My 7 Takeaways from The Comfort Crisis by Michael Easter

13 min readDec 15, 2024

Usually, if I come across a book that impresses me, I give it time before writing about it. This time, I am going to change things up and write about a book I read last month. In my view, The Comfort Crisis is a must-read for anyone, particularly urban dwellers who struggle to keep their brains (and bodies) from going nuclear under the influence of the never-ending barrage of stimulants and stressors.

The book was published in 2021, and I heard about it soon after. The premise was clear and I could, I thought, rattle off a few supportive arguments for the concept of comfort being bad for us without even reading the book. I felt no urgency to add it to my reading list. After all, I was on board. I even felt like through my preaching about leading a purposeful life, embracing challenges, and introducing adversity, the importance of reading, learning, and growth, and, of course, my non-stop talking about Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, I was also doing my part in promoting this very concept —trying to protect people from getting too comfortable.

Which is something that is easy to forget. Being on the receiving end of the news about Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan, Syria, and multiple other places where the situation is bad, it is easy to think that our lives are difficult. But try comparing our era to any previous period in human history. The technological advancements, including electricity, transportation, household appliances, medical technology, the abundance and variety of food available, advances in healthcare and hygiene, availability of clean water, incredible advances in communication, and access to information — all have definitively made things better, but also easier. It is fair to say that an average urban dweller today has a more comfortable life than Roman emperors and Arab Caliphs.

This is why it is also surprising for me to see people talk or write about how they wish they lived in medieval or ancient times. Are you serious? The idealization of simplicity and romanticization of what life must have been like betrays a lack of knowledge and understanding of some basic facts. Watching a movie or two, being overwhelmed by the complexity and fast life of modern life, and yearning for adventure and purpose can lead us to misguided thinking about this. People forget most people in history did not live beyond 30–40 years; child mortality was extremely high, life involved back-breaking physical labor, health, and hygiene were poor, medical practices were rudimentary or outright harmful, and violence and insecurity were everpresent. A human life used to be short and brutal.

This misguided escapism is a way to avoid addressing current challenges, but saying that everything is better now is also not entirely right. Yes, I would not want to live back then, and I prefer to live now. But the devil is in the detail. If by modern life we mean a desk job, lack of physical movement, limited time outside, poor sleep patterns, Netflix binging, and fast food — you can see where I’m going with this.

The truth is, we are, perhaps, too comfortable for our own good. This excessive comfort can have unintended consequences on our physical, mental, and emotional well-being. How to find that balance? How can we benefit from what modern life has to offer but not overdo it?

Start by picking up The Comfort Crisis. After reading it, I realize there is a lot more to this book than just the overall concept. I thoroughly recommend it, and here are my main takeaways:

Misogi — a unique challenge, a personal quest. As Easter explains, humans evolved to seek comfort. And that made perfect sense when there was very little of it back in the pre-historic days. Now, when we have too much of it, the abundance of comfort hurts us. Slowly. Insiduously. Think depression, anxiety, addiction, suicide. A new body of evidence shows that people are at their best — physically harder, mentally tougher, and spiritually sounder — after experiencing the same discomforts our early ancestors were exposed to daily. Discomfort training helps fix this. Through this approach, we can readjust the threshold for what we consider a problem. Think about the concept of “first world problems”. It is caused by the moving goalposts for what we consider a problem. We in developed countries complain about the things other people in places with a lot of hardship will laugh about. Easter argues that embracing discomfort — through physical challenges, environmental extremes, and mental discipline — can unlock greater resilience, creativity, and satisfaction in life and protect our physical and mental health. He cites a new body of evidence that shows that people are at their best — physically harder, mentally tougher, and spiritually sounder — after experiencing significant discomforts. While this always made sense to me, calling this Misogi is something Easter and his influences have come up with. Misogi is originally a Japanese purification practice. Purification happens through exposure to cold water, such as standing under a waterfall. Easter’s (or instead, Marcus Elliott’s) version of the challenge involves going out (typically into the wild) to undertake an arduous task that mimics our ancestors' daily challenges. Easter gives us two rules for misogi: Rule 1: Make it really hard. Rule 2: Don’t die. :) It is an exaggeration, but only by so much. Easter changes the concept of misogi from what it originally meant — into “an emotional, spiritual, psychological challenge that masquerades as a physical challenge.” A challenge with no obvious safety net. Something quirky, creative, uncommon. But the point is not to do something and then put it on Instagram. This is for you, not for others. You give it your all and barely make it, maybe even fail, but you are proud of your effort at the end and learn a bucketload of lessons in the process. This is precisely why activities such as hunting, mountain climbing, and hikes in the wild are becoming more and more popular. Humans instinctively seek these out. This is why people go for ultramarathons, triathlon challenges, and martial arts training. Obviously, you shouldn’t overdo it. Think of it as a continuum from comfort to adversity to trauma. Stop before you get to trauma. You must prepare thoroughly — the training and learning will completely change your perception of what is comfortable and eventually make you more stress-resistant. Misogi isn’t just about the physical feat — it’s about confronting uncertainty, discomfort, and vulnerability to discover your true potential. In terms of specific, actionable advice — you can try two things. 1) Introduce a regular, preferably physical, hardship into your life — my choice is Brazilian jiu-jitsu. 2) Consider setting a once-a-year, life-altering challenge for yourself — something that feels daunting and forces you to expand your boundaries. My preference for this is a BJJ competition. Pick what works for you and get on it.
Importance of Solitude. As Easter goes through his personal misogi in the form of a challenging trek through the wild — what he refers to as “the emergency wilderness medicine course,” he ends up spending a lot of time alone. He reflects on why people are happier in smaller communities and how urban life puts human beings in an environment with simply too many people around. Research by Satoshi Kanazawa suggests that overbuilt and overpopulated environments (which some researchers call landscape of despair) humans are less happy. Easter refers to the famous Dunbar number of 150 people, which is what a maximum community should be at. Beyond this number, communities are unsustainable. Easter takes the conversation further and explores environments with much less than 150 people around. Environments where there is no one else. Easter writes: “It is an interesting paradox. Despite the fact that people today are rarely alone, we are increasingly lonely.” We have become uncomfortable with solitude. And you can learn a lot about yourself if you spend time alone. Easter goes on to argue that our discomfort with solitude comes from the societal framing of solitude as punishment. But building our capacity to be alone can make interactions with other people richer and more meaningful. Easter follows by exploring the concept of boredom, which is another phenomenon we have grown to dislike. But boredom is not a bad thing. Without boredom, we are reaching new crisis levels of mental fatigue”. Our overstimulated selves need to rediscover boredom, ideally outdoors. Boredom pushes you to be creative as a counterweight to itself. To be curious. Stepping away from the constant noise of modern life — social media, emails, and notifications — can help us recalibrate. Boredom and solitude, especially in nature, can foster deep reflection and clarity, allowing us to reconnect with our goals and values. As a practice, it is useful to schedule regular periods of uninterrupted solitude, even if it’s just an hour or two, to reflect and recharge. The example I like is Bill Gates scheduling one week alone in a cabin in a forest to read and reflect.
Nature. Easter writes: “We evolved in nature, and therefore have programmed within our genes a need to be in and connect with nature and living things. If we don’t, we go a little haywire, as if we’re missing a necessary nutrient for our body, mind, and sense of self.” Remember Philip K.Dick’s dystopic Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, where characters engage in an almost desperate quest to obtain living animals as their numbers continue to diminish? Nature is an organic Xanax. The calming effect of spending even a little time in nature is a well-documented phenomenon. Research suggests that having plants in an office increases productivity and job satisfaction and that having a view of nature out of a hospital window helps people recover quicker. Japanese have a concept of shinrin-yoku which translates as “forest bathing”. A simple walk, preferably in nature, so you are engulfed in fractals and complex patterns, as opposed to the urban landscape, can have a massive, calming, and even transformational impact on your psyche. In today’s screen-obsessed world, we’ve lost our connection with the natural world. Immersing yourself in nature reduces stress, sharpens focus, and reminds you of your place in a larger ecosystem. In practice: 1) do a 20-minute walk three times a week, preferably in nature. 2) Spend at least one day a month outdoors, away from screens, and fully present in nature for a few hours. The wilder the nature, the better.
Quiet. Easter refers to Harvard anthropologist Daniel Lieberman, who explains that over time, humans have removed many of the sensory inputs from our environments. We don’t feel temperature change quite as much; we wear shoes, and we smell less. But our hearing is one sense bombarded with significantly more stimulants now than in ancient times. Humans evolved in quiet soundscapes. Quiet is important. Too much noise is, by design, creating stress in humans — after all, any loud stress was usually a sign of trouble. At least, that has been the case for millennia. But in recent times, we have grown to think of lack of noise as discomfort. We surround ourselves with more and more sounds, which affects us negatively. As humans are wired to think about loud noises as danger, we release adrenaline and cortisol, stress hormones. Easter mentions a fact I was not aware of — the world’s number one killer, heart disease, isn’t just a consequence of little movement and unhealthy diets. WHO found that the constant flow of decibels is among the key reasons for heart attacks. Even our hearing is affected; we can no longer hear the quiet sounds we used to. You can check this by spending a long time in nature; your hearing will be reset, and when back in a city, you will feel sharp discomfort due to noise. Another well-known fact is that listening to the natural sounds of water and wind reduces stress. So dedicate 5–10 minutes daily to complete silence — whether through meditation, sitting quietly in nature, or simply turning off all distractions. It may be oddly uncomfortable at first, but over time, this practice can improve focus and reduce stress.
Fasting. Humans have evolved in conditions of scarcity. Scarce shelter, scarce resources. Primarily — food. Today, our environment is the opposite — we consume too many calories. Food-producing companies now use science to create a perfect storm of ingredients and get us addicted to their products. Salt, sugar, fat, and spices, all added and mixed in quantities hitherto never encountered in nature. Modern food culture encourages constant snacking and indulgence, leading to health problems like obesity and chronic disease. Easter is careful first to try to dispel the myths and misunderstandings. Processed food is not automatically bad — food has always been processed for storage and transportation. “Hunting, foraging, and farming only go so far. It’s keeping food that’s hard.” He then introduces the first simple method for dealing with one’s diet — tracking it, particularly the calorie intake. Due to the Hawthorne effect, people will change their behavior when they know they are being watched, even if the watcher is none other than themselves. Easter talks about how scarcity shaped our food cravings, particularly for sweet, fatty, and salty foods. Interestingly, Easter does not preach any specific diet — his point is that the main thing is portion control, as opposed to the type of food you eat. Overall guidance is to focus on unprocessed whole grains and tubers, fruits and vegetables, and lowish-fat animal protein. He goes on to explain how having a healthy weight is the number one thing a person could do to prevent cancer and how caloric restriction is the best way to get there, ideally in combination with exercise. And how stopping to eat a few hours before bed makes sleep better. Easter then adds a critical insight — that we should allow the body to go 12 to 16 hours without caloric intake. Now, this is tough. Finally, Easter explores different methods of fasting. Conclusion: allowing yourself to feel hungry occasionally is not only safe but also beneficial.
Contemplate your death. Memento mori. Almost every good nonfiction book I read these days recommends something Stoic philosophers figured out centuries ago. This book is not an exception. Easter goes on a quest to explore why death is so prominent in cultures and traditions where happiness levels seem high. He looks at Bhutanese practices as well as modern research (such as Eastern Washington University’s findings that thinking about death enhances gratitude). He quotes what monks tell him: “You must be curious about your death. You must understand that you don’t know how you will die or where you will die. Just that you will die. And that death can come at any time.” Pondering about death is an essential part of the philosophy of Stoicism. The writings of Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius have plenty of references to this topic. This quote from Seneca is among my favorite: “Let us prepare our minds as if we’d come to the very end of life. Let us postpone nothing. Let us balance life’s books each day. The one who puts the finishing touches on their life each day is never short of time.” Easter’s main point is that life’s impermanence can be a motivator rather than a source of dread. We can spend a few moments each day reflecting on our mortality — whether through journaling, meditation or simply considering the finite nature of life. This awareness can help us focus on meaningful pursuits and relationships while letting go of trivial concerns.
Rucking. This is a very interesting concept for how to seamlessly introduce exercise into one’s day. Rucking is walking with a weighted backpack. Easter praises trucking as a simple yet highly effective practice for building physical and mental resilience. Rucking is not just a workout; it’s a return to a primal form of movement that humans have relied on for thousands of years. It combines cardio, strength training, and endurance into one activity while accessible to nearly everyone. Easter prefers rucking to, for example, running, which can ruin your knees. Humans have evolved for this kind of task — we can’t go very fast, but we can go very far while carrying a heavy load. Easter shares how the repetitive, rhythmic nature of walking under load can help quiet the mind, making it a perfect antidote to today’s overstimulated lifestyles. If you want to try this, start with a manageable weight (10–20% of your body weight) and incorporate rucking into your weekly routine. Whether it’s a hike in nature or a walk through your neighborhood, this practice can boost your fitness and clear your mind.

There you have it. After Easter’s adventure in the wilderness, which took him through all of the above points, he asked his wife how she thought the experience had changed him. The first thing she said was, “You’re almost impossible to rattle. Nothing seems to bother you now,” which makes sense since Easter’s baseline for what legitimate stress is has changed. As he describes it, “I was thinking less and noticing more. I sought more connection, silence, and solitude both at home and in nature. I spent less time in front of screens and was more of an active listener in conversations. I could see that my modern “problems” weren’t real problems.”

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Reading this book reminded me of something I heard Kobe Bryant once say. I am paraphrasing — when you set a goal, pick a challenging target that makes you say it’d be cool if I could do that. Not — for sure, I can do that. Then, focus on methodically chipping at it and trying to get better every day. That’s how you move forward. Embracing discomfort, the discomfort of hard work, the discomfort of all the failures along the way, the attitude of The Obstacle is The Way — that is how you do it. And this is increasingly recognized by those who pay attention (check out this Guardian article from Alex Curmi — Is Convenience Making Our Lives More Difficult?).

To conclude, Michael Easter’s The Comfort Crisis is more than just a critique of modern comfort — it’s a roadmap for living a richer, more intentional life. Growth often stems from discomfort. Whether it’s tackling a physical challenge, navigating emotional turbulence, or confronting fear, discomfort is a catalyst for improvement. The key is how we frame discomfort. Not as something to avoid but as something to welcome, something to learn from. Think Marcus Aurelius’ principle of The Obstacle is The Way — ask yourself when confronted with a challenge — what can I learn from this? Modern life has insulated us from many natural stressors — extreme temperatures, hunger, or physical effort — but this insulation has left us weaker and less adaptable. Stepping out of our comfort zones, even in small ways, builds resilience and confidence. Cold showers, fasting, and challenging workouts are some of the ways to do just that. Reintroduce deliberate challenges into your daily life. Learn to enjoy solitude and quiet. Spend time in nature. Pay attention to what and how much you eat. Contemplate your death. And go carry something.

If you liked this read, check out my home page for articles about philosophy, learning, self-improvement, literature, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and more. Here are some you may be interested in: