The following article originally appeared on Roosh V.
Many people plan their lives around seeking comfort. Whether it’s work, relationships or everyday life, all decisions are made with the goal of increasing comfort while decreasing discomfort. The problem with this approach is that comfort doesn’t give you meaning. You can have all the comforts in the world but still feel bored, unhappy or depressed.
In 2006, I was in a state of extreme comfort. I shared a big house with two other people, had a stable career that wasn’t particularly demanding, owned a car and a motorbike, and was able to take exciting vacations abroad. I had no pressing worries other than securing my next instance of sex on my weekend jaunts around town. I was pretty close to the modern ideal of comfort, yet I saw little value in it. Would comfort inspire me? Would that make me a man? Would that give me any meaning in life? In two years, I got rid of most of my belongings and went to South America, the beginning of a long history of nomadism.
Today, I find myself again in a state of extreme comfort. I live in a comfortable flat in the center of an Eastern European city, earn a basic but livable income from book royalties, and get an essentially steady supply of sex. I feel little anxiety or real difficulty because of my life situation. Was the purpose of my decade abroad simply to replicate the comfort I had before I left? How could the same flavor of comfort find me? Am I destined to age without ever really caring about my survival or my material existence?
Isn’t it degenerate to seek comfort, to want to sit down and relax while expending as few calories as possible, where your muscles physically degenerate, and where you have to artificially simulate an uncomfortable life by lifting weights in a hall corporate sports? The search for comfort is perhaps just a relic of our childhood, where we rushed into our mother’s womb to isolate ourselves from a world that exposed our weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Comfort is a need for the mother and the security she has given us for most of our lives, to return to the first safe space we have ever known.
The first time I made comfort a goal, but the second time I didn’t. When your ability to earn a living wage crosses a certain threshold, either from being born in the resource-rich West or having a proficient IQ, comfort will be part of your life, whether you like it or not, and any attempt to fight it will just reinforce how comfortable you really are. We live in a time when food and resources have never been more plentiful for the average man, so we won’t face the survival difficulty of our ancestors no matter how hard we try. We are the house cat who can come home whenever it’s too cold or dangerous outside.
Right now I’m faced with the decision of whether to stay in my comfortable Eastern European environment, where I no longer need to work hard to enjoy its rewards, or go somewhere different, challenging and slightly more uncomfortable. In the past, I chose the harsh environment to satisfy an ego that was desperate to prove that it could overcome obstacles through hard work and intellect, but now I have nothing to prove. The only questions left are whether I want to age so stable that most of the lessons I’ve learned in life will never serve my survival, or whether I want to venture into the unknown. and live a life slightly more raw and spontaneous existence.
Either way, I know that if I refuse comfort today, it will find me soon enough. Setting foot in another new country will be like going to the company gym – I’ll do an intense but short workout before heading back out to sit and eat and relax and consume unlimited entertainment. My ability to earn a modern salary means comfort will always be waiting for me. When the outside world bares my teeth, I know mother earth is always ready to hug me and make things comfortable again.
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