Note: the following is a collaboration between myself and my teammate and friend, Jordan Alessi. Enjoy!
I’ve hit a wall. Not only do I have writers block, but the honeymoon phase of the Race is now over. It’s the end of month six, and I’ve become uncomfortably comfortable with my life again. The adrenaline-like emotional high that accompanied my first five months has not only faded, it has sprinted in the opposite direction. I mean come on… look at me: I’m sitting in a cushiony chair in an air conditioned hostel called “Peaches.” (Peaches!!) To my left? A bathroom with hot water on demand, a washing machine… toilet paper!!! To my right: the most B E A Utiful girl in the entire galaxy called the Milky Way. How comfy is that? I am in a galaxy named after a candy bar. And just to clarify, that beautiful girl is my teammate Andi, and we are collaborating on this blog post together.
Ok. Back to complaining about my uncomfortable comfortability. #firstworldprobbbssss.
Why so many extra non-essential letters? Because I have so much time on my hands that I can type whatever I want. I am literally DROWNING in free time. To myself. Alone. In comfort. I am literally so comfortable that I am BORED.
It’s not just physical comfort I’m talking about; I am spiritually comfortable too. I’ve been stretching myself for six months, seeking God, and now I’m subconsciously comfortable with coasting. Ew. Do I want to be a person who seeks God during my free time, or someone who flushes it down the internet? Or worse, someone who only seeks God during those moments I deem “ministry time,” like hours at an office? Again. Ew.
Isn’t this trip supposed to be about sacrifices? …and SWEAT? What happened to all the sweat, World Race?! Why do I feel like I haven’t left the States yet?
I’m not saying I haven’t been working hard, because I surely have. I moved rocks for SIX MONTHS WITHOUT A BREAK. And got so used to it I now don’t know what to do with myself after the rocks have been moved. That’s a sad place to be.
It’s my fault. Comfort is pretty much a pseudonym for complacency. And complacency, as we all know, is self-inflicted. It’s a choice to be complacent. I think perhaps that’s what makes me more frustrated than anything. I keep waiting for for a change-inflicting experience to slap me in the face… but sometimes it’s more subtle than that. What do you do when you’re surrounded by all the luxuries of home—are you supposed to just ignore all that? That’s like embracing the Amish way of life: “I know iPods and leather seats and hover crafts all exist, but I’m going to ignore them so I can live a more wholesome life.” But… they do have a point. Discipline.
We were told by our former squad leaders that the months without internet, without screens, and far from the normalcies of American life were the best months of their Race. We all, of course, scoffed at the idea because, I mean, who wouldn’t want constant internet and hot water and super-cushy mattresses? But… I’m beginning to see the value in unplugging. If having everything I ever wanted leads me to complacency, leads me to boredom, leads me to a willingly stagnant state, something has to change. I’m hoping and praying for God to devastate me, shake up my World (Race), and remind me the importance of being all-in with whatever I do.
So goodbye, comfortable, stagnant, life-sucking, moldy, festering state of mind. You’re going down. I’m roundhouse kicking you in the jawbone.
HIYAAAAA!
So thanks for the hospitality, Europe. It’s been super sweet. It’s certainly helped show me what I’m made of (i.e. milky ways and online comedy sites). But it’s also given me a great kick in the rear, and jump-started my pursuit of, not the good life, but the better life.
