While listening to ebook – Embrace Discomfort by Michael Easter

Prevalence induced concept change

Chapter or Section: Explore the Edge

Prevalence-induced concept change refers to the tendency for people to expand their understanding of a concept when the frequency of its instances decreases. This means that as something becomes less common, people might redefine it to include things that they previously didn’t consider part of it. 

Here’s a more detailed explanation:

Mental illness: If the perceived prevalence of certain mental health symptoms decreases, people might broaden their concept of mental illness to include more symptoms. 

The Phenomenon:When something (a concept, a problem, a category) becomes less prevalent, people’s understanding of it can change, often expanding to include more things. 

Examples:

Color perception: If blue dots become rare, people might start calling purple dots “blue”. 

Ethics judgments: If unethical requests become rare, people might start seeing innocuous requests as unethical. 

• Why it happens:The exact mechanism is still being studied, but one theory suggests it’s due to a kind of “range-frequency compromise” where people compare the current stimulus to recent stimuli. 
• Consequences:This phenomenon can have significant social consequences because many real-world tasks require consistent judgments over time. If judgments change based on prevalence, it can lead to problems like misidentifying problems as intractable or overreacting to changes in prevalence. 

In essence, prevalence-induced concept change highlights how our understanding of things can shift based on how frequently we encounter them, even when we are aware of the phenomenon. 

A difficult takeaway here is that humans , as comfort expands, simply lower the threshold for what we consider a problem. The study (click here) describes multiple examples and try to display their research to demonstrate this phenomenon. I find it interesting that many people surrender their control of choice for comfort. It occurs in such a nuanced way, many just aren’t plugged-in enough to realize that is what they have subtly done. As the world becomes better our problems often become more hollow.

Excitement or Anxiety? A Subtle but Powerful Difference

A fascinating question posed in Justin Easter’s audiobook caught my attention recently: Can you describe the difference between excitement and anxiety?  One participant shared that many people he asked couldn’t clearly distinguish between the two. That stuck with me.

So, with this new curiosity, I asked my almost 10-year-old daughter the same question last night. Her answer was simple but profound: “One makes me happy, and the other makes me sad.”

That clarity from my child made me pause. Knowing the difference between excitement and anxiety seems to carry real meaning—especially for her. She often “freezes” in moments of worry or anxiety, and I’ve started to wonder: What if we could help her reframe those feelings? What if, over time, she could learn to recognize and navigate them with more ease?

This has become a small experiment between us. If we can shape her understanding of these emotions now—giving her tools to name and work with them—my hope is that she’ll be able to approach life with more confidence and resilience. It’s a skill I didn’t realize I needed when I was younger, but one I now wish I had tuned into earlier.

By simplifying this emotional awareness into something she can recognize and reflect on, I believe she’ll be able to deepen her emotional well far earlier than I ever did.

Some thoughts: Deepening the well

Swimming in Deep Waters: Lessons from 2022 My California Ironman

When I crossed the finish line of the California Ironman in 2022, I didn’t just complete a race— I uncovered something deeper within myself. In the months that followed, I realized one of the most powerful lessons wasn’t about endurance or training—it was about learning to interact with the depths of my own internal well.

One recurring theme in my life has been the disparity I often feel between my efforts and those of others. I know the saying: “Comparison is the thief of joy.” And while I try not to dwell in that space like I once did, the truth is, I’ve gathered a lot of insight from simply observing. Those observations don’t define me, but they do inform me.

What I’ve come to understand is this: I get to choose when I draw from my well. I decide when to dive deep, and I accept the comfort—or discomfort—I find there. That choice is mine alone. My partner Liz and I often say, “We only know how to swim in deep waters.” It’s a phrase that’s become a kind of mantra for us. We’ve been through enough to know how to navigate the depths, and we’ve built the muscle to keep going when things get hard.

Yes, we enjoy comfort when it comes. But I’ve noticed that comfort, like happiness, is often overly transactional. It always wants something in return. And if you sit with it (comfort) too long, it starts to spoil. That’s the nature of comfort—it’s fleeting, and if we’re not careful, it can dull our edge. It reminds me of the psychological concept of prevalence-induced concept change—how our standards shift as we become accustomed to ease.

So I keep choosing the deep waters. Not because it’s easy, but because that’s where I find growth, clarity, and truth.

The Illusion of Comfort and the Call to Depth

I’ve come to realize that comfort often brings with it a subtle companion: variety. And variety, in turn, can disguise itself as freedom. But this version of freedom—when filtered through the lens of comfort—can become distorted. It can lead to misframing our challenges and avoiding the deeper work of exploring our inner well. Like any muscle, if we don’t use it, it weakens. The same goes for effort, resilience, and purpose. Without regular engagement, they fade.

This is where the struggle often begins. Comfort, by its nature, doesn’t demand effort once it’s achieved. Sure, reaching a place of comfort may have required immense effort—I know mine did. Completing a 140.6-mile Ironman demanded everything from me—physically, mentally, and emotionally. It deepened my well and forged resilience that I carry with me still. But since then, I’ve found myself coasting. Resting. Recovering. Then the injury occurred adding a different layer of challenges.

It’s taken time to recognize this. Sometimes I’m hyper-aware of these shifts; other times, it takes an external jolt—some discomfort beyond my control—to wake me up and remind me to recalibrate. I’ve needed this season of rest, both physically and mentally. But now, I can feel the embers beginning to stir again. I don’t yet know what they’ll ignite, but the spark is there—and that brings a quiet excitement.

In the meantime, Liz has a few events coming up: Drop 13, the Cache Valley Gran Fondo, and the St. George Half Marathon. I’m proud to support her through these challenges, alongside our little family. We’ll be cheering her on every step of the way.

Here we go!