I. Get off. On challenge.
I don’t think it’s comfort that I crave.
Comfort is what I want to escape.
Comfort for the sake of comfort was never my value.
Comfort in the face of extremes?
When comfort is a given, homeostasis is a given. There’s nothing to work toward.
I don’t practice escapism because life is hard. I practice escapism because modern life is too easy.
My ancient ancestors never had the luxury of living a life so far removed from death that survival was an afterthought. They were hardwired for survival. Comfort felt like cheating death.
I too am hardwired for survival. But comfort no longer feels like cheating death. It feels like cheating myself.
Cheating myself out of playing the game of life.
So I subconsciously try to recreate survival threats.
I do it subconsciously because to actually choose to risk my life would be crazy.
My ancient tribemates would have left me for dead or killed me themselves if I went thrill seeking with sabre-toothed tigers one too many times.
But humankind has evolved past sabre-toothed tigers.
Humankind has evolved past every threat except the one we pose to ourselves.
We have become paper tigers, bereft of purpose.
Deprived of our most fundamental drive.
The drive to survive.
We find new ways to die.