Are comfort and suffering the extreme ends of a continuum, or is it more complicated than that?
In The Closing of The American Mind, Alan Bloom lays bare the pitfalls of a society that values comfort as life’s primary aim. Being comfortable is a luxury, but dwelling in comfort insulates us from reality and filters our perceptions into their most convenient form; in this state biases go unchallenged, relationships stagnate, and growth is utterly renounced.
Some find their comfort in the drunken fog of drugs or alcohol, while others mollify daily discomforts by shoving pennies made of time into various jelly-bean dopamine machines: Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and more. We might not see people shooting up or stumbling around drunkenly on a daily basis, but try waiting in a line at the store or sitting on a bus or waiting at a traffic light and observe the desperate eagerness we feel to forsake reality for comfort.
This is the price we pay for being comfort-seeking creatures. In a world that profits off your insecurity and preys on your attention, choosing to live in the present moment is a heroic act of rebellion.
The answer isn’t just to seek discomfort. It’s to seek discomfort and revel in it. To acknowledge (constructive) pain and then lean into it. Peeling back the protective insulation that has built up over the years and letting yourself feel sensations in all their brilliant rawness. But remember, suffering is not the end goal. It is the means by which we achieve wisdom, self-knowledge, and freedom.
This is a bold thing to say, and perhaps I should expand on what I mean. When I talk about suffering as a means to a positive end, I am referring not to involuntary suffering (illness, loss, etc.) but to voluntary suffering (physical toil, presence, and accompaniment). So though suffering is not necessarily good, it can be used for good. In its dire clutch we discover our true selves – whether we want to or not – and only in this discovery can we learn to be free.
In my case, the suffering I lean into is often athletic. At the jagged edge of my last nerve, I find my limits and understand more about who I am, why I am, and what I’m here for. I’m not exaggerating. The most profound thoughts and inspirations pour out of my subconscious to the front of my mind. I am often – and only momentarily – inspired when at my physical limit.
Following this path of chosen hardship, we dwell not in comfort. Our biases are checked, our relationships develop, and growth is virtually guaranteed.
If we choose to skirt around suffering and pretend it does not affect us, its presence will only grow more pervasive as our ability to comprehend it fades. But if we choose to step inside and lean into suffering through how we live, we may discover that beauty frames suffering. In the eye of the hurricane, we may find peace.
