Kill Comfort

I write this on day 2 of a 3 day juice fast. Just raw, cold-pressed juice for 3 days.

It’s not long enough that I can pledge my allegiance to any of the various corners of the internet dedicated to long, arduous fasts.

It’s just long enough to reset my taste buds, to rekindle my affection for taste without heaps of sugar, salt, and artificial enhancement.

This affection is easily lost in a world where consumption—unique, look-at-me, often frivolous consumption—signifies well-being (if excess can be called well-being).

This affection is easily lost with comfort always on our plates, always within an arm’s reach.

And that’s another side of my juice fast, away from the biological changes in taste, appetite, and preference.

It’s about comfort.

It’s about Killing Comfort.

Because comfort is always lurking, eager to drown the birth-given responsibility we have to do something noble, courageous. Courage is putting yourself in difficult situations and trusting your best self to step up and take it on.

If you’ve made it this far, if you rock Wicked Trail gear, you’re likely someone who practices courage.

And you ought to!

The other avenue is full of self-loathing, pity, and regret (just look around at most other people). It’s a world full of “what ifs” and “maybes.” It’s blaming luck and opportunity for the success of others, and imagining yourself special and unique for suffering (hint: nobody is special because of they suffer).

If you detest courage, if you push away difficult opportunities to test your best self, if you lean on artificial sensation and all these society-prescribed avenues toward happiness, your spirit and child-like wonder will rot and perish.

And we all need spirit, we all need that child-like wonder.

Adults need to ask themselves what’s possible; they need to climb, run, and swim—explore! They need to move away from mediocrity of mind, complacency of effort.

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It is such a tragedy that men and women are not in touch with their bodies, their minds, and the natural world’s relation to these.

Mountains, grass, trees, trails.

Rain, wind, snow, lightning.

Sensation.

Discomfort.

Nature working against you.

Kill Comfort.

It’s your only chance.

It’s your only chance to breathe deeply and know you are alive, not a brain-dead zombie drinking a pot of coffee to make it through work, and pouring a drink to numb the day’s happenings into a smiley blur. It’s your only chance to truly participate in courage, that test to put your best self forward. It’s your only chance to transcend the unspecial, mortal suffering we all participate in.

Kill Comfort.

Breathe deeply. Practice courage. Transcend your excuses, regrets, apprehensions, and anxieties.

Make them bleed.

Make them pay for their insistence on a life less-than-lived.

They thrive—fester—the longer you bask in comfort—soft couch, big TV, too much food, stimulants and depressants.

How long have you been sitting there?

Draw your sword.

Lace your boots.

Go to war.

Kill Comfort.

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