Comfort Zone

My comfort zone houses a garden, a cat, a lot of books, dark chocolate, Jamaican coffee, and Chardonnay.  Oh, and Internet access.  (What?  You thought I eschewed technology?)  A major ingredient is missing from my zone, and that, I'm sure you know, is my big old Golden Retriever, Mack.  I am still trying to adapt to that loss.  The Chardonnay helps.

I do make brief departures from my zone, to travel to far-off places.  I can do this because I know that the times when I remove myself from security are time-sensitive.  If I am going to Iceland, for instance, I know I will be back home in six days.  It's a temporary departure.  Not like I'm selling my house or anything.

We all have our comfort zones, and we are all constantly being told to step out of them.  Some of us do.  Others (and I know many of them) will never do so.  It's sometimes a choice, but not always.  I know that my comfort zone has changed over the years.  There are things within it now (like living alone) that I, at one time, would not have been able to imagine.  It's no biggie now.  It's become comfortable.  Driving long distances by myself is another.  The first time I did that, I stepped out of the zone.  The next time, it was part of the zone.

I think I might be stepping out of my comfort zone again.  I would not be foolish enough to elaborate at this point, but I've been having a lot of heavy conversations with myself of late.  Which provoked a need to write about it.

So let's just say that I love my comfort zone.  And I am seriously considering leaving it, if for no other reason than to expand it.  Isn't that just a lovely consequence?