Here is a small scene from ‘Airplane’. Disaster is yet to strike and a stewardess is attending to the passengers. She approaches a middle aged couple:
‘Would either of you like another cup of coffee?’
‘Would either of you like another cup of coffee?’
The wife says:
‘I will, but Jim won't.’
However, Jim pipes up with:
‘I think I will have another cup of coffee.’
His wife is troubled and the audience benefits from her thoughts:
‘Jim never has a second cup at home…’
It’s a terrible omen. Jim is out of his routine. The end is nigh.
In ‘Airplane’, Jim has the security of an inflatable co-pilot. If only life were like that. We create comfort zones and think they are airbags. Therefore, when Jim makes his portentous request, we sense he is stretching a comfort zone. One day he is ordering a second cup of coffee, the next he is inventing allotment jazz and passionately unearthing turnips. We feel the wife’s anxiety because we know our comfort zones can define our identity.
Not convinced?
OK, I will be as honest as possible and try to communicate how I am defined by one of my comfort zones. Hopefully the insight can provoke some sort of internal recognition in the reader and we can start a trend to challenge our comfort zones. Or, maybe the preceding sentence is just idealistic bollocks and this is pure self indulgence. Either way, for better or worse, come along for the ride. Please keep your arms in the car, don’t stand up and try not to scream.
You see, dear rider, I avoid groups if they have a rigid sense of hierarchy. I can’t handle them. I’m a gregarious person and I love social groups but if there is a whiff of structure, I start to feel nauseous. It explains (partly) why after 8 years’ work in an office, I earned only a minimal promotion and, for two years, found myself working in an independent role. Likewise, when I volunteered for a committee in a charity, my initial interest quickly waned as I sensed its politics.
It suits me to make my living playing cards, not carrying them. The poker table is a gathering of individuals who will compete against each other and I am comfortable joining that group because no one brings any privileges to the table. I find it quite liberating.
You see, dear rider, I avoid groups if they have a rigid sense of hierarchy. I can’t handle them. I’m a gregarious person and I love social groups but if there is a whiff of structure, I start to feel nauseous. It explains (partly) why after 8 years’ work in an office, I earned only a minimal promotion and, for two years, found myself working in an independent role. Likewise, when I volunteered for a committee in a charity, my initial interest quickly waned as I sensed its politics.
It suits me to make my living playing cards, not carrying them. The poker table is a gathering of individuals who will compete against each other and I am comfortable joining that group because no one brings any privileges to the table. I find it quite liberating.
As Eric Berne, a transactional psychiatrist wrote:
‘Each person designs his own life. Freedom gives him the power to carry out his own designs and power gives him the freedom to interfere with the desires of others.’
Poker affords me a healthy dose of the former and I do not crave the latter. However, the theory’s wording is suspect. ‘Interfere’ is a negative spin on leadership. Politics within a group maybe depressing, stressful and divisive, but my inability to deal with it deprives me of the pleasure of interdependence. It also makes me reluctant to join Facebook.
It is a great example of how avoidance of transitory stress can impair an individual’s life. It’s my mental conditioning. I’ll bring back our friend Eric Berne again:
‘The destiny of every human being is decided by what goes on inside his skull when is he is confronted with what goes on outside his skull’.
It’s a thought that can seem either deeply profound or achingly simplistic, probably depending on how often you are getting laid. For now, and possibly revealing the frequency of my sexual encounters, let’s assume it’s the former. I see a group: my head tells me to avoid it.
The positive spin would be because, as Berne has it, I don’t want anyone to have the freedom to interfere with my desires. The negative take is that I lack the drive to positively influence society. I’m preserving my emotional responses and not benefiting from meeting new boundaries. Its only benefit is a life free from mild anxiety.
But comfort zones are understandable. We have a biological imperative to feel on familiar territory before we can meet our basic needs. We just take it too far. As children we play, we take risks and sometimes end up with grazed knees. We learn that the bruise is a temporary blemish which doubles as a badge of honour, proving we are not afraid of the playground. In stable homes, we are happy to have new experiences because we are still being tucked up in bed.
As comfort zone adults, we have to assume the foetal position without a bedtime story and aware of the existence of James Blunt. No wonder the childhood joy of creating imaginary friends can become the adult misery of having irrational fears. Why add to them by having the stress of new encounters?
‘Each person designs his own life. Freedom gives him the power to carry out his own designs and power gives him the freedom to interfere with the desires of others.’
Poker affords me a healthy dose of the former and I do not crave the latter. However, the theory’s wording is suspect. ‘Interfere’ is a negative spin on leadership. Politics within a group maybe depressing, stressful and divisive, but my inability to deal with it deprives me of the pleasure of interdependence. It also makes me reluctant to join Facebook.
It is a great example of how avoidance of transitory stress can impair an individual’s life. It’s my mental conditioning. I’ll bring back our friend Eric Berne again:
‘The destiny of every human being is decided by what goes on inside his skull when is he is confronted with what goes on outside his skull’.
It’s a thought that can seem either deeply profound or achingly simplistic, probably depending on how often you are getting laid. For now, and possibly revealing the frequency of my sexual encounters, let’s assume it’s the former. I see a group: my head tells me to avoid it.
The positive spin would be because, as Berne has it, I don’t want anyone to have the freedom to interfere with my desires. The negative take is that I lack the drive to positively influence society. I’m preserving my emotional responses and not benefiting from meeting new boundaries. Its only benefit is a life free from mild anxiety.
But comfort zones are understandable. We have a biological imperative to feel on familiar territory before we can meet our basic needs. We just take it too far. As children we play, we take risks and sometimes end up with grazed knees. We learn that the bruise is a temporary blemish which doubles as a badge of honour, proving we are not afraid of the playground. In stable homes, we are happy to have new experiences because we are still being tucked up in bed.
As comfort zone adults, we have to assume the foetal position without a bedtime story and aware of the existence of James Blunt. No wonder the childhood joy of creating imaginary friends can become the adult misery of having irrational fears. Why add to them by having the stress of new encounters?
It’s crazy isn’t it? One comfort zone, when unraveled and dissected, is revealed to have such a wide ranging effect on one’s life. I remain, in my little one man boat, calmly drifting along, reluctant to change course in case I encounter clouds. I may as well be lying on the base of the boat, with my arms crossed, eyes closed and a coin on my tongue.
Well, gawd darnit, it’s time to uncross my arms, open my eyes and wake up to smell the second cup of coffee. Hell, I might even remove the coin before I drink. The battle against my comfort zones has started and this particular journey is over. We have a repeat offer, which is half price and guarantees the same ride. However, I suggest you try the rest of the theme park.
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