Shock—we've all experienced it in one form or another. It could be that you lost someone dear to you unexpectedly, or maybe that you failed at reaching a personal goal you were convinced you could achieve. Whatever the case, you've had to deal with the rectification between your expectations and reality.

It really is a crazy thing. Our brains are designed to experience a little time-out session when we first realize this difference exists. Time enters a no passing zone, and there we are, aware of the world around us, yet so far removed. We all know that this state only lasts a short while—if only we could lengthen it.

When it leaves we're bombarded with fear, anger, sorrow and a whole slew of emotions that we're never ready for. Of course, with time, we work through these emotions and return to (a version of) normalcy.

So, it's a natural thing to ask, "why aren't we always prepared—like boyscouts?" Well, the answer is: sometimes we are.

Have you ever caught yourself talking to the imaginary police officer? You know, the one you make up so that you can reason out just how you'll talk your way out of the ticket you deserve (maybe it's just me)? If you've ever prepped for such a phantom event, you'll know just what I mean. You and your bag of reasons will have already thought of every excuse and witty retort before you even get pulled over.

You've done it. Automatically, you've responded to the dilemma at hand, even though, usually, there isn't one. Face it, your brain is smarter than you—so much so that it's prepared you to deal with not just scenarios you'll likely encounter, but many others as well.

So what happens when they really do happen? Well, if you're like me, you answer the officer's questions with clear yesses and nos, and when he tickets you you thank him.

When you needed those convincing and witty lines, they were gone. It might seem the preparation has failed. But, now, just wait for it. After it's over the reasons will all come back. When they do, you'll feel the overwhelming urge to share them with the nearest captive audience available (pity the passenger).

While it may seem like your brain set up an elaborate defense system, it was really just preparing you for the emotional onslaught that is losing. You thought you were ready for anything—at least you were ready to lose.

What things in your life make you feel comfortable? Take a moment to think about them. If you're at all like me, you probably just envisioned a loaded turkey sandwich, your favorite after-a-long-day chair, and a fresh-ground French press steaming in your favorite mugーor at least something similar. Well, whatever it is, I hope you're experiencing it right now, because it may be the last time you ever do so with a clear conscience.

No, I'm not going to lay a guilt trip on you about how other people are utterly without our luxuries, as true as that is. Instead, I'd like to share my latest epiphony: being comfortable is bad for you.

Aside from the worldly attachments we develop when visiting our "comfort caves", being comfortable is detramental in another way. When we feel comfortable, we close our eyes to growth.

By deciding that we're comfortable with our own levels of competence in our respective fields (be they professional or inspired), we stunt ourselves of the drive to exceed our previous performances. For example, my previously mentioned comfrort-vices keep me from discovering new types of sandwiches, gaining new perspective from other seats, and finding out how much I really would enjoy kumquat tea (?). While these things are fairly inconsequential, you can see where applying the same principle on a larger scale might reveal one of human-kind's greatest weaknesses: the lack of drive to improve.

Now, what were those things that make you feel comfortable? Think about them.

Losing is lovely because when you lose, you're tested. For example, playing golf is more a challenge of temper for me than of athleticism (though I do stink at the latter). Losing at golf means a poor scorecard, but a tried and controlled temper is much more valuable than any scorecard. When in competitive games like chess, losing means seeing someone else win, which, with study, can improve your game much more than playing an easy opponent and winning.