It is not luxury that I find to be of longevity and benefit, but comfort, this seems to me to be the most needed, what traverses the body and sits deeper in the belly and mind. This is what counters the contemporary grit, softens even the hardest edges of doubt and worry.
Comfort, at the risk of being dismissed as a romantic, is the longest and deepest embrace. The thread that binds the senses, ties the mind to deeper meaning and calms the inner rattle. Here within comfort, within the embrace is where possibility is inspired.
Comfort me from wherever you are—
alone, we are quickly worn out;
if I place my head on the road,
let it seem softened by you.
Could it be that even from afar
we offer each other a gentle breath,
and that pure regret of absence
covers these stones with down?
~Rainer Maria Rilke
Comfort is not dismissed as trend but welcomed and held forever in the body. It is memory based, fueled by the tactile and woven by the story teller mind. It is book of pages, words of meaning, watercolor images that float in the imagination. It is all this and more, layered by the individual beneficiary.
History is attached to the realm of comfort since day one of birth as we are swaddled, nestled in the bosom and cradled in comforting arms. This is what spurs the ideal, coded genetics and written memory, the routines of time and attachment. Rituals of daily life passing.
Comfort is what we make it, what words we choose to describe. It is not merely in the eye of the beholder, but in the hand of the user.