In brief
In the quest to find new hobbies, one writer explores the complexities of learning mahjong, ultimately recognizing the potential for community and personal growth.
Last week, I took the plunge and invited a friend to join me at a Brooklyn restaurant where we aimed to discover the intricacies of Hong Kong-style mahjong. Surrounded by the vibrant allure of the game's colorful bakelite tiles and the melodic clinking of shuffling pieces, I felt an initial thrill mixed with apprehension. My mother immerses herself in the American version of mahjong every week, fostering friendships through routine gameplay, an engaging activity that I longed to be part of.As we gathered with approximately fifteen fellow novices, our teacher led us through a practice round, laying bare the rules and strategies that govern the game. From setting up the table and constructing a tile wall to learning about suit tiles, honor tiles, dragons, and winds, the complexity began to unravel. Indeed, learning mahjong was no walk in the park; our instructor patiently reiterated every protocol, ensuring we absorbed the information. Confusion peppered the experience: three identical tiles for a pung? Why did another player win while I was still comprehending how flower tiles worked? A wave of doubt washed over me, prompting the self-reflective question: Why am I even attempting this? As an inherently curious person craving adventures, I yearned to expand my horizons. However, the reality of learning something new felt foreign and daunting. It’s all too easy to gravitate toward familiar activities, allowing comfort to sway our choices. With frustrations mounting, I contemplated slipping away without being noticed, overwhelmed by self-doubt.Days later, my friend surprised me by revealing that she purchased a mahjong set. “All we need now are two more people to play,” she said. I recalled our lesson and how I had nearly given up because I couldn't keep pace. Being a beginner often invokes feelings of insecurity, pushing us to retreat to the familiar, where our confidence lies. Nevertheless, her kindness offered a chance for camaraderie – a shared experience of grappling with something new together. This venture held the potential for community, the promise of not just a new hobby but perhaps a delightful ritual echoing those I had observed in my mother’s weekly games.
