Remember the days when people said that travelling made them happy? When people said they got their joys from snowboarding, surfing, mountain climbing, and scuba diving? Now people say they get their happiness from sitting at home and reading a book, watching a movie, shopping, and eating their favorite foods.
Somewhere along the line, we seem to have confused comfort with happiness.
What happened to us?
Why are we vicariously living through the characters in our books and on our TV shows instead of capturing that life for ourselves?
The truest happiness is derived from being uncomfortable, why have we forgotten this?