The long, hot shower that we all know and love is a distinctly modern pleasure. As soon as the water stream hits a mildly comfortable warm temperature, time seems to melt away and we can forget about life's troubles as the stream rises. Like a sly addiction, we hesitate to shut off the valve, silently coaxing ourselves to give a few more minutes of leisure. The goal of cleanliness becomes a mere cover for a prolonged period of relaxation. Our muscles de-stress, Oxytocin goes up, anxiety goes down.
While there's nothing inherently wrong with a hot shower itself, the manner in which we do so is in many ways symptomatic of larger issues with our sedentary urban lifestyle. The first problem of course is that of excess. Yes, water wastage is an issue (around 2.5 gallons are lost in an average shower) and plenty of the thermal energy literally goes down the drain. How much water is used up just to wait until the warmth level is sufficient? If you go according to the Sunnah, or just common sense, the process of cleaning shouldn't be so resource and time consuming. But there is a more subtle concern to our attachment with hot showers: the need for comfort.
It's not that we crave comfort. It's that comfort has become our unwritten purpose of existence. For our ancestors, the need for self-preservation was a dominant concern. Tough environment, food scarcity, hostile enemies, all these things meant that security couldn't be taken for granted. This is still the state for much of humanity today, but for the sheltered urbanites among us, these factors have pretty much been taken out of the equation. We are free to indulge in making our day-to-day tasks simpler and convenient, to the point that a life of convenience is viewed as a life of comfort. And comfort is somehow construed as happiness. It's hard to think of a point in the historical process when this became a norm. When the 19th century British philosopher Jeremy Bentham famously articulated the utilitarian principle of seeking 'the maximum happiness for the maximum amount of people', he defined happiness as 'pleasure' over 'pain'. Perhaps this may have been a starting point.
To take a somewhat contrarian view, I feel that comfort should also be something imbibed in moderation. Too much comfort can be a strange intoxicant, desensitizing us to some of life's underlying struggles. Comfort can bring relief, yes, but how much have we lost by fearing to leave the confines of our comfy little cottage? Comfort doesn't prepare us for the arrows of misfortune when they hit their mark. But to say that perhaps life was not meant to be comfortable sounds like sacrilege to a modern.
To be sure, I'm not saying that taking frequent frigid showers automatically makes one a hardened warrior, or that anyone who takes a hot showers is by default namby pamby. There are at best some unreliable indicators of larger social inclinations in society. Based on trends we can see manifested nowadays, the securing of comfort as a primary social aim seems to be giving way though to the management of risk, which sociologists now call the risk society, as the faith in the project of modernity slowly fades. But then, that's a study for another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment