Afflicted Comfort

Santa Rita Mountains Sunrise

I'm enjoying a family visit with my sister and brother-in-law.  They have a beautiful home with a splendid mountain view in southern Arizona.  It's such a comfortable setting and to be with them for a few days is a true gift.  What I'm realizing, however, is that I have become so accustomed to my own setting and routine that being out of it feels a bit uncomfortable.  In this very comfortable, lovely setting how and why do I feel a bit discomforted?  Is it possible that subconsciously we occasionally seek discomfort?  How much comfort; what degree of comfort is too much?  Is it even possible to become too comfortable? I suppose, if it leads to complacency.  

I recall attempting to define my purpose in a previous vocation by quoting Finley Peter Dunne.  Dunne was a newspaper columnist in the early 20th century who, while describing the role of newspapers, said it was the paper's job to "comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."  When we are afflicted we long for comfort.  When we are too comfortable, which comes in varying degrees, we probably stand in need of affliction.  But to embrace that places us in the never-ending cycle of afflicted comfort.  For today I'll embrace that ambiguity and reside there.