A Comfort Zone is a Wonderful Thing—But You Never Want to Live There

 

By Robert Butler

A comfort zone is a wonderful, even a blessed thing.

And like an addictive drug, there is danger if we get too dependent on it! I was never comfortable with the fact that I do not fit within most people’s comfort zones. As someone who never quite fit in as a kid, I had perceptions and realizations at an age where most kids were still trying to figure out how to tie their shoes, and every attempt I made to share these realizations had my audience peering at me quizzically like the RCA dog—with a tilted head, and wondering just what the heck I was talking about.

Even my older brother and sister would look at me and just say, “Oh, you’re so crazy!” when I would complain to my mother, she would also verify their observations by saying “Sure, we know. The whole world is crazy and you’re sane!” This had a devastating impact on a four or five-year-old.

After all, at that age, our parents are like God to us.

Gradually, I began to retreat within myself and no longer shared my realizations with anybody. A lifetime of pain and disconnect thus began, where I was convinced that I did not belong, and feeling I was getting no love from home only exacerbated those beliefs. Yet somehow or other, I could achieve extraordinary things, though never within the normal paradigm, and although I recognized the gift, I got almost no joy from it.

I did have a few close friends, though; people I could relate with who seemed like me.

That soon became the only criteria for who could be my friend. Yes, it seemed misery did love company! I also grew up very angry, the product of an abusive father and a disconnected mother. That both were severe alcoholics, only exacerbated this. The fact that I was born two months premature—in an age when such prematurity was no guarantee of survival—also contributed.

After the drama of spending three weeks in an incubator, only to return to a hostile household also contributed. Dr. Gabor Mate has expounded in detail how the first seven years of childhood, the trauma experienced forms the adult psyche, and creates some of the addictive personalities and dysfunctions that we see going unhealed throughout society.

“If you get the first three years right,” he said, “you can pretty much relax. If you get those three years wrong, you will be practicing remedial parenting for the rest of your life.”

In 1950s and ‘60s America, this idea was not even on the radar with American parents, nor would it likely have found a receptive audience amongst them, at a time when Dr. Spock, Ann Landers and other popular psychologists of the day were dispensing their theories in books and newspapers.

As time went on, I began to see how I remained different from just about everyone I knew; my intellect was in dire need of answers, and I didn’t see things as others saw them, yet my reality felt right to me. Expressing it, however, was another matter.

Nobody seemed to want to hear me. I found some sanctuary in art and music—I also exuberantly played the drums, on which I could beat out my frustrations with alarming ferocity for such a small child. Music was my refuge. It satisfied my brain’s quest for complex and interesting rhythms and melodies, and deeply moved my heart. Much of the music I was attracted to though, was completely beyond most of my friends.

I could see both sides of many situations, including things that that seemed obvious to most people, but who were completely unaware that the opposite also existed simultaneously. Generally, whenever somebody would make a blanket statement, I would counter with the word “but,” and then try to explain to them why they’re idea was incomplete. This did not win me many friends growing up. That I was the product of an Italian “perpetrator” father, and a Hungarian-Jewish “victim” mother only exacerbated the dichotomy within me.

As a teenager I became more and more reclusive, ultimately taking shelter of drink and drugs to stem the tide of negative thoughts and emotions that continually plagued me.

This eventually became my comfort zone; simply unplug the brain and veg out either in front of the television, blasting rock and roll, with a joint or alcohol, or more likely, both. It has been rightly said that a comfort zone is nice, but nothing ever grows there.

My perception of an altered reality became even more anchored in my psyche because of my conclusion that I absolutely did not fit in with society.

As a result, I sought out alternative forms of spirituality that were not recognized in the mainstream in the early 1970s, when many of my generation were getting high with LSD, the books of Alan Watts and Richard Alpert (Ram Dass: Be Here Now), some even embracing the philosophies of Autobiography of a Yogi, or other such tomes. It was not until I struggled with all of those that I realized I didn’t fit in in those circles either!

What could I do?

My inability to fit in either with the conventional society or the counter-culture led me too even more esoteric brands of spirituality. Fortunately, when I was 17 years old, I encountered a person who enlightened me and opened my eyes to what would eventually become my enduring spiritual path. This person was obviously even more on the outside than myself, and what I learned from him eventually led to me joining a Krishna Ashram when I was 19 years old.

I was happy, though clearly not a monk. However, the realizations I experienced reading Bhagavad-Gita, Sri Isopanishad, Bhagavat Purana and other Sanskrit writings translated into English by the Vaishnava saint who would eventually become my guru (His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada) penetrated not only my stubborn intellect, but also my very hardened heart. And without a doubt, the unconditional, oceanic love I felt coming from him were deeply profound, unlike any I had previously experienced.

Unfortunately, he only remained in this world another 16 months before departing in the holy land of Vrindavan, India in November 1977.

Almost immediately, the movement became fractured, and I left the monastery to help my mother deal with the death of my stepfather. Re-entering the external world was not easy and I felt just as outside of it as before. A 20-year tailspin ensued, in which I took shelter again of the only other medications that seemed to have any effect—alcohol and drugs; a certain pathway to degraded life.

The Lakota people have a revered character in their midst called the heyoka.

He (or she) is a contrarian yet is a medicine man (or woman) of astonishing insights, empathy and unconventional wisdom. Frequently misunderstood, their wisdom is sometimes counted upon by the chiefs to make tribal decisions.

They think and behave “outside the box.” They take strong inspiration from Great Spirit above, Mother Earth below, and can communicate with trees, plants, and animals. They are keenly in touch with the wisdom of the Earth. They are typically solitary by nature and usually do not take a spouse. Yet even though completely non-conformist, they are accepted and revered by the wise ones and elders of the tribe.

As if to put a punctuation mark on this article, the day after I finished it, I got a call from the landlord of the home I had lived in for over 20 years to say that I had 60 days to clear out. The rent had been so reasonable for so long, that now there was no way I could afford to continue live in this beautiful little town I had chosen over 24 years ago. It seems regarding me at least; the universe has little tolerance for words without action.

Had I been a younger man, that would have been an easier task than trying to do so with a large house containing a a spiritual retreat, two offices, as well as living spaces. I did not even know where I could move to and asking friends for help is also outside of my comfort zone.

So, my journey into the unknown continues! Take heart if you feel like you don’t fit in and share the opinions of the masses. You are in some pretty good company. It is likely not comfortable for you to be there (you could take some comfort in knowing it is likely not comfortable for anyone else, either).

And although it may not be within our comfort zone, it is essential that the gifts we receive from there as modern day heyokas, are shared for everyone’s benefit—as well as our own.

 

 

Even as a child, Robert Butler was fascinated with the nature of consciousness. A practitioner of Bhakti Yoga and committed vegetarian since the age of 17, he embarked on a lifelong journey to help himself and others uncover the mysteries of life. After living in an ashram in his late teens through his mid 20s, he traveled extensively, and delved deeply into personal growth and healing work. For thirty years, he ran a San Diego based nonprofit that supported several Bhakti Yoga ashrams and sustainable farm communities. He is an author, spiritual counselor, and senior staffer with the ManKind Project, as well as a mentor with the Boys to Men Mentoring Network. He lives in Alachua, Florida.

 

Photo: Pixabay

Editor: Dana Gornall

 

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