I have a profession that causes me to think about myself probably more than the average person. I write a song about something in my life and then spend countless hours trying to find ways to make people listen to me, visit my, website, and then give me their money, so that I can figure out how to sustain myself. I also happen to be part of a generation that thinks about itself more than any past generation.

A few weeks ago I posed this question on  Facebook: Do you ever worry that you are too comfortable?  Most everyone answered "Yes."

Over the past few months I've been really worried about this - this comfort. Things aren't perfect...but I have no right to complain. And if I did (I do), I'd have no right to expect better. My life is just plain comfortable...and for some reason this really makes me uncomfortable.

What does this mean?  Should I get rid of my car, sell some things and move into a smaller apartment? Eh...maybe. Should I go do something "uncomfortable", like spend time in "rougher" parts of the city that I don't normally frequent. Not quite.  Should I jump ship, move to a new world, and live on a dirt road with stray chickens, houses made of mud, and roofs made of straw? Yes, actually, that's not such a bad idea. But that doesn't exactly solve anything.

This evening I listened to a friend, Jay Slocum of Jonah's Call, on the radio. He talked about humility...which, in its purest form, is meekness or lowliness - the act of lowering oneself. When all was said and done, after listening to the broadcast and after a long, very quite drive home from a distant gig, I've decided that the greatest sin of our generation is not excessive consumption of technology or  any such thing. It is narcissism. We are absolutely fascinated with ourselves. And for what? For what reason?

I always joke that Facebook is: "The greatest conversation I've never had."  I can ignore people when i want. I can respond when I want. I can delete a comment when I don't like what i read, and I can know more than I want to know about any given person that I don't actually know. And if you and I both think about this, if even for a few seconds, we can't ignore the fact that its just twisted! Wrong!

What does a selfish nature demand except convenience, customization, and comfort? What would it take to readily and happily make room for inconvenience and discomfort? What would it take to really know someone - to ask them about themselves and to genuinely care in that moment and for all future moments?  Why is this hard to do?