What Happens at the Edge of Comfort?
Updated: Oct 5
I am human, as are you.
This blog is a vow into the uncertainty, messiness and childlike curiosity of my experience, as we all travel across space and time on this human journey.
With this in mind, I have chosen not to use the perfection of the algorithm to polish my words, thoughts or interpretations. These are thoughts lived through both personally and professionally.
Where to begin?
As a child, I wandered through many paths, piqued with curiosity by the outside world.
Very early, I found dance and movement. For a young boy growing up in the 90s, this was a little “different”.
Perhaps you can resonate with your own natural childhood interests, before the world told you that these weren't productive enough to continue with.
An inquiry for now.
What parts of you were most alive as a child? And which of those have you left behind?
Now, 25 years later, I am dancing in the in-between spaces. The flux between certain and uncertain. As a human guide, I offer support and act as a conduit for others to move through.
The interesting paradox for me in the helping space is the movement between risk and safety.
In my own life and work, I have seen how too much risk can stretch us beyond what we can hold. We can feel untethered.
The other side of the same coin is safety, a word that holds immense profundity and individual meaning.
Safety is influenced by how we feel in our bodies and how we perceive ourselves and the world at large. Our cultural background and life story also shape how safe we actually feel in the present moment.
So, what does “actually safe” mean?
This distinction is often unexamined. Someone can objectively be relatively safe while their body signals danger.
Our past can press into our present. Through challenging life experiences, the brain can also learn that safety is attained even when the circumstances contain genuine risk.
When we work with safety and risk, discernment becomes a resource. It creates the possibility of choice in each moment.
Can I feel in my body and mind that I have enough capacity to stretch myself? Or, in this moment, do I need to access more safety?
As we encounter life's inevitable losses, grief and rudderless states, we can cling to safety like the mask we are told to reach for on an aircraft.
Yet, unless examined with curiosity, can our pursuit of safety itself become an attachment or a fixed identity?
To grow, change, adapt and self-actualise, safety is a cornerstone.
But when does safety begin to prevent growth? Who determines what risk is useful and what is not?
Perhaps this isn't as simple as safety being good and stress being bad. Research suggests there may be a more nuanced relationship between stress and wellbeing.
A 2024 study of 2,022 adults examined people's reactions to everyday stressors and found a curved relationship.
Both very low and very high stress reactivity were associated with poorer outcomes, while moderate stress reactivity was associated with higher life satisfaction, lower psychological distress and fewer chronic conditions. The researchers framed this as a possible “Goldilocks zone” of stress.
We have all come across the elusive state of flow from time to time, whether consciously or not.
Spontaneity. Novelty. Challenge. Complete immersion.
There is something about these experiences that can draw us beyond the familiar and into a deeply felt mind-body experience.
In my own experience as a guide, human and explorer, this is where we can take a step into the unknown.
Safety and risk can both be present.
Perhaps this is where the edges of our experience can be explored and even enriched.
There are times when safety is the bedrock. We need enough of it to meet our deeply evolutionary human needs.
Yet there may also come a point where the uncomfortable choice point has to be known.
I prefer to hover in the choice point, in the unfixed balance of where comfort ends and discomfort begins.
We are drawn towards novelty and exploration, while also carrying a deep instinct for familiarity and survival.
Another paradox.
Perhaps the invitation isn't to abandon safety in pursuit of growth, but to become curious about your own edges.
What might happen if you stretched your capacity, even for a short time? And what part of that childlike curiosity might you find there?
Thank you for your presence, energy and time. From one human to another.
Ollie
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