Suggested Song: Into the Mystic, Van Morrison
Suggested Drink: Sam Adams Summer Ale (in honor of America’s bicentennial celebration)

We settle into routines, into activity flows that, through repetition, take on a comfortable muscle memory. In the working world, a well-hewed workflow can supercharge productivity by streamlining activities, eliminating indecisive hesitations, and guiding us efficiently through objectives from project launch to finish. Baked-in life flows, too, pilot us through a day’s daily markers, from slippers on to lights off. Perfect for a repeatable, predictable existence, but resistant to change. That can be a problem when looking to shake things up.

I’m a creature of habit. My days in Aix-en-Provence stepped happily through a repeatable sequence, a Gantt chart of rise-run-shower-texts-cereal-cafe americano-emails-NYT-farmers market-cafe espresso-work-workout-lunch-nap-stroll (languidly around this postcard town)-tea-writing/music/f*cking off-stroll (equally languidly)-drinks-dinner-tv-read-sleep, … more or less in that order. My guess is that your daily routine shares some of these events, possibly in a different sequence. The upside of a set routine is the autopilot; the downside is the autopilot. Why mess with the altitude, speed, and direction when the ride is smooth and turbulence-free?

My move back to San Francisco last year killed the Aix routine. I didn’t know where to stroll or shop or stop for a drink. There was no daily farmers market. My kitchen kit and guitars and books were in cross-Atlantic transit (through Montreal for some strange reason). There was no television for evening viewing. It felt like a little hand grenade had been tossed into my cozy quotidian. Perturbing, but perfect.

This upheaval created a blue sky on which I could reimagine the routine, cut this and trim that, and rearrange the bits that survived. I bought a French press for the first time in my life, which required a learning curve and minor workflow of its own. For the late morning espresso I ventured out to one of the many cafes along Irving Avenue, as my much-loved DeLonghi had stayed in France with brother Joe. I redesigned my lunch and dinner menus around American offerings at the local grocery store and explored the Inner Sunset for solo meals (and so the hermit worm became a neighborhood butterfly). With my guitars in transit and piano gone (another addition to Joe’s France home) I concentrated on writing; a new project accelerated, as did my Postcards frequency. As to that pre-dinner-stroll-and-drink custom I so enjoyed in Provence? My English friend Ian Taylor might advise, steady as she goes old bean, don’t try anything rash. Good advice.

So why bring this up? Since moving back to San Francisco I’ve met a few people winding down careers (or cashing out early) and eager for something new and exciting. Some find the thought of a reckless dash to Provence or Tuscany seductive; arriving with suitcase in hand, a stranger in a strange land, and pondering unexplored ambitions. But what are those ambitions exactly, and how does one execute such an audacious leap? (I wrote a manual on this, actually. Click the image at right if curious.)

Later-stage life leaps can be fun to imagine but complicated to spring, and a simple, soothing life flow doesn’t provoke the pivot. The weekends with grandkids, Wednesday lunches with the besties (first bottle’s on me, girls!), the Friday book club, your favorite pew at Sunday service, the languid morning strolls. Comforting elements like these can fill the days and hold us in place.

Indeed, some (most?) of us want to hold in place.

But, … for the restless Don Quixotes of the bunch, can inhibiting routines be broken long enough to establish new habits better aligned with new bearings? Can escape velocity from life flow’s inertia be reached over an accelerated period? (Not everyone has 15 years of patience to spend in Provence and naval gaze.) A shorter ride, possibly bumpy, but revelatory? Over weeks, months?

I think yes, possibly. Perhaps it takes just long enough for a pause to transition from holiday to quasi-resident status. We all know the difference. One is a fugue state, timeless and blissfully void of obligations beyond the few must-see, must-do items to tick off and a daily taste of local drinks and cuisines. Once home, back to reality. The second requires a new routine and relationships, even if just self-assembling: shopping at a local grocery/market and cooking at the rental; mastering some survival language skills; mingling with the locals at what has becoming your new hang and weaselling a dinner invite, and daring to host at your place (now that’s a sure sign you’ve crossed the rubicon to resident status); taking a lover (for those so disposed).

Back to reality? No, your reality has changed. Onward.

Looking to reinvent your life flow? Aix-en-Provence is a fantastic candidate if considering locations for that helpful tourist-to-local transition. It’s large enough to keep you occupied, small enough to master quickly. The local french are friendly and the sizeable expat community supportive. And it’s just a stunningly beautiful town.

I’ll be back in Aix for a few weeks in July and August, then again in October. Let me know if you want to visit for some soft turbulence and need a sensei/sherpa to help with the heavy lifting.

As an aside, I’ve accepted that 15 years in France has changed my life flow, my life, and me in ways both profound and irreversible. I’ve been back in San Francisco for 6 months and loving it, but my polyurbanamorous tensions demand respect. So, I’ll be bouncing between SF and Aix regularly going forward, insha’allah.

Bill Magill
San Francisco