This essay gives my belated response to my friend’s ten-year-old daughter who must have turned eleven by now. When mother and daughter visited us in Tasmania last year, my husband and I were planning to move back to Perth. Of the few travel options, we had once toyed with the idea of driving, and even took the trouble of placing an order for a seven-seater so we could make a car journey with our three dogs. We were, of course, aware of the challenges of crossing Tasman Sea and covering a distance of over four thousand kilometres. A long car journey with three domesticated animals that are used to indoor living wouldn’t be easy. The thought of finding accommodations that are pet-friendly made one’s head spin. Most important of all, we were not even sure if we would enjoy the trip. I laid out our plans anyway, and they listened with interest. If my friend had said anything, I can’t say I remember. It was her daughter who asked whether there was any alternative way. We told her that both our dogs and we could choose to fly, though not necessarily on the same flight. She then phrased a question which was essentially her contention that flying was a better choice. She asked us ‘What’s wrong with comfort?’. At that time, it sounded more like an exclamation than a question. She was spot on. Although we did not further discuss the matter, we almost immediately abandoned the idea of driving across the deserts. Looking back, I think we had made a right decision since a road trip involved too many steps, and hence more risks. I can’t be sure if we would have acted differently if we did not have to travel with our dogs. Nevertheless, her question stuck in my mind, and here I attempt to explore it in a more philosophical manner.
So, without referring to a particular context, can there be anything wrong with comfort? If so, what can possibly be wrong with it? We all like to have a small comfort such as a cuppa or a glass of wine, a spa or a massage, a shopping spree or a short trip as a reward for our hard work. It is only natural to have some comfort food at the end of a long day. It helps relieve us from our everyday stress. Knowing that a few comforts are in wait for us when we finish our job keeps us going. If we see work as negative and comfort as positive, then a state of balance will be achieved when the two are put together. Even if we do not achieve happiness, we should at least feel contented. But what happens when we have too many comforts and too much non-work time? Will there be an imbalance in life? For me, there are three drawbacks, all of which lead to the same direction—unhappiness.
Imagine living in luxury without the burden of work. It sounds like a dream come true. All day long, you can do whatever you like as long as it is not work, whether it is paid or unpaid. We need not worry about household chores such as cooking and gardening. I am sure most of us will enjoy our first week, and even the first few months. It is like you are on holiday, one that never ends. Those who have had long holidays before will perhaps recall how excited you were at the beginning when experiences were new and places of visit were exotic. But as your holiday continued, you might find it difficult to get the same level of satisfaction. It would be difficult not to feel bored at times. This is exactly what I anticipate: a life with no work commitments but only comforts is sheer boredom. A life with no purpose will drive most people crazy.
It is not an exaggeration to say that a person who only experiences comforts and no hardships in life is most unfeeling towards other people’s needs. We cannot really blame someone for not feeling for others if she is constantly surrounded by conveniences and good fortune. By the same logic, I do not think a person living in poverty will find solace in talking to a billionaire. How can you make someone who has a lot of money understand its value? When the world is made up of a majority who enjoy comforts only once in a while, I feel sorry for the so-called fortunate few whose abundance would bring them a life of alienation and loneliness. Why do I say so? I think most people don’t have much imagination when it comes to things they do not have any experience with. A lack of discomfort in life makes it difficult for someone to wonder what it’s like to drag her feet in the cold, rainy weather, or labour in hunger, or pray for bodily pain to subside. To experience discomfort is to experience real life, the life of most, if not all people, and thus humanity.
The third drawback of having only comfort in life perhaps only applies to people like me who expresses herself by means of letters, art, or music. As a writer, I can, of course, write to glorify life, but no great works are about happiness in life and nothing else. I would very much hope you can shed some light on this if you happen to know any such work. Looking back at my own writings, they all took place when I was most unhappy or anxious or upset with life. When I am happy and feeling content, I’d rather do anything but writing. I am not saying that writers or artists just moan about life (maybe we do), but we tend to be more sensitive towards adversities in life and have the compulsion to express ourselves in hard times. To put simply, discomforts in life enhances creativity.
Having said what I want to say, I can see my eleven-year-old friend scratching her head, not understanding why she should read something like this. The writer has to be out of her mind to glorify discomfort and sufferings. Please don’t get me wrong. I am not against comfort in life. In fact, I am planning to have a small indulgence by opening a bottle of wine to go with my dinner soon. While this small comfort gives me short-term satisfaction, I also bear in mind that there is still work to do, duties to fulfill, and pain to bear in due course. A moment of enjoyment gives me temporary relief over many other things that I do not have much control. We need comfort to counterbalance the negative energies which are never short in supply. This is how I see comfort in life.