Choosing Between Comfort and Adventure

Choosing Between Comfort and Adventure

Sep 27, 2021

I had a dream about two men.

One man was warm and comforting. Although at times he was reserved and quiet, he gave me support and strength.

The second man was exciting and passionate. He was always floating from one place to the next, but there was a vibrancy in him and a zest for life that had died in the souls of the rest of the world. He lived fully and unapologetically.

I wanted to be him. So I chose him over the man of comfort.

But I realized quickly that a life of excitement was a costly life. Yes, the second man was full of life, but it cost him his privacy, his time of solitude, and - at times - his personal freedoms. He had many promises to keep, always something to do, and no time to himself.

My heart sank at this realization, and I left to return to the man of comfort.

But he was gone. He wasn't interested in being second choice to a great man of passion, and so he left me to my own consequences of pursuing excitment.

I think about this dream a lot. At first, I took it literally - since I had affections for someone at the time - but then I took it metaphorically as a symbol of the quiet life versus the passionate life.

I moved to Korea four years ago to fulfill my childhood dream of living in another country while writing books. I can gladly say that my dreams came true. I'm grateful. But this life is nothing as I expected. The comforts of community, family, and a sizable income are gone. But a life of possibilities, creativity, and adventure are available to me at all times.

In my dream, I was forced to go back to my man of passion and excitement since the man of comfort was no longer available. I didn't finish the dream, but something in me tells me that the ending is probably not as bad as it sounds. Although a life of passion and excitement is exhausting, it's also fulfilling. No, it wasn't anything as I had expected. I wish for comfort on many days.

But I know deep down that a quiet, comfortable life wouldn't push me to my limits. I wouldn't know my true capabilities. My wings would have stay folded up in the back of my closet, collecting dust.

But in a life of passion, they are fully extended. They're weary... but I'm using them.

Maybe we should all have the blessing of comfort rejecting us. If nothing more but to see what our wings look like fully spread - to feel that fire of life that might have died in us otherwise.

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