"As beautiful as simplicity is, it can become a tradition that stands in the way of exploration." -Laura Nyro

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my family's Thanksgiving tradition, one that we have been enjoying for about ten years now. Despite my having posted the article hours before our get-together, my description was exceptionally accurate (Magic 8-ball App. Download it). What in actuality was a prediction was accurate because that is the nature of tradition. As much as we might look forward to those typically annual occurrences in our life, no matter how conventionally happy they might make us feel, the element of surprise and unexpectedness is notably absent. And as someone who goes out of her way to establish routine in her life, I am almost shocked at myself as I type this post.

After I started college, my social life with regards to family friends "back home" became depressingly reliant upon the calendar. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Birthday, maybe. Spontaneous social events were a privilege I gave up when I opted for geographical distance. And with that, our friendship became increasingly predictable. At each gathering, we would pick up where things had been left off and fall out of touch in the intermediary.

In my life so far, my most memorable moments have been the ones that were completely unexpected. What made them "once-in-a-lifetime" was much more their random nature and much less the hype around them. The traditional events now bring along their "been there, done that" baggage.

Yesterday, my family participated (or rather, competed) in an organized game of Bocce Ball, alongside the same group with which we enjoy our annual Thanksgiving celebration. To me, though, even with the exact same company, this event was significantly more fun (which I can state at 95% confidence). Together, we entered the courts not knowing what to expect (my philosophical side), not knowing who to fear and whom to taunt (my competitive side). Not knowing how to feel. Untainted, not-(yet-)jaded blank slates.

When Thanksgiving dinner was over, it was over. Ready to move on to their Black Friday shopping, 'Til next years were exchanged as people scrambled out the door. But yesterday, not knowing when another such opportunity (scheduling, more than anything -- we're busy families!) would present itself, people were reluctant to let go of the night. The group traveled as a pack from the courts to a restaurant to our home. Today's back-and-forth group email thread only confirms the extent of the fun which was had by all (hey, that's how you measure anything this day in age).

In my pre-teen years, I participated in the annual Growing Up Asian in America essay contest. Each year, the prompt was almost exactly the same, basically revolving around the contest title. The first year, I spent hours writing and editing. I didn't win. The next year, I started from scratch. Yet again, I didn't win. As the years went on, I transitioned from a complete demolition of the previous year's work to some mere nipping and tucking sparked by a gradually induced discouragement, jadedness, and apathy. I finally realized there was nothing fun about this traditional (read: never-changing) essay prompt, my "traditional" essay, and my traditional loss.

In my rotational program, we associates are encouraged to speak our minds and present our "fresh perspective" to our teams, usually involving employees who have worked at the company much longer than we have. We're told that ironically, our lesser experience in the field may help the more experienced to see things in a new light.

There is something to be said about the comfort that accompanies tradition. From simple occurrences like the route I take to work or more conventional events like Thanksgiving. It is nice knowing that despite the curve-balls (or bocce balls) whizzing through life, there is the occasional rock keeping things in place. But at the same time, the line between tradition and "I've just always done it this way" is a fuzzy one. Every so often, it's important to break free of tradition, be it for your own personal growth or for the continuing success of some larger institution. To question blind compliance. To shake things up a little. To change everything. And, as Apple would say, to change everything again.

Oh, in case you were wondering, the entire scope of my family's Bocce skill lies with my mother.