WHY DO WE ALWAYS SIT IN THE SAME SPOT, EVEN WHEN THE ROOM IS EMPTY?

Have you ever noticed how, no matter how many seats there are in a room, you—or someone you know—inevitably gravitates toward the same spot? The one by the window, the chair near the door, or the corner seat farthest from the crowd. It’s a curious human habit that seems almost instinctive, a silent claim staked not with words but with the body.

This choice, repeated day after day, speaks volumes about our relationship with space, comfort, and identity. That particular seat becomes more than just a place to sit; it becomes a small sanctuary, a familiar anchor in the shifting tides of daily life. Even when the room is empty, the pull of habit—and the memories woven into that spot—make it feel like home.

In Nepali households and public spaces alike, this phenomenon is common. It’s where we feel safest, where our posture feels natural, and where we unconsciously mark our presence. The spot carries the imprint of past conversations, shared laughter, and quiet moments of solitude. Sitting there is a way of saying, “This is my space,” even if no one else is there to witness it.

Psychologically, this habit offers a sense of control and predictability in a world often marked by uncertainty. It reduces decision fatigue—one less choice to make—and creates a comforting routine. More subtly, it can also reflect our social roles and relationships. That chair by the elder in a family gathering, or the favorite seat of a close friend in a café, signals belonging and status without needing to be spoken aloud.

The next time you find yourself drawn to the same seat, even in an empty room, pause for a moment. Consider the invisible threads of habit, memory, and identity that tie you to that spot. In the small act of sitting, we carry stories and emotions, anchoring ourselves to place and to self in ways that are both quiet and profound.