Comfort

To paraphrase Bill Hicks, “You can tell a lot about a country by the drugs it uses.” America, and Western civilization for the most part, is addicted to alcohol and caffeine. Alcohol to help us forget our misery every night, and coffee to wake us up so that we may continue to toil away at our miserable, meaningless jobs. Bill was spot on. One could argue that the younger generations aren’t so clear cut, experimenting with hallucinogens and such, and the legalization of cannabis may change things, but for the most part, it’s the two Bill pointed out. Knock em out, wake em up. At least that’s how it seems. Those are the the substances we consume, yes, but why do we consume them? What do they get us?

They get us comfort.

Our society is addicted to comfort, to a certain way of living. It’s not just food, clothing, and shelter we’re after, no, we’ve moved past those rather primitive first level of needs. We want bigger and better things. Because we don’t want enough food to stave off hunger, we want enough food to get full, to eat until we don’t feel well. We don’t just want clothes to keep us warm, we want clothing that shows off how stylish we are, often, ironically, flying in the face of warmth. And our shelters must not shield us only from the elements, but must make us forget the elements exist at all. These are the things we’re addicted to. Therefore, like an addict willing to do anything to get a fix, we do all that we can to ensure our comfort. Luckily for us the workforce has been designed to cater to our addiction. Which is why Raval Navikant says the, “The most dangerous things are heroin and a monthly salary.”

Our lifestyles, the en vogue term used to describe the things we value, dictate how much money we must make. And more often than not, how we go about making that money is not aligned with our inner selves. Alas, the comforts of the physical world are much easier to attain than inner peace, and illicit far more joy. At least that’s what the marketing world would have us believe. They tell us that we deserve a good place to live and a car, extravagant furniture, extensive wardrobes, a readily available variety of foods, and entertainment in an instant. They tell us we should live like in the lap of luxury. And we believe them. We see the smiles in the commercials, the joy others are having, and we want in on the action. Especially if all we have to do is buy a product.

Contentedness and inner peace may prove more satisfying than anything in the material world, but if we’ve never experienced them, how would we know? All we know is the joy offered by things. We’re inundated with it from birth. Babies are dressed in cute outfits and surrounded by toys at their parents’ behest. They know only the comforts of life. Though I must mention that, for a time, babies are don’t buy it. They’re more infatuated with the their environment and the empty boxes the toys came in. They have inner peace. But as time goes on, and the comforts of the material world confronts them at every corner, they cannot help but succumb to it’s call. After all, everyone else is doing it, why wouldn’t they? Inner peace through meditation and all that stuff it hard, it takes time, and there is no clear end. The monks can get their jollies from it, as for the rest of us, we’ll find our joy through things.

Of course toys, entertainment, and food don’t come for free, we have to work for them. So we plug away in factories and cubicles, hating our existence, and trying to forget it the moment we return home, the hub of comfort.

This is why a co-worker of mine said the two best businesses are coffee and rental properties. People are already hooked, they’ll pay whatever they can to get their fix, and they’re acceptable. Legal drug dealing. Selling a way for folks to function well enough at their jobs so that their employer will continue to pay them, allowing the worker to keep paying for a comfortable place to spend their evenings and weekends. It makes sense. People want the stuff, just give it to them.

The ultimate comfort, of course, is owning your own house. Which follows the exact same principle, but you’re not getting your high from the neighbourhood drug dealer anymore, you’ve got the clout to get it from the head dealers, the ones who blur the lines between crime and legitimacy; the banks. Because banks know more than anyone how much people love comfort. And they’ve amassed so much comfort themselves that they’re willing to let you own your comfort outright. No more having to score it from anyone. It just takes 25 years and you have to pay interest along the way. But there is an end, a light at the end of the tunnel. Provided you don’t extend the mortgage with all the repairs and remodelling your home will require to stay comfortable.

Thus our lives become consumed by comfort. All of our actions driven by the level of comfort we want to live in. Forgetting the fact that we suffer through immense discomfort on a daily basis for only the illusion of comfort. This is why Henry David Thoreau said, “The fastest way is to walk.” Yes, one could work x amount of time to amass a sum that would afford you passage somewhere, but that could take years, when your feet are always at the ready to take you. The same is true of everything. It is not necessary to work our entire lives to buy a house, we can build our own. We do not need to go to a grocery store to buy food, we can grow or hunt our own. We do not need to amass a wardrobe of clothing, we can make our own. Such options will not be as comfortable as those offered by the material world, but if one can be content with what is available to them, then they will be fine. Alas, we’re all junkies. Fiends for comfort. And in order to kick the habit, we’d have to abandon all we’ve ever know. A cost most of us aren’t willing to pay.