Comfort gets a bad rap these days.

I read once, in an article somewhere, that comfort is death.  Whaaaa????


There are different kinds of comfort.  There is the comfort of a soft sweater, a bubble bath, or a cushy chair.  Don’t shell out cash for an uncomfortable chair (no one will want to come to your house).  Unless your home is a museum.

There is the comfort of seeing one’s therapist (and knowing insurance will cover it), or knowing that one can safely walk down the street to buy groceries (many people don’t get that one).

Then there is the comfort of not being politically informed.  Or always eating at the same restaurant.  Or never following your dream of helping orphaned animal babies because your parents want you to have a ‘real’ job that brings in the big bucks.

The former is physical, practical, soothing, good for us.  The latter, too safe in the long run.  Mental comfort doesn’t help us grow.  When we stay mentally comfortable for too long, we loose touch with everything amazing about being human.

We forget that having been born human, creativity is our birthright.  Inspiration can’t come knocking when we haven’t created her proper receptacle.

We only have to look at our animal companions (like my dear Olivier in the featured image), to see the importance of physical comfort to one’s wellbeing.  But, they always have a bit of adventurous curiosity in them because it’s good for the soul, too.

We must distinguish between physical comfort and mental comfort.  It’s practical, and much kinder.

Love,  Alexa.

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