Comfort is boring
Transitions are curious. To an extent, the unknown is enticing, slightly thrilling. But there's a fearful undercurrent that runs parallel to the appeal of the uncharted. Just the prospect of change is met with a diversity of responses: fear, enthusiasm, sadness, anger, trepidation. Some appear in isolation, those most have a response drawing from a combination of emotions. Some feel the pit in their stomach forming at the very thought of being the "outsider" in a new environment; they dedicate their effort to assimilating, to trying to trick themselves and those around them that they are a Local. But others perceive the pit in their stomach as an indicator of awaiting adventure. Change will push them into the unknown and catalyze an unforeseen experience. Regardless of your response, this feeling of uncertainty and anxiety is important to recognize. As the old adage goes, "Growth begins at the end of your comfort zone". The people who feel their heart rate increase at the thought of change and train themselves to meet this response with excitement, are the very people that work to make change. Gillian and I, we are among the rare breed of those who thrive in anticipation of change and the inevitable discomfort. Sure, we may complain about the unavoidable difficulties and the impending failures we foresee, but I am speaking for the both of us when I say comfort is boring.
Our post-graduate plans reflect our aversion to comfort; this summer, we have certainly both left our comfort zones. Gillian is in a familiar place exploring a new topic and I am in a new place deepening my knowledge of a pre-established passion.
Gillian is working for an urban planning firm in her beloved hometown of New York City. And though she is living at home with her parents for the summer, she is still outside of her familiar. Her work with BFJ Planning required her to dive into the discipline of "urban planning". With no previous experience in this field, Gillian is pushing herself to learn quickly: how exactly does zoning work? what are the schooling implications of new residential developments? how do you effective facilitate a town meeting?
Much to the chagrin of my family and friends, I moved to Arkansas. I accepted a position with the Society for Wilderness Stewardship as a Wilderness Fellow on the Ozark-St. Francis National Forests, requiring me to relocate to the South. The land of barbeque, humidity, and y'all. To be frank, I don't think the word "Arkansas" had surfaced in my vernacular until I accepted my placement. I had to search through the dusty, cobweb-covered corners of my mind in search of the box titled "American South". I knew no one, I knew nothing about the region, I was diving into the unknown with full-force.
But Gillian and I are happy, ecstatic, and optimistic about these new adventures. Speaking to my own outlook, I'm excited to be alone and independent of the networks I've built over the course of my life thus far. I'm curious to see where these new paths lead us.
I suppose my point in all of this is to say that, yes, the unknown carries inevitable discomfort, but through this discomfort, new perspectives are formed and unforeseen adventures emerge. Pushing yourself to pick up a new lens, or apply an old lens to a new context, can be transformative. We both know that this next season of discomfort may be challenging, and we fully anticipate to find ourselves struggling to adapt to our new surroundings. But we are excited and ready for the growth that is to come!
Our post-graduate plans reflect our aversion to comfort; this summer, we have certainly both left our comfort zones. Gillian is in a familiar place exploring a new topic and I am in a new place deepening my knowledge of a pre-established passion.
Gillian is working for an urban planning firm in her beloved hometown of New York City. And though she is living at home with her parents for the summer, she is still outside of her familiar. Her work with BFJ Planning required her to dive into the discipline of "urban planning". With no previous experience in this field, Gillian is pushing herself to learn quickly: how exactly does zoning work? what are the schooling implications of new residential developments? how do you effective facilitate a town meeting?
Much to the chagrin of my family and friends, I moved to Arkansas. I accepted a position with the Society for Wilderness Stewardship as a Wilderness Fellow on the Ozark-St. Francis National Forests, requiring me to relocate to the South. The land of barbeque, humidity, and y'all. To be frank, I don't think the word "Arkansas" had surfaced in my vernacular until I accepted my placement. I had to search through the dusty, cobweb-covered corners of my mind in search of the box titled "American South". I knew no one, I knew nothing about the region, I was diving into the unknown with full-force.
But Gillian and I are happy, ecstatic, and optimistic about these new adventures. Speaking to my own outlook, I'm excited to be alone and independent of the networks I've built over the course of my life thus far. I'm curious to see where these new paths lead us.
I suppose my point in all of this is to say that, yes, the unknown carries inevitable discomfort, but through this discomfort, new perspectives are formed and unforeseen adventures emerge. Pushing yourself to pick up a new lens, or apply an old lens to a new context, can be transformative. We both know that this next season of discomfort may be challenging, and we fully anticipate to find ourselves struggling to adapt to our new surroundings. But we are excited and ready for the growth that is to come!
- Paige
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