Curiosity Over Comfort

"This is the life you've chosen."

An unintentionally philosophical reminder I sigh after discovering yet another article of clothing stained by the history of the day. Oil, dirt, snot, grease, markers, frosting, borax - mess is the natural byproduct of my own investments. Financially, sure, but to solely define investment by its most common association would be to deny its full meaning.

We invest our time, presence, efforts, mind space, patience, hope - anything we own - to the things we deem worthwhile. A sense of stability comes when our investments appear to match our values, shaken only by the stains we wish would be excluded from this packaged deal. Yet we must own these marks as readily as we do the results for which we originally intended.

The additional few minutes I spend in the morning piecing together a new outfit after being mocked by the resiliency of a stain I thought I got out, I use to reflect. Maybe that's me being a little too deep but it's true. I need to ensure this morning nuisance (and financial expense when my OxiClean doesn't come through) is not a reflection of my inabilities or laziness but of what I've chosen to spend myself on. Truthfully, I could keep my clothes clean. But to make that a priority would be to turn the relationships I cherish into the nuisance I deal with. I spend those morning minutes reminding myself of this, ultimately aiming to make peace with both my decision and its results.

Peace and comfort are not the same. I do not find asking for forgiveness nor giving it particularly comfortable, but I have decided that mending relationships is worthy of my own discomfort and therefore I have peace in my pursuance and acceptance of it.

Any decision is at risk of producing unintended, negative, secondary results. Sometimes we don't realize them because they do not affect us. These are the most dangerous because they do not disturb our peace unless something or someone outside of our immediate awareness discloses the unintentional impact of our choices, putting themselves at the mercy of our now new decision to choose curiosity or comfort.

Comfort requires no growth, no risk, no vulnerability. It's, well...comfortable. Curiosity ruins comfort. Curiosity decides that truth is not a singular perspective or experience but something to be learned together. Curiosity requires all the things comfort avoids.

Pair together society's uninhibited pursuance of luxury (the state of great comfort) and its fear of humiliation and its no surprise we find ourselves trapped into polarizing ideologies. Conversations, the starting point for any chance at change, quickly turn into wars in which the humanity of one side is denied for the sake of the mission statement of the other.

Division isn't accidental. By our own comfort, we permit it.

I do not write to declare my support for any side. I do write that we might question what we are defending when we enter into discussions with others and decisions within ourselves.

Ultimately, I hope that we move away from acts of self-defense, which make things like the avoidance of embarrassment, belittlement, or pesky stains on our clothes our focus, and towards the defense of things worth being uncomfortable for.