I once wore out a sofa.
The sofa was brown. I don’t recall where KB purchased it, just that she did and then it was her sofa. I’m not one to care what the furniture in the house looks like, so anything that is half nice is probably thanks to her. If memory serves, and it rarely does, she bought it right after we moved into our house in Warshington (r added for Prattipus). It was probably one of the first pieces of furniture we had together that was new, albeit, fairly inexpensive. I had a tendency to sit in the same spot every time I sat and that’s where it wore out.
It was on the left side if you were looking at it, right side from sitter’s view. It started somewhat slowly. You could see wear, a slight discoloration. This continued to deteriorate until the faux leather that covered the couch started to come apart. Once that started, it was blatantly obvious where I was sitting as well. There was discoloration and a permanent butt print. However, if you looked at the cushions they were brand new.
I don’t recall who it was, but he was certainly wearing a white shirt and tie with a black name tag on the right pocket. He was drawing on a whiteboard inside a church that was not air-conditioned in the middle of Santiago, Chile. There was a square and inside the square were written the words, “Comfort Zone.” It was a Venn Diagram type of presentation.
The presenter was tasked with inspiring 300-400 20-something-year-old boys and a handful of women to engage anyone and everyone around them to sell the good word of the good lord that they had chosen to worship. A task somewhere on the impossible side of the scale if the scale goes from easy to impossible.
While the square that represented the comfort zone was uniform in size and shape, the actual zone exists differently for all of us. In this situation, the borders of the square could have been drawn with some common obstacles. There was a clear language barrier for most of the almost homogenous sea of white-shirted males in attendance. The cultural differences between Santiaguinos and us gringos would have been another side of the square coupled with the lack of attempting to understand those differences and step beyond the colonial nature of what we were all there to accomplish (of course, that’s a whole nother conversation). Side three could have been identified as the fact that the vast majority of Chileans already had a religion that they adhere to and are happy with. And lastly, the almost innumerable personal obstacles each of us had, anxiety, depression, lack of confidence, lack of life experiences, etc.
Outside of this square that was coupled with obstacles that would keep us in our comfort zone, was an expansive field of personal growth. As the presentation went, the logic was to experience personal growth, one must step out of the comfort zone. Or you could say, being uncomfortable is how one grows.
Not remembering who was giving this inspirational presentation, I can’t be 100% certain, but I’d put it at least 95% that they had no realization of the irony of their presentation. They would probably be stoked that I still remember that presentation, but a little appalled at what it has meant. While it certainly motivated me to step out of my comfort zone and make contact with every Chilean, it really just upped my anxiety level of not feeling comfortable doing that and made me feel like a failure that I couldn’t get my mouth to open to talk to them which did make me uncomfortable.
A few weeks ago, Alliance member Harrison was in town and graced the Lounge with his presence. There are probably thousands of things he could teach us about leaving one’s comfort zone, but there was one thing he did consistently while at our house that struck me as fitting. The fire was going. The dogs were rambunctious as per their norm. There were two sofas, a piano bench and a recliner in the room, unoccupied. KB was sitting in her banana chair and I was perched in front of one of the sofas.
And Harrison sat on the ground.
For those who haven’t had the opportunity to meet Harrison, he’s a professional hiking guide who lives in an OG tiny house. And by OG, I mean the original tiny house. The one that was the tiny house before tiny houses were a thing, before “minimalists” had made millions selling you things you didn’t need, before youtube had documentaries about tiny houses and the van life hashtag hadn’t existed. He more or less lives out of his car which is a Jeep because getting places is important.
I didn’t say anything when he sat on the floor, just took a mental note. Then another and another as he consistently sat on the floor.
This idea of being uncomfortable takes no more than a quick internet search to show that it has been documented, researched and agreed upon that it is good for you and as that white-shirted man told me, promotes personal growth. Yet, almost everything we do is an effort to be comfortable, stable and routine. Our living boxes are climate controlled with a port to allow our coffins in and out without interacting with real temperatures. We have a seemingly unlimited supply of hot water which should make you feel kingly (the hot tub in my backyard is referred to as the Pharoah’s Bath) but also question what you are missing becase of that ease.
When the Mooseknuckler Cycling Alliance Social Lounge was upgraded to version 2.0, we got a new sofa. Actually, we got two. The one directly in front of the fire place has a butt print imbedded in the carpet in front of it, on the right side from sitter’s view. I don’t know why, but sitting on the ground has become my comfortable. Our green sofa isn’t worn out yet, but sofas tend to be designed to be sat in, not against, so I’m keeping a close eye on the front of it.
P. L. and R.
