We recognize “anomalous” behavior in the context of place: Moshing in a monastery, screaming in a spa, handfeeding haute cuisine in a five-star restaurant, and examples you recognize from experience. When we walk into a place, we either understand appropriate behavior or we don’t. It’s the ultimate social Either/Or because those who “understand” such behavior rarely or never accept alternatives. Wearing old jeans to the country club is definitely taboo; wearing a taffeta tuxedo to a minor league baseball game is clownish.
Observe how you conform to places: Office buildings, houses of worship, public parks, five-star hotels, and highways. You’ve spent your life learning behavior appropriate to place. Generally, you understand place’s control over behavior. Maybe, on occasion, you’ve tested the water of anomalous behavior, but finding it at times too hot or too cold to continue wading deeper, you’ve decided to “be appropriate,” that is, “to act appropriately.” Or maybe, like those whose names are associated “forever” with the changing of a place, you have left your indelible mark, and place will thereafter be associated with “that crazy person,” "that insightful person," or, hopefully not, "that tragic person."
We seemed to be obsessed also with two views about place: We want to preserve it or change it. Tour guides extoll the past of place; developers extoll the future of place. I’ll wager you have both views, not of the same place, of course, but of different places. Both views, however, require concerted efforts for practical fulfillment.
Consider, then, how much energy you put into acting appropriately or inappropriately and in maintaining or in replacing. Go ahead; consider your behaviors, views, and plans. Find some place to ponder place.