Comfort can be everywhere and yet hard to come by. Life involves long hours and tired feet these days, and I find myself breathing a deep sigh of relief when, after walking in my door, I ease into a comfortable pair of socks. Cozy socks have become a sort of north star.
Some of us (me) fear getting too comfortable. Indeed, it can be a dangerous place when it gets in the way of reality, of love, of hope. Sometimes it lead into the status-quo of materialism, all about self-indulgence, forgetful of the people outside who sit in the rain with no umbrella. In my comfort, I am afraid of forgetting my blessings, becoming numb and comatose, perhaps missing out on risk and passion.
However, I find that nothing does more for my sense of LIFE and exuberance than a few moments in indulgent R & R. It seems that more passion, more energy, and more heart come from those restorations than any sort of fear. Every person, regardless of wealth, needs rest.
So, what would my dream "comfort" look like (this is not in any way relational comfort, mind you. Purely material).
Comfort would feel like the plush pillowtop mattress on a California King bed at Shutters on the Beach:
It would smell like eucalyptus citrus scents at the 5 Star Nun Spa & Museum where the Non-Scotsman and I went in Assisi.
And at the end of this moment, the huge sigh you breathe feels so vibrant and content and full of joy.