The comfort zone

I remember when I first moved to London from this small town South of Sydney where my mum/dad lived. Every time I walked out and adventured around London my eyes couldn't keep up with what I was seeing and experiencing. I spent so long just taking it all in.

But soon enough it all just became ‘routine’ it was totally normal to me.

I barely even noticed that I worked a 10 minute walk from Buckingham Palace. I didn't realize that the national gallery was around the corner or that I could just walk to work instead of taking the daily tube to work where all you see is bored people going to work, the corporate life.

Along with the masses, it began to irritate me when I had to wait more than four minutes for a tube. I’d so quickly forgotten I came from a place where the only way to get out was by a train that ran every hour (if that) And sometimes it just didn't show up or at the very least there was track work or the train was just late just because.

And that homeless guy a few streets from work I passed almost every day, it no longer made me upset like it used to, as I struggled to understand how he ended up there. How person after person would walk past him like he did not exist. He was just another part of my surroundings, a piece of the furniture in my life. 

I got up. I went to work. I went home. I went to bed. And then the process started all over again. A continuous cycle of routine.

I was really comfortable. But I wasn't happy. Everything had become routine.

But I’d also stopped seeing. Stopped hearing. Stopped feeling.

Stopped living.

Then something happened, an epiphany of sorts after a break up that should of happened a long time ago. And now it feels as though I've come full circle. It’s as though I'm seeing London for the very first time. And it’s far from comfortable. I've started again. I take a different route to work almost every day. I actually leave my office in my lunch break. Yesterday I went to the national gallery and looked at amazing pieces of art. Last week I caught a tube to Natural History Museum. Tomorrow I'm catching a plane to Amsterdam for a long weekend!

 And it hits me that as I start this trip this is what’s ahead of me now. Months and months of constant new beginnings. Each time turning up in a new place and starting again. Finding my way. Making new friends. Constant discomfort.

I find myself wondering why anyone would want to put themselves through that when they have a comfort of sorts in life, A daily routine that makes everything simple and easy. 

But it’s through the discomfort, the change of routine that your eyes begin to see again. That your ears begin to hear. That you start to take notice and really begin to feel. Each of your senses begin to reawaken and you’re deeply affected by everything around you. You rediscover your passions and the causes you know are worth fighting for.

Comfort kills.

It’s warmth lures you in. It wraps itself around you and pretends it only wants to protect you. Before you realise what’s happening, everything has become so comfortable that either you can’t remember what life was like before the comfort or you’re too scared to break free.

I'd challenge you to think about how much around your daily life in the world you live in you actually notice and take in? 

What small things could you change to bring a change of routine, to bring discomfort to change your life a little/to add excitement?

Discomfort hurts. But comfort kills.

It’s time to start getting comfortable with the uncomfortable. Thats’s where life begins.