I've been there a thousand years, and I never felt comfortable.

"I've been there a thousand years, and I never felt comfortable. Beverly Hills - when I first saw it, I thought they put it up this morning. You got to pack water to get to the drugstore." These words from Peter Falk offer a poignant reflection on the tension between the artificial and the authentic, the superficial and the real. In his vivid description of Beverly Hills, Falk expresses the feeling of displacement, of being in a place that feels alien, despite the fact that he has spent time there. The very nature of this place, a manufactured landscape of luxury and pretense, is at odds with his sense of what is genuine and grounded. This discomfort speaks not only to the unease of an individual in a foreign environment, but to the greater struggle between the natural world and the constructed one that surrounds us all.

Beverly Hills, like many other places shaped by wealth and ambition, stands as a symbol of a world that prioritizes appearance over substance. Falk’s words evoke a feeling of disconnection, as if the city were a mirage—beautiful and pristine, but ultimately unnatural. In the ancient world, such places would be seen as decoys, distractions from the true purpose of life. The philosopher Socrates might have wandered through such a city, marveling at its opulence, but feeling deeply uneasy about the emptiness that lay beneath its surface. In his dialogues, he often questioned the truth behind the outward appearances of wealth, fame, and power. Socrates would have seen Beverly Hills as a modern-day manifestation of the shadows on the wall, a place that offers illusion but not substance.

Indeed, the very nature of Beverly Hills—its carefully manicured streets and glittering facades—reminds us of a time long past in the ancient world when cities like Babylon and Rome stood as grand monuments to human achievement. But even those cities, with their towering walls and opulent palaces, were not without their critics. The poet Juvenal, who lived in the shadow of the Roman Empire’s grandeur, famously wrote, "The world is full of luxury, but there’s no love to be found." He, too, saw the discomfort in a world that valued riches above virtue, status over truth. Just as Falk felt out of place in a world that seemed constructed overnight, so did Juvenal lament the disconnection between the grandeur of Rome and the human spirit that seemed lost beneath it.

Falk’s reference to needing to "pack water to get to the drugstore" further illustrates the artificial nature of Beverly Hills. It speaks to the sense of being trapped in a constructed world where even the most basic elements of life seem unnatural. Water, the most essential of elements for life, becomes a metaphor for how far removed we are from the natural world. In ancient civilizations, water was the lifeblood of the city—vital, sacred, and necessary for survival. The aqueducts of Rome, the ancient wells of Jerusalem, and the rivers of Mesopotamia were symbols of connection to the earth, the grounding force that sustained life. To live in a place where one must prepare artificially for even the simplest of needs reflects a deeper disconnect from the true rhythm of existence.

Consider the wisdom of Thoreau, who retreated to the woods near Walden Pond in the mid-19th century, seeking a life that was authentic, free from the trappings of modern society. In his journal, he remarked, "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." Thoreau’s rejection of society’s manufactured comforts and his embrace of simplicity stands in stark contrast to the world Falk describes in Beverly Hills—a world where artifice reigns and even the simplest of acts is distorted by the constructs of society.

The lesson here is clear: we must be mindful of the environments we create for ourselves and the worlds we inhabit. The discomfort that Peter Falk describes is a call to recognize the difference between a life built on substance and one that is merely a facade. Whether we live in the glittering halls of a modern city or the ancient palaces of kings, it is our connection to the natural world, to the truth beneath the surface, that defines our lives. To live authentically is to embrace the elements of life that are real, not manufactured.

So, let us heed the lesson that Peter Falk offers: Do not become enamored by the glittering surface of luxury and appearance. Do not be fooled by the allure of a world that seems perfect but is hollow beneath. Seek instead the authentic connections, the simplicity that lies at the heart of existence. Like the ancient philosophers, warriors, and poets, we must question the illusion of the world around us, seeking instead the deeper truths that connect us to one another, to the land, and to ourselves. Only by doing so can we find true comfort in a world that often seems built to deceive.