Comfort is the place where everything withers. This, I have come to know, in my mid-20s. Standing on the side of the road, eating a popsicle ice cream in the middle of the night, convinced and spooked that I’m letting my fountain of youth run dry. I’m not a fearful person by design. I have enough courage to survive a thousand wars. But I’m scared of not living. I’m scared of getting old and not experiencing most of the meaningful things this world has to offer. Comfort is good. It gives us a blanket and puts us to sleep soundly. But comfort prevents us from seeing the stars at night. It disallows us to marvel the meteor showers occasionally. To move a bit away from comfort means to do something radical. And to do something radical is to put the metaphorical blanket in the drawer where you can’t see it. So you can finally grow. So you can learn how to go through the coldest night even without it.
Recently, I’ve made a decision to leave my nest for a while. This is a bold move financially, emotionally, and physically. But at 28, I feel it’s imperative to be in a bigger sea, hunting fishes on my own. It’s great to be living rent-free. To have someone cook your everyday meals. And to run most of your errands. These seemingly small things, when aggregated, can give anyone of us the flexibility to do our meaningful work. Yet these things, too, can easily be taken for granted. They can lull us into believing that there’s always someone doing shit for us. When, in reality, to be free is to be self-sufficient. It’s uncomfortable (if not stressful) to juggle personal and work lives both at the same time – and still do well on them. But that is how we thrive.
Going back to the city is like reentering the forest on my own. Though the uncertainties aren’t that scary in comparison to the first time I encounter them, the unknowns I face now still outnumber the unknowns I battle at home. The concrete jungle isn’t exactly a safe place. But whenever I look at the glittering buildings at night, I momentarily think that maybe I belong here. The towering residence I live in makes me giddy to wake up. The electric feeling of being surrounded by thousands of strangers ignites the thought that anything is possible. That all of us can be whoever we want, living elsewhere, and having whatever it is that we wish to have. All of these endless possibilities are feasible only if we’re brave enough to leave our comfort zones.
A famous Albert Einstein quotes goes something like this: “A ship is always safe at shore, but that’s not what it’s built for.” I think this legendary genius is on into something. If we look at the history, we can find that even our nomadic ancestors move from places to places. They rarely stay rooted in one location. To them, survival means embracing change and embodying it. In our modern time, this sounds ridiculous. Not settling and building a home makes one feel unstable. But what if home is never a place? What if home is anywhere in this world where you can bloom immensely?
Growth requires shaking up your world. It’s unlearning some of your preconceived notions. The recognition of your subconscious biases. It’s fostering the courage to explore on your own. Then finally going on a sailing journey away from the shore that you have always known. The best part is that you get to define how the destination will look like. It can appear as common as setting foot on a touristy haven. Or finding refuge in a city. Or hiding in a remote region where you are guaranteed utter silence and peace of mind. Wherever place you end up is where you’re supposed to be. That’s where you can cultivate a sense of belongingness, a sense of flourishment.
Our twenties aren’t meant to be easy. At least for most of us. Occasionally, we’ll get swept into a whirlwind of confusions. We will have more questions than answers. This world will try and test us, pushing us to our breaking limits. But these hardships will polish us. They will teach us about perseverance, about tenacity, about making the right choice in the middle of the night while eating an ice cream popsicle. This decade is unlikely to grant us the fluffy comfort we all yearn. But maybe this is not the time to lay back and sip our coffee worry-free. Maybe this is the time to make scary, bold moves. A space in our lives for self-explorations. To honor the survival of our nomadic ancestor. And to evolve. Comfort doesn’t make one grow. Our duty as humans is to reach our fullest potential. To go back to bed at night, knowing very well that we have given it all. That we have set our best foot forward to search for the home out there, and within us.
