Comfort zones are interesting things.
I am sure you have heard the cliché saying: "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone," probably while you were scrolling through Pinterest looking at microwavable mug cake recipes, in white font, overlaying some beautiful scenery like a beach or mountains or something.
Yeah, you see? You know exactly what I'm talking about. Do you feel inspired to be a risk-taker yet? Does this grainy and over-processed image encourage you to go put yourself out there, talk to that person, take that new job, travel somewhere new?
No? It doesn't?
I don't blame you. It's pretty unimpressive marketing. But there is some truth to this message.
Comfort zones are an inherently funny concept. The really interesting thing about them is that they are always shifting. Each time you push outside that area you feel safe in, you expand your realm of normalcy. Next time, talking to that stranger or making that "risky" choice will not be so scary anymore. It will just be another typical and non-noteworthy moment in life, and the situation will pass by without a second thought. We see this expansion and development in our peers every day, both in small ways and occasionally in more powerful ones.
However, sometimes this push toward the fringe of comfort takes a dramatic turn. This, I believe, is the common denominator surrounding those incredibly unique and inspiring individuals you occasionally come across. Those people who are ruled by passionate living. The ones who, when you start talking and unpacking their experiences, your initial reaction is something along the lines of "how is this real life?" They have spent so much time on the edge of their comfort zones, that they have found ways to reconcile nearly all fear of the unknown, and they instead live in this space of potentiality. This space is where the magic occurs.
I recently encountered some of these individuals. In an attempt to expand my abilities and self-sufficiency, I embarked on an adventure that I was quite uncomfortable with: solo travel. This scares me. A lot. Many different people can attest to this because they listened to me ramble, anxiously pace around the room and generally flip out over every little detail of this trip for the weeks leading up to it. Endless thanks to them and their superhuman level of patience with me during these times—I am very grateful. I just like the safety of having another person with you as you explore unknown places. If something goes wrong, you have each other to rely on. Since I am one of those prepare-for-the-worst type of individuals, that safetynet makes a huge difference for me. I do not like the vulnerability piece associated with being alone. But here I was, hopping on a plane to expand my horizons for a week in a brand new city on a brand new island. And it was the most beneficial experience. Because I was alone, I was more involved in the experiences and connections around me. And because I was more engaged, opportunities presented themselves, and my trip took an entirely different turn from what I was planning. By slowing down my experience through flying solo, spaces came into being. I ended up learning loads about astrophotography from some incredibly talented photographers, spending Easter Sunday with a Fijian community, staying at the world's largest wooden building made of recycled materials, being exposed to New Zealand's freshwater pollution crisis, and protesting on the steps of Parliament. And I made some passionate and driven new friends, people who operate far outside the normal constraints of fear, just to top it all off.
So where does it stop? When do you become complacent in where you feel comfortable? Or do you push your comfort zone to expand indefinitely, and become one of those unreal individuals?
