Why Avoiding Discomfort Is Making Life Harder, Not Easier

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"If you are not bothered by the waves, gradually they will become calmer and calmer."

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Shunryu Suzuki

The capacity to be uncomfortable matters more than we think

What do sauna, cold plunge, and deep tissue massages have in common?

They all have potential health benefits. But also, in their own way, they are all training grounds for one essential capacity:

the ability to be with discomfort.

Over time, I’ve come to believe that this capacity is one of the greatest superpowers we can cultivate, especially in a world that is becoming increasingly comfort-oriented (and discomfort-averse).

Not because discomfort is good in itself.

But because life inevitably brings it.

Whether we’re in relationships, parenting, building a business, or simply getting older, all of it comes with varying degrees of discomfort.

And how we relate to it makes all the difference.

A moment in the sauna

Last Sunday, I was sitting in a Banya sauna, just over 80 degrees Celsius.

A feeling I really love.

But if you’ve ever been in a sauna like that, you know what happens after a while. Somewhere past the 10–12 minute mark, things start to shift.

The heat on the skin intensifies.

The heart beat increases.

Sweat pours down.

And right on cue, the mind starts complaining.

This is getting really hot.

How much longer should I stay?

Maybe it’s enough.

Nothing dramatic. Just the familiar urge to move away from discomfort.

In that moment, I have a choice.

I can follow my mind and leave.

I can distract myself with conversation.

Or I can stay, and use the moment as practice.

So I stayed.

What practice actually looks like

Not by forcing myself to endure.

And not by trying to suppress what was happening.

Just noticing.

The heat as sensation.

The sweat as movement.

The thoughts as thoughts.

Watching how the sensations and thoughts change moment by moment. Never quite the same. Always in motion.

And then something else becomes clear.

All of this — the sensations, the thoughts, the urge to escape — is appearing in something larger.

A wider field of awareness.

You can call it awareness, presence, Self, the witness. What you call it doesn’t really matter so much. What matters is the direct experience of not being identified with the discomfort.

Of being with it, rather than taken over by it.

The salt and the lake

In Buddhist teachings, this is often illustrated with a simple image.

Put a tablespoon of salt into a glass of water, and the water becomes undrinkable.

Put the same tablespoon into a lake, and nothing really changes.

The salt hasn’t disappeared.

The container has grown.

This is what training with discomfort does.

It doesn’t remove difficulty from life.

It increases our capacity to hold it.

Over time, this allows us to remain steady even when things get intense. Like a rock in stormy weather. Waves still come, but they no longer knock us over so easily.

This doesn’t just benefit us.

It makes us a grounding presence for others, too.

Why this is called “practice”

This work is called practice for a reason.

We don’t start by throwing ourselves into the most extreme situations. We train gradually.

A few extra minutes in the sauna.

The moment when your body says, enough, and your mind starts complaining.

A brief cold shower.

The urge to turn the dial back, right there.

Staying with a challenging yoga pose.

Legs shaking. Muscles tightening. The urge to come out early.

Sitting still in meditation when a part of you wants to get up.

When nothing is happening, and that feels unbearable.

Not immediately reaching for the phone while standing in line.

Feeling the impatience rise.

These small moments reveal just how conditioned we are to escape discomfort.

And they offer a safe, tangible place to begin building resilience.

Discomfort in a comfort-obsessed world

This matters more than ever.

We live in a culture of instant gratification.

Boredom is avoided.

Discomfort is numbed.

Silence is filled the second it appears.

Phones, stimulation, distraction, always within reach.

And yet, life will inevitably bring discomfort. Loss. Uncertainty. Change.

When we lack the capacity to be with these experiences, we suffer more than we need to.

When we cultivate it, something shifts.

The deeper freedom

The ability to stay present with discomfort allows us to fully experience life, not just the pleasant parts.

It allows joy and well-being to arise even in the middle of difficulty.

It allows us to meet life as it is. Including the parts we’d rather skip.

Mindfulness is the tool that builds this capacity.

Not by pushing anything away.

Not by numbing or bypassing.

But by learning to stay with what’s here, without judgment.

And by seeing the impermanence of all experience.

Practicing this becomes a doorway into real freedom.