I eat and read the paper. I like this routine. I've noticed that I'm bothered a bit when part of it is upset - for example, if the Times has been sold out or if the booths are taken and I have to sit at the counter. It's not that I figure this schedule each day - it simply unfolds and I follow it.

 

1.12     Routines happening in a supportive environment often foster a wider place dynamic.

 

1.12.1 Since I've started to work, I've found there are customers who come in fairly regularly. One woman comes in almost every night at 5:30 to buy milk, and an older man comes in at six to buy cigarettes. There are several others, and I've got to know them and say 'Hello,' since they're regular faces. I like seeing people I recognize. It helps pass the time and gives me some people to talk to.

1.12.2 One thing I've noticed about the activity in the corner cafe between eight o'clock and nine is a certain regularity. Several 'regulars' come in during that period, including the undertakers across the street, the telephone repairman and several elderly people, including one woman named Claire, whom I know and say 'Good morning' to each day. Every morning she comes in at about 7:45 after mass at the church across the street. Many of these people know each other. The owner of the place knows every one of the regulars and what they usually order. The situation of knowing other people - of knowing who's there at the time, recognizing faces that you can say hello to - somehow makes the place warmer. It creates a certain atmosphere that wouldn't be if new faces came in every day.

 

2.         Observations on Rest

 

2.1       Wherever people go, even for short lengths of time, they seem to establish centers.

 

2.1.1    When I was in New York, I organized the city around my sister's apartment. The first day I did the one thing I had planned and then didn't know what to do. I took a bus back to the apartment where I was staying. I did it without thinking. I could have done anything, but I went back there.

2.1.2    I went to Albany, New York, this past weekend. I quickly got my bearings in terms of my friend's house where I was staying and came and went in terms of it. His house became a center. It seems as soon as you go to a new place, you immediately establish a center and move around it. Even if you stay at a place for only one night, it's still a center in your mind.

2.1.3    Even for a few hours in a place you have a center. When you stop by the side of the road to eat lunch, and stay for a time resting - even there you pick a place, sit down, and then usually spend the rest of your time in terms of that place. Or when you wait in a bus station for a few hours, you get up for some candy, or go to the bathroom, or take a walk, but then, more than likely, you'll return to the same seat, which is the center around which you organize the bus station.

2.1.4    When I go shopping, especially in a place with which I'm not too familiar, I've noticed how the car becomes my focus in space and I direct my shopping in terms of it. I park the car, note its location, go do my errands, and return to the car. While I'm there, the car is a kind of center that I hold in the back of my mind.

 

2.2       The center of a person's lived-space is generally the home.

 

2.2.1    I don't move all over the earth. For periods of time the space I live in has a kind of center and that center is my home. I go to sleep there at night, I get up there in the morning. From it I leave in the morning, do my tasks during the day, and then return in the evening.

2.2.2    Space isn't all equal for me. Where I live is a unique place because I'm always leaving it and coming back. In one sense, I'm bound to that place.

 

2.3       People become attached to the home.

 

2.3.1    I'm going to move in with some friends, and I'm feeling bad about leaving my apartment. I feel attached to it and I'm going to miss it. I like the location, the windows that give so much light, and my room. It's sad, leaving.

2.3.2    When we were living in Brill House, a student-residence house before it was torn down, it gave us a lot of grief. In the end, the heating system broke, it was cold, and we were told we could have rooms in the dormitories. Yet no one moved even though we could have had free meals on the meal plan. We stayed. We'd just not go back there during the day. We'd work in the library instead. Then we'd go back, make dinner, clean up, go to sleep. We'd be cold and uncomfortable when we woke up. Yet we just had to stay there. Only when the water was turned off did we finally leave.

2.3.3    I remember when the heating system in my apartment was broken for a few days last winter. Friends invited me to stay at their houses but I didn't go. Like New Year's Eve. The friends I was with told me to stay but I couldn't think of doing it. It didn't seem right staying in their place when my apartment was just a few blocks away. It was cold in the apartment, but I wanted to be home. I remember thinking to myself how irrational I was being - that I wouldn't be comfortable and might get sick. The thoughts had no effect. I found myself returning home with no hesitation whatsoever.

2.3.4    This summer I was returning home from a long trip out west. I had planned to stop for dinner at my sister's, who lives about 150 miles from my home, and whose house is directly off the highway on which I was traveling. By the time I got to her house, it was getting late, and I was feeling the need to drive home. There was this irresistible urge to be in my own place and sleep in my own bed. I drove on and reached home around midnight.

2.3.5    I don't feel as settled into my dorm as I did living in my old apartment. I think its because all the dorm rooms are the same. It’s difficult to make any personal mark. I don't feel as comfortable there as I might if I could make the place my own. Because of the futuristic ceilings and stucco walls, there's little chance to give the room a personality.

 

2.4       The home satisfies a variety of needs.

 

2.4.1    I go there [to the apartment] to get oriented.

2.4.2    My apartment is the place where I can 'let my hair down'. I can do what I want there, not do what I don't want to do. It's my place, I'm free to be what I am there.

2.4.3    I go back there to get myself together before another class.

2.4.4    It's like when you're sick: the only place you're comfortable is in your own bed at home. If I'm sick and away from home, it's always worse than if I'm sick and at home. When you're sick you don't have the energy to pretend you're something you're not.

2.4.5    Sometimes I go back to get strength. For example, a professor had told me he wasn't satisfied with a paper I had written. I found myself walking back to my apartment just to recuperate. I didn't know what I'd do there, but I knew the apartment would help me feel better.

2.4.6    My home is where I can best be myself. It helps me get away from over-exposure.

2.4.7    Home is the place where I'm separate from the world. I can rest myself there. At home I control the disturbances that might bother me.

2.4.8    My apartment is my special place where I can do things I like and don't feel bothered or guilty. Reading quietly, sitting with a friend, playing my recorder - all these things I can do anywhere, but somehow they seem best done at home. At home I don't feel ashamed to be miserable. I can go to my room, shut the door, be as ugly as I want. I can be angry with my room-mate and it will be okay. No strings are attached to anything I do at home.

 

2.5       The house provides privacy; loss or lack of privacy may make the person uncomfortable.

 

2.5.1    I had a roommate last year who was very easy to get along with. But he was constantly in the room. It felt like the room wasn't mine because he was there so much. He would do everything possible to accommodate himself to me and I would do the same for him, but it still felt like the room wasn't mine because he was there so much.

2.5.2    Until a few months ago, I only had one room-mate. Now I have two. Before, the apartment seemed mine; I could always come back there some time during the day and have the place to myself. I could be alone and have some privacy. With the additional person, it seems like there's always someone there and I never have the place to myself. It's a relief every so often that both roommates will be away and I can have the apartment to myself.

 

2.6       Violation of home-space can create tension, even anger; rituals are often established to safeguard the sanctity of home.

 

2.6.1    A friend has been staying with us until he finds an apartment. Lately he has been entering the apartment without knocking, and I've gotten angry about it. He doesn't live there and he should knock before he comes in. He's a guest, not a resident, and he violates our privacy when he walks in like that.

2.6.2    For the past few weeks, workmen have been renovating the apartment house where I live. I've been trying to observe my reactions to them. There's a feeling of trespass: 'What are those people doing here in my building?' I find their presence annoying. I'm especially anxious when they come into the apartment - like to install a new intercom system. The whole apartment feels different - like you don't feel comfortable until they leave. It's like you can't be who you usually are at home while they're there.

2.6.3    My mother and father lock the door every night before retiring. Usually my father does it, but then mother re-checks to make sure he hasn't forgotten. My father has a regular routine. He goes to the outer porch, flips on the yard light, checks the outer thermometer, shuts off the light, locks the porch door, then comes in and locks the inner door which comes into the kitchen. Then about fifteen minutes later my mother gets ready for bed, and she checks the door, too. in the morning, my mother get up first. As soon as she's downstairs, she unlocks both doors and looks out to see what the weather is like. They've done this as long as I can remember.

 

2.7       Home may mean an atmosphere of warmth.

 

2.7.1    When you're in a house that hasn't been lived in for a long time, there's a feeling of coldness. It takes time to make the house seem vital again.

2.7.2    We moved to an apartment in New York City that hadn't been lived in for a long time. I didn't want to live there because it felt cold and unused. Once we had cleaned and fixed it up, it felt better.

2.7.3    I notice a different feeling in houses - whether the house has just been emptied or whether it has been vacated for a long time. There's a definite feeling, a lack of energy in a place where no people have lived for a long time. It feels like a ghost town.

2.7.4    In Baltimore, I was living in a row house that looked like all the other houses on the street. Our house looked as if no one cared for it - it was a mess. There was a young kid who lived next door with his parents. He would come over and visit us. We went over to his house once, and there was such a difference. There was a since of caring - the place looked nice. Someone had taken pains with it. It was decorated with family pictures and things from trips. I liked the house. It had a warm feeling, I felt very good being in it.

2.7.5    My parent's house has several rooms which are rarely used, for example, the formal dining room. No one goes in it except when there's company. You walk in and the room feels cold - I don't like it there.

2.7.6    I have vivid memories of the living room in my grandfather's house. It wasn't fancy or new, but all old things worn and well used were in it. It had a quality of warmness. There was a stuffed deer's head over the mantle, and I remember one time lying on the rug by the fireplace looking up at it. I remember feeling warm and happy, snug and secure.

2.7.7    I remember working for the Census Bureau in Albany, New York. One day I went to an especially dingy house. I expected to find a dingy apartment, but instead I walked into a place that felt warm. A divorcee lived there with her two children. The place felt so much like a home. It was decorated in light blue and was clean and ordered and cared for. It felt warm and cozy. I almost wished I was a child living there - it felt so supportive. The place felt so much like a home.

 

2.8       The body houses a knowledge of the home.

 

2.8.1    I was on my way out of the Geography building, planning to go to the post office and then to the corner cafe for breakfast. As I was leaving, someone told me that the reserve readings I had supposedly put on reserve were not there. Immediately, I began thinking up all sorts of reasons as to why the 'shiftless' library staff had not done their job. Suddenly I found myself walking up the stairs to my apartment, which is right across the way from the Geography building.

2.8.2    Yesterday I helped a friend take a heavy trunk down to the bus station to be shipped. On the way back, we were having a lively conservation and suddenly I said, 'How dumb! Here I am driving us back to my house when I have to take you home.' He said, 'Yeah, I was wondering where you were going.' He lives in a direction completely opposite to my house.

 

2.9       Routines are associated with the home.

 

2.9.1    On working days, my father follows the same routine each morning. He automatically gets up at 7 o'clock - he doesn't need an alarm. H he puts on some old clothes, goes to the bathroom, then picks up the morning newspaper from the front stoop. He puts two sausages in a pan over low flame. They'll be ready to eat at 8:15. While they cook, he reads the paper, always sitting in the same chair. He slouches. Just before the sausages are done, he soft boils an egg; he doesn't even wash the pan but uses the same water day after day. He puts a piece of rye bread in the toaster and pours a glass of orange juice. After breakfast - he calls it his 'three-minute breakfast' because that's how long it takes him to eat it - he puts the dishes in the dishwasher, shaves, bathes, dresses, and leaves the house at 8:50 sharp.

2.9.2    My brother routinizes the things he does at home. For example, he has a dinner routine. He gets home a little after 6:30, puts his briefcase in the dining room, goes upstairs to change his clothes. Then he makes his dinner - a salad, a bowl of either canned ravioli or spaghetti; he says he doesn't want to make a choice of menu every day. He eats in front of the seven o'clock news on television.

 

2.10     Social harmony can be an important component of the feelings of home.

 

2.10.1 When we moved into our apartment, some sub-letters were living with us, but they weren't friends. They were just helping to pay the rent. When you went home it felt like an apartment, it didn't feel much like a home. As soon as our friends moved in, the place changed. It's nice now. Even when I return and nobody's home, there's a good aura about the place. We all get along really fine, we eat dinner together every night, and it's just like home, it really is. You look forward to eating together. It seems like we've developed a family feeling.

2.10.2 I definitely noticed that in the time I was living with some people I didn't get along with, there was no energy to spend in new activities. One of the reasons I had come back to school was to grow as a person, to try out new things. The uncomfortable apartment situation made me depressed - it upset me inwardly. I had no wish to get involved in anything - just the minimal to keep me going. After the move, when I felt more comfortable again, I had more energy. I was settled and I could give myself to new things. I got involved in a pottery course and began giving volunteer help in a nursing home. I felt that I could involve myself in new things because I felt more free inside.

 

2.11     A lack of center may generate distress.

 

2.11.1 Until a few weeks ago, I was living in an apartment that didn't feel like home. My room-mates were hostile, and I was uncomfortable about being there, about going back there. The place had no drawing power. I felt disoriented because I didn't have a center anywhere.

2.11.2  Most of the time when I'm traveling, I'm traveling to a place, and I know I'm going to a place. But when I travel for a long time and go quickly from one place to another, I find that it can be disturbing, because you don't know exactly where you're going to be.

 

2.12     The guest-host relationship has bearing on the nature of home.

 

2.12.1 It's uncomfortable entering a stranger's house because you feel passive and unsure. You don't know where to go, where to sit. You jut stand there, look and wait for someone to tell you what to do. It always feels good when your host welcomes you, takes your coat, sits you down, puts you at ease.

2.12.2 I find that most college students are terrible hosts. They seem to expect that you should walk right in, make yourself at home, feel one hundred per cent comfortable. Sometimes people have even left me alone, or left me with people I barely know. I always feel uncomfortable, I feel at a loss, wishing my host would be more of a host.

 

2.13     There are centers within a home.

 

2.13.1 My family always sits in the same seats at the dinner table. We brought a round table for our house and it seems that it would be easy to frequently switch chairs, to sit wherever you wanted just because the table is round. But after a while, everyone settled down in his 'own' chair. I remember wanting to sit somewhere else for a change, but everyone else put up such a big fight that I never could. It's the same for classrooms; if professors assigned seats everyone would 'flip out', but lots of times people end up sitting in the same chair every time anyway.

2.13.2 My father has a seat in the living room and the moment he walks in, the person in his seat will say, 'Hey Dad, do you want your seat?'

2.13.3 When I go home, I always automatically grab the chair I used when I was a kid. I pick it up and drag it across the floor to my old spot at the table. But my mother likes me to sit on the other side of the table where my sister used to sit because I'm less in the way over there. So, almost every time, I'll be pulling the chair over and Mom will say, 'Oh, are you going to sit on that side of the table?' And then I'll remember, put the chair back, and go to the other side. I still don't feel comfortable on that side, but my Mom likes me there, so I do it.

2.13.4 My desk and the big rocking chair I got from the Salvation Army are the two places where I usually am when I'm in my room. I feel attached to both of them, especially the chair which faces out the window and has an attractive stand-up lamp behind it. I like to read rocking in that chair before I go to bed at night. These are the two places I naturally go to when I walk in my room and I want to sit down.

2.13.5 I always find something not quite right about sitting on someone else's bed unless they definitely say, 'Sit down.'

2.13.6 A good friend of mine was sick in bed today and I sat down naturally next to her. We were talking and just for a moment I thought, 'I'm sitting on her bed - I shouldn't be.'

2.13.7 I didn't have a desk in my room last year and I never had a place to study here. This year, the first thing I did was to make a desk, and it makes a world of difference. I know where I can study now.

2.13.8 While I was home, I noticed how much time my family spends in the kitchen. All important discussions go on there. It's the same in my apartment - we spend hours around the table talking. If you go out for a while, you're drawn back.

2.13.9 It's getting colder in my apartment and we're all gravitating to the kitchen. There's a heater in the living room too, but we never sit there. For one thing, there's no table there. The kitchen is the most important room. We did most of the fixing up in the kitchen and all our plants are there. The room has an atmosphere of friendliness and cheerfulness.

 

2.14     There are important centers outside the home.

 

2.14.1 The luncheonette is a kind of center for me. It's a good feeling walking in there.

2.14.2 I like the pizza parlor down the street. They have good food, I can sit down there and feel comfortable. People get loyal to that place. I had a friend who was driving across the country and he had to have breakfast there before he set out.

2.14.3 The crafts center is a very special place for me. A magnetic force draws me there. It seems like I can't get away from campus without going there.

2.14.4 The bakery on Main Street seems near to me - we go there often to buy bread. The people are friendly there.

2.14.5 The nearby park has come to mean a lot to me. I'd feel sad if anything happened to it. I go there for walks to clear my head. I have a definite route I go: to the left of the pond, up the hill to the old stump, then back on the other side of the pond. I go to the same old stump, stop there for a while, sometimes sit down, relax. I feel close to the park. It helps me to get away from the university.

2.14.6 The park across the street from my apartment has become a special place for me. There's enough space there to get away from the city - to be with the trees and the green grass. I like to be there by myself and sit quietly.

2.14.7 I spend a lot of time in my office these days. It offers a good blend of privacy and social contact. Sometimes my office-mates are there, other people come in, and we have a good conversation. At other times I have the place to myself and get my work done. I wouldn't think of working elsewhere. I feel close to it.

2.14.8 At school, my favorite place is my desk - it seems to be the center of what I do.

 

2.15     The body houses a knowledge of these centers.

 

2.15.1 Coming from my office, which I use a lot, I stopped at the bathroom as I was on my way to a downstairs from to get a map. In the bathroom I was thinking about a class that I had to prepare for and I walked out in deep thought, heading for my office. About half-way there I remembered I hadn't gone to the room I had intended to go to. There was a sudden moment of remembering, a quick bit of annoyance. I turned around, went to get the map.

2.15.2 Since they've moved the snack bar to its new location, I feel a little uncomfortable when I go there. It seems wrong walking to the new place when in the past I've gone to the old location. I still go, but it seems strange. It will take some time to get used to it.

 

2.16     Many things used in day-to-day living have a resting place.

 

2.16.1 When I to go to bed, I put my glasses in a definite place. I keep them on my desk right above my head. When I get up I put them on automatically. I'd never think of changing their place.

2.16.2 I always keep change, keys and pens in my right pocket and tissues in my left. When my right pocket gets a hole in it, I have to change things to the left. Then I never know where to look.

2.16.3 I have specific places in my pocket book for certain things. In the pouch in front I have pencils and pens. Inside is a zipper case where I put my keys.

2.16.4 I have a general area in my room where I put my glasses and notebooks. I find them there when I need them. If I haven't put these things there, I'll often forget them.

2.16.5 My desk top has a series of places where I keep things. Scrap paper is always on the left side, pens and pencils in the upper left part, and books on the right.

 

2.17     The body houses a knowledge of these places.

 

2.17.1 My mother knows the exact location of everything in our house. She has a place for everything. She doesn't have to figure out where a particular thing is - she goes to it automatically. I'll need some string, for example, and she'll go immediately to the right drawer. I'd have to check a few places before I'd find it - if I did then.

2.17.2 Because of the group, I've come to be more consciously aware of how important places are to me in the kitchen. All the things I use have definite places - even the spices in my spice rack. When I'm preparing a meal, I can quickly locate ingredients and utensils without having to think about it at all. Everything is at hand and ready for use.

 

2.18     New places often conflict with old patterns.

 

2.18.1 When I was younger, we had a clock in our kitchen which was in the same place for six or seven years. It was always above the refrigerator. We moved the clock to the stove. I remember that for maybe three years thereafter, I would sometimes do a 'double-take' in terms of that clock. I'd look up at the wall to get the time and the clock wouldn't be there. The clock had a new location and still everyone would look for it in the old place.

2.18.2 My father washed the dining room rug and he had to move the table. usually it's located directly under the chandelier, but when he moved it back it wasn't quite centered. We were eating dinner and family members began to notice the change. We had to get up and move it to its proper place. My mother noticed it first, but everyone was bothered about it.

2.18.3 Last night I went to use the typewriter in my office. Someone had turned the typing table around so that the typewriter was facing in a different direction. I started typing but it didn't feel right and I turned it back around.

 

2.19     The do-it-yourself experiment of moving things to a different place points to the role of habit in establishing order.

 

2.19.1 I decided to switch the utensil and silverware drawers around this past week. We asked our other roommates if it was okay and they agreed. Throughout the week, people mentioned the change frequently. Someone would go to a drawer, open it, realize it was now the wrong one, then go to the other drawer. It got to the point where we could just walk to the place where it used to be, remember the change, and go to the other drawer. When I went to the drawer - usually it was for silverware - my mistake wasn't exactly frustrating - it was like we were doing it as a game and so we'd talk about it. I remember people saying, 'Ah, I've done it again!'

2.19.2 I moved my towel to a new place in the bathroom. I'd enter and say, 'I'm not going to let myself fall for the change.' But one day I walked in and was upset and had something on my mind. I walked up to where the towels used to be and I said, 'Oh, no, I've forgotten!'

2.19.3 In doing the experiment, I decided to move my trash can, which has been in the same place by my desk for two years. It was hard for me to move it - there was this feeling of inertia.

 

2.20     People may feel a sense of inertia when they consider changing the place of something.

 

2.20.1 I was thinking about changing the furniture around. No matter how illogically a room is arranged, no matter how much sense it would make to change it, I always hesitate to rearrange things. I don't like to do it, there's this drawback feeling that I want to keep it as it is.

2.20.2 I wouldn't want to reorganize my desk, even though it's not arranged in the best way. It would be awkward if it were different.

 

2.21     People often establish a parking place for their automobile; if they don't, problems may arise.

 

2.21.1 I sometimes put my car elsewhere than its usual parking place. Later, I'll forget the change and for a minute think the car has been stolen.

2.21.2 I've forgotten several times this past semester where I parked my car. I find myself stopping at the first empty place that looks convenient and parking there. When I go out to find it at the end of the day, I can't remember where I've parked. As I look for it, I find myself thinking, 'Where did I park this morning?' Often this logical approach doesn't work and I just have to go around and look. It's ridiculous and annoying at the same time. For the sake of convenience, I'm beginning to establish a parking place.

 

2.22     Deciding on a place for a thing may sometimes be difficult.

 

2.22.1 I remember when I was about ten or eleven, our family decided to buy a tool house that you could assemble yourself. An argument arose between my mother and father as to where we should put it. My father wanted it by the road so we could get to it easily in the winter time when there was a lot of snow, but my mother said, 'No, it would look ugly there.' Finally, they agreed that we'd put it at the side of the house.

2.22.2 When my brother got back from Vietnam, he wanted to plant a tree at my family's house. My whole family ended up getting involved with the planting - we took it very seriously. My father thought it should go in the back yard near a tree that he had planted when he first bought the lot 25 years ago. My brother was insistent that it should go in the middle of the front yard, where it would get the most sun and root space, and where it would stand out. In the end my brother got his way, although he planted it a bit closer to the side of the yard than he had wanted to at first.

 

3.         Observations on Encounter

 

3.1       Encounter with the world fluctuates and varies in intensity.

 

3.1.1    It seems that I'm always encountering the world differently. It's almost as if there's not one world in which I live, but many. Some days I don't notice a thing - there seem to be plenty of days like that. Other days seem fresh. I don't know what it is but sometimes I'm very close to the world around me and other times distant and non-alert.

3.1.2    It's strange how the world is for me. At times I know I'm not seeing anything. I'm so caught up with my own self inside that the world has no chance to penetrate. Sunday morning, for example, I went for a walk down Main Street. the trees seemed so beautiful and alive. I hadn't seen them that way in a long time. I was feeling good - in a calm and quiet mood. I happened to meet my old girl friend who said something that really hurt me. I kept walking but now the walk was completely different. I was full of anger and didn't notice a thing. It was like a barrier had been put up. My anger and bad thoughts blocked out the possibility of seeing the way I had a few minutes before.

 

3.2       Much of the time people are oblivious to the external world.

 

3.2.1    I was walking down a hallway and it took me the longest time to recognize that someone was walking in front of me. I wasn't conscious of his presence, and it surprised me when I noticed him that I hadn't seen him before I did. He was there in front of me several seconds, yet it took a bit of time before I consciously realized he was there.

3.2.2    I was in a rush to get here and walked by a friend who was going in the opposite direction. He called or else I wouldn't have seen him.

3.2.3    When I was coming back from home on the bus I was tired. When we got on the turnpike I wasn't sure if we were going to Worchester next or Lowell. I said to myself, I'll pay attention to make sure the bus's next stop is Worcester. I don't want to end up in the wrong place.' I forgot, however, and the next thing I knew we were pulling into the Worcester bus station.

3.2.4    We were driving back from vacation on the turnpike and someone said, 'Did we pass the Worcester exit yet?' We had. It was our turn-off, yet everyone else had forgotten to look for it.

 

3.3       In moments of obliviousness, people are engaged inwardly, with thoughts, worries, reveries or bodily discomfort.

 

3.2.1    I'm always running around, thinking about what I have to do next. As I go I'm thinking about what I just did or where I'm going. In times like these I don't notice many things around me.

3.2.2    When I was driving back to Worchester after intersession, I was caught up with thoughts about the week ahead. I was so busy planning out the days ahead that I drove past my exit.

3.3.3    Much of the time this past week I found myself thinking about my problems. There was a lot on my mind and I didn't notice things very often.

3.3.4    I know when I'm not feeling well physically I just look at the ground and try to get where I have to go. There's no energy left to notice things. Being sick 'puts the damper on'.

3.3.5    I often take a walk in the park, but not because I like the pleasant surroundings. It's more because my thinking often improves when I walk. I can figure things out better or work out problems that are bothering me.

 

3.4       Obliviousness to the world may extend to tasks or pastimes in which the person is engaged at the moment.

 

3.4.1    When I house-clean I have a routine. One day I was vacuuming, however, and there was one corner which I wasn't sure I had done. I vacuumed it again. In housekeeping it's so easy to 'go off in a daze.'

3.4.2    I've had the problem sometimes of not being able to remember actions that involve repetition. I have to ask myself, 'Have I put enough cans of water in the orange concentrate?' 'Have I added the right amount of water to my two cups of rice?'

 

3.5       At times people consciously seek to withdraw themselves from the task at hand.

 

3.5.1    Often when I'm doing something that doesn't require attention - like driving or cleaning - I'll sing to pass the time. Last night I was singing as I was cleaning the dishes, and a friend who was visiting asked why. I said, 'Well, you've got to do something to take your attention off washing up.'

3.5.2    When I'm working at my job as dishwasher I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. It's easier to daydream or think about what I'll do after work. There isn't very much about the job that holds my attention.

 

3.6       Even in obliviousness, some part of the person is in contact with the world.

 

3.6.1    Last week I was walking from my dormitory to the library, lost in thought, making plans for my parents' visit the coming weekend and where we might go for dinner. Just for a few seconds, I was able to watch myself walking up the hill, avoiding puddles that had formed because of the rain we had last week. Something in me was watching the water puddles and guiding me around them. Even though I wasn't consciously aware of each puddle, something in my eyes and feet were working together. I'd see a puddle ahead and my feet would instantly hop over it or go around. All of this was happening as I was immersed in my thoughts. I didn't do a thing; it happened automatical­ly.

3.6.2    Last night I was driving back from Boston, and I was thinking about what I was going to do today - about an appointment I had with a professor and what I was going to tell him about my research paper. I suddenly noticed that I was passing another car. I had done the action without any thought - some part of me was noticing and coordinating the road with the movement required to pass. I hadn't consciously decided to pass the car - I was oblivious to driving. Somehow my eyes and my hands on the wheel and my feet on the pedals were taking me safely through the passing maneuvers.

 

3.7       Obliviousness to the world may be so complete that an accident results.

 

3.7.1    I remember once last fall I was walking along Main Street to my apartment, caught up in a decision I had to make about what I would do this semester. I was 'in a fog', listening to all sorts of arguments in my head. I didn't notice the 'No Parking' sign on the edge of the sidewalk, and it caught my shoulder as I walked by. I jarred myself but was surprised more than hurt. It was an unexpected intrusion on my thoughts, a jolt from another world.

3.7.2    Last week I was working my job at food service. I had asked my manager for the next day off, but he refused. I was angry, talking to myself and justifying why I should have time off. suddenly I heard a large crunch. I had forgotten to keep track of dirty dishes going through the washer. They'd taken up all the available space and wedged together.

 

3.8       Sometimes people watch the world.

 

3.8.1    I was sitting on the lawn in front of my dormitory last Tuesday afternoon, watching people, seeing who was going where. I wasn't watching anything or anyone in particular - just looking. It's relaxing. I must have sat there an hour or more, taking in the atmosphere. I'm not saying I was watching the scene the whole time. Sometimes I'd look 'into myself', thinking about things or worrying about school work I should be doing. It was a mixture - lost in thought for a while, then noticing something, on and on.

3.8.2    The other day I was in the park, sitting on a bench, watching the ducks on the pond. they first caught my attention because of the noise and motion they were making. I sat there for about ten minutes, watching, seeing what they were doing. It was like watching a movie - they were interesting to watch. Then my attention waned and I left.

3.8.3    Last Sunday I went to the stock-car races and it was one of the most exciting shows I've seen in quite a while. There were three racers scrambling for the lead, no one car had a clear edge. I got really involved - standing, jumping, shouting encouragement. Everyone in the grandstands was up and screaming and waving. It was an exhilarating experience. It was like tumbling back to another world when the race ended.

 

3.9       People don't necessarily notice the same things.

 

3.9.1    I was driving with a friend. We went under a bridge on the top of which was a device that measures the speed of cars going under. I said, 'Oh, I'm going seventy-two miles per hour!' 'What made you say that so suddenly?' asked my friend. 'Didn't you see the electric sign?' I said. He hadn't seen it at all even though the sign was large and visible.

3.9.2    I was driving with a friend yesterday and a car pulled out in front of us. I thought it was an ugly color and said, 'Ugh, look!' 'What's the matter?' he replied. He hadn't even noticed it.

 

3.10     Things unnoticed my suddenly be noticed.

 

3.10.1 I was walking from the drug store with a friend. We walked by an alley that I'd never noticed before. It was something I had never seen, yet I had passed that place many times. I don't know what caused me to notice it.

3.10.2 I was looking down a row of chairs in the library. I noticed that the corners of the two chairs directly in front of me were frayed. I was trying to read at the time. I don't know what drew my attention to them.

 

3.11     Things that are surprising or incongruous may foster noticing.

 

3.11.1 This summer when I was in Minnesota camping, we spent all morning one day going up a creek. Suddenly, around midday, we came upon this huge machine right in the middle of the stream. We had no idea what it was. We'd gone through a lot of interesting territory but hadn't noticed much. When we got to this machine, however, it stopped us. It seemed out of place and took our attention.

3.11.2 I notice things different than usual - like rain. Most of the time I don't notice what the weather is like, but on a rainy day you can't help but notice.

3.11.3 I noticed the water level on the pond in the park. Usually it's not so low.

3.11.4 I notice when I cross into Delaware - the road's surface and color is quite different from that of New Jersey's.

3.11.5 Yesterday I was driving and I looked in my rear-view mirror. I looked again. The car behind me was without a hood.

 

3.12     Things of beauty or unattractiveness may evoke noticing.

 

3.12.1 I was walking to class. All of a sudden my eye caught a sparkle of light. I looked up and was surprised to see how pretty the light from the snow-covered trees was.

3.12.2 On the way to Washington, D.C., everyone in the car noticed a field of pumpkins. There were rows and rows of them in the field. They looked beautiful, resting there in the field.

3.12.3 I always notice the bank building on the corner when I'm walking. It's round and hideously designed and it catches my eye because its so different.

 

3.13     Things in which people have a personal stake or interest may evoke noticing.

 

3.13.1 I was in a class last year that studied utilities distributed through wires. Now I notice quite often if telephone and electric wires are overhead in a place, the types of poles used, their age, the aesthetics of construction - things like that.

3.13.2 I never used to notice colored shadows - in fact I never knew they existed. Yet because of a course I took that spent time studying them, I've become aware of colored shadows and look for them when I think of them. I notice them often now, especially in the streets at night. The best thing is the more I notice colored shadows, the more I look for them. At first, I was aware of them only rarely, but now I notice them quite often. It's not that I walk down the street saying to myself, 'Okay, its time for you to be conscious of colored shadows.' Rather, the thought of them will suddenly 'pop into my mind', something in me will look, and maybe I spot one. Or sometimes I'll be walking along 'in a daze' and suddenly I notice one. They jump out at me - I don't make any active effort to see them. It's as if they show themselves to me and I don't do a thing but respond to them.

 

3.14     Sometimes people don't notice the world until it has become something different.

 

3.14.1 I was walking to the store to get milk on Saturday. The street seemed different. Suddenly I noticed the reason: someone had cut down a large tree. I hadn't really noticed the tree while it was there, but now that it was gone, the scene felt different.

3.14.2 The other day I walked into a professor's office which I hadn't been in for a while. Something about it felt different but I couldn't tell what at first. I suddenly noticed that the difference was due to the blackboard: it was clean for a change! Usually it's chalky black.

 

3.15     Mood and energy level affect noticing.

 

3.15.1 I had a good talk with a professor and I was feeling happy because of it. I took a walk over by the pond. It seemed I was noticing a lot because I was feeling so good. The ducks on the pond, the colors reflected in the water, the trees - I was very much aware of them. I was noticing more around me than I usually do.

3.15.2 I developed some negatives I had taken last week in my photography class this morning. They came out so well and I was encouraged. I felt happy and it gave me so much energy that I spent the entire afternoon taking more pictures. I had a good time; it was one of the best picture-taking sessions I've ever had. I felt a part of the things I was taking pictures of. I was notic