Comfort is a state of mind
There is a distinct difference between enduring discomfort and learning how to actually live inside it.
Tonight at Urban Sanctuary, the studio was dialed up to a swampy, unrelenting heat. The air was so dense with humidity that every breath felt like drinking steam. Over the years, I’ve learned how to stay calm when the temperature climbs—how to let the heat loosen tight corners of my body while still honoring my limits. When I grabbed my ankles for Bow pose, my thighs pushed back hard, and the moment I transitioned into Downward Dog, my lower back politely whispered, “Thank you, but absolutely not.” So I backed off a millimeter. I didn’t run from the room; I just adjusted my stance and sat in the sweat.
As sweat dripped off the tip of my nose with nowhere to cool down, I couldn’t help but think about how rare that tolerance is. I pictured Jon in that same room, immediately throwing his hands up, declaring it unbearable, and bolting for the door. It’s the exact same instinct that made people refuse masks during the height of COVID: an utter refusal to sit with even a temporary physical inconvenience.
Most people treat discomfort like a personal attack.
I’ve had to make peace with it. The night before, I went to an outdoor sound bath in a park I couldn’t easily navigate in the dark. The skies opened up, the rain poured, and I spent the hour lying on a waterlogged mat with a soaking wet blanket. Yet, right there in the damp chill, I found stillness. Serenity isn’t the absence of discomfort; it’s the quiet decision to breathe through the mess.
The hardest part isn’t the physical heat or the rain, though. It’s navigating it with people. How many times have I dimmed my own light—retreating into myself the moment I sense someone thinks I’m “too loud,” “too much,” or taking up too much space—just to protect their fragile comfort? How many friendships have fractured because someone chose their immediate ease over keeping a promise, showing up when things got hard, or doing the messy work of being a real friend?
Growth doesn't happen in the temperature-controlled easy spaces. It happens when you’re soaked, sweating, stretched to your edge, and still brave enough to stay in the room.
