Do You Have A License For Your Comfort Zone?

Once upon a time not so long ago, we feared every time we stepped out of our cave. Later, our village. Now, our comfort zone. Oh we have them, all right. Each of us has gradually constructed them for our protection. Part fears, part lies; part desires, part dreams; part this book and that pundit.

We each live in our zones as snugly and safely as we can make them. After all, out there we have dinosaurs of terrifying new cultures and demons of frighteningly different people. The cast of terrors changes every few decades. But fear not, there is always someone to fear. At one time the British! the Red Man! the Confederates! the Yanks! the Huns! the Nazis! the Reds! Hussein! Ben Ladin!

It would appear our personal and national comfort zones are forever under assault. By those whose fundamental crime is their “otherness.” Right now Iranians fill the bill perfectly. But here at home, some of us have our own President as an “otherness” unlike anyone else who has ever held that office with violent Muslim blood out to bring our civilization down. [These folks have a good many allies in Washington, in the gun-toting survivalist communities out west, and on Fox News. But that is another story for another time].

Still, those threats to our comfort zones are at least visible. Say like the tribal marauders, ocean pirates, and highway men of old. But damn, if now the threats have gone under the radar. Consider for instance an entirely new breed of — the hacker. These faceless, conscienceless enemies are everywhere. But then so are our security cameras and GPS satellites standing against them. Toe to toe…technology to technology…the hubris of the hacker vs the hubris of the state.

You sometimes get the feeling your little comfort zone offers very little comfort anymore. We crouch in it — playing with our computers and their ubiquitous offspring — giving our attention to only what we want to, hoping no one notices us in here. At least not the bad guys.

But then who exactly is the bad guy? The cave man and the villager at one time understood the rules of the game. These days the rules keep changing. The faces keep altering. The plot keeps shifting. Our wondrous widgets here inside our comfort zones….? To our great discomfort, we soon realize they can only report the dangers; they can’t repair them.

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  • "To our great discomfort, we soon realize they can only report the dangers; they can't repair them." .... True Jack for we are indeed so hoping for a "Maytag" world where the repairs are seldom needed ... yet we know that we live in a world of 'friction' where things eventually fall apart of their own construct/design ... our planned obsolescence has made us a society of the perpetuated "one-horse shay" in all dimensions. Who does not seek a place without fear and angst … increasingly that is a rare commodity found mostly in mental withdrawal from the ‘terrors’ so greedily fixated upon and expounded about in the polyglot of media systems … Despite this reality there is some promise available for a Geezer to maintain a small ‘Comfort Zone’ … he makes his life a daily exercise in the ‘unregulated’ practice of gratitude for what tender mercies are at hand … and what ‘Comfort’ comes from being a help rather than hindrance to the peaceful lives desired by my fellow humans … A good week to you ‘Bard of Chicago’!

  • In reply to Geezer:

    ...and to your Bard of all-things-Canadian! I see and read about your comfort zone, and think you have a big edge on many of us. To be so close to the earth...to the frontier...to one another in a tight little community...damn if it doesn't sound a little like Walden Pond with an Arctic flair

  • In reply to Jack Spatafora:

    Thoreau has indeed influenced where we are and to a degree the choices we have made in lifestyle my dear friend Jack ... I have found no part to complain regarding Thoreau's guidance ... however to truly deserve the plaudit of having an 'Arctic Flair' entails moving 1000 km further north of where we reside - [Brrrrr!] ... hence we will content ourselves with having a 'Boreal Bookmark' - closer to home - and warmer by far than the reaches of Robert W. Service's frigid paradise ...

  • You're right...I get hyperbolic at times...it's just so much fun

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