In brief
Melissa Kirsch shares her experience of stepping outside her comfort zone to learn mahjong, revealing the hidden rewards of embracing new challenges and fostering community.
Last week, I found myself stepping into a vibrant restaurant in Brooklyn, eager to explore the world of Hong Kong-style mahjong. Accompanied by a friend, I had often admired the game's colorful bakelite tiles and the nostalgic clacking of the pieces. My mother is an avid player of the American variation, a weekly ritual that sparked a touch of jealousy within me: why didn’t I have a regular game of my own?Our group consisted of around 15 novices, all anticipating our first taste of the intricate game. We began with a dummy round, where the teacher ant the us through the mechanics of the game. Setting up the table and building the wall of tiles was a new experience filled with both excitement and confusion. As the teacher introduced suit tiles, honor tiles, and the various rules, confusion grew: I fumbled over the concept of forming a pung with three identical tiles while grappling with the nuances of flower tiles.Amidst my frustration, a nagging question arose: Why was I learning this game when my schedule was already full? I had plenty of other games I knew how to play, yet here I was, struggling to grasp something entirely new. The discomfort of learning is often uninviting. The thought of retreating struck me: perhaps it would be easier to back out.However, days later, my friend surprised me with a mahjong set of our own, craving togetherness and the fun of playing with others. It dawned on me that our lesson wasn't just about learning a game; it was a doorway to community—a chance to embrace the unfamiliar with friends and share in the journey of becoming better, together.This experience encapsulated a vital truth: being new at something can uncomfortable, but it opens the path to companionship and shared experiences, fostering deeper connections over a shared table, setting the stage for potential traditions and rituals.
