Dreams vs. fantasies
On living life to the fullest
Good Lord, what a lovely day it is. The Midwest has been getting some hints of fall, an uncommon occurrence for the dog days (btw, I wrote this post before I took the picture above, which, as you can tell from the palm trees, was not taken in the Midwest).
I enjoy summers, but the older I get—or perhaps it is just this year now since, for the first time, I’ve not got school this fall—the more ready I find myself for the cooler autumn air come summer’s end. Not that I won’t miss the heat, but that I won’t mind as much all that’s to come in these later months.
Because I haven’t always loved autumn, even though it is the season of my birthday. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the season itself—though I tend only to prefer cold temperatures when I can ski—but what it required of me. More burden than summer, less free time. School, soccer, holidays. I love holidays, but why must we move around so much? Why do they feel like more work than work itself? What exactly are we celebrating here? And where hath gone the snow??
On light
Thinking now about the fall, a thought has entered my mind:
Some ways in which I contemplate Autumn drive me to think poorly of it, and others compel me to regard it more highly. And for some reason, it’s got to do with light.
There is always an assortment of lights in which to see things. I suspect we like certain lights more because they give rise to certain opportunities . . . As in, particular lights grant particular relationships and interactions.
To a human, darkness may represent a potential for danger. But to an owl, it’s quite the opposite.
And so, it is the case that one person likes a thing and another doesn’t only, perhaps, because of the light in which they catch it.
Isn’t that what they say? To see things in a more positive light? Perhaps this is what they mean.
Which picture more closely represents the autumn you think of?
Right now, the image I hold in mind is closer to the latter—on the road, in the midst of a sunny October forest, Halloween nearing, or even around a campfire that protects just enough from the ghouls and crispy night air.
I guess it is the case now that I regard it so highly because, as I said, I’ve got the time to enjoy it. I sense opportunity. I want to do fall things. Not in the pumpkin patch, pumpkin spice latte, and whatever-else-girls-do-with-pumpkins sort of way, but in the nature sort of way. I want to be with autumn . . . To not rush through each day, nor waste my nights on a couch, but instead give time to those things I always say or think I’d do if I had all the time and resources in the world. To camp, to hike, to fish, and maybe even to grow a pumpkin myself.
On dreams and distractions
Here I am; the time has come. I’m at that age, in those circumstances, granted those opportunities I always referred to when speaking as a child of my greatest adventures pending. Will I do all I can to make real my dreams and live as I always thought I would? Or will I let the days slip by slowly in the name of comfort and security?
One of life’s greatest challenges, especially today, is to do what you actually want to do. With all these pleasures and pressures around, it’s quite tempting to forget what you once held in such high regard.
Not only are we a society of addicts, but we’ve become so set on ensuring we maintain pace with the standard timeline that we totally neglect what we believe in and simultaneously relinquish any patience for inconvenience and failure and things of the sort—all of which make up the nature of dreams.
We busy ourselves mindlessly in attempt to maintain something so superficial. I find the more “productive” I feel I must be, the more likely I am to walk an untrue path and the more prone I am, therefore, to auctioning my so precious free time away to wasteful habits, tossing to the wayside any endeavor that might make me feel I’m “living life to the fullest.”
Everyone makes this mistake; it’s hard not to. Some are just more fortunate to wake up sooner in a state of despair, realizing they’ve let pass that which may not be reclaimed.
This is one thing I’ve learned from and loved about living in my car: I have no choice but to stay out of the house, which contains the most distractions, and find more invigorating ways to pass the time (even if that just means sitting on a bench or laying on the beach).
In fact, when not everything is so certain and easy, I find almost all the time passed is far more invigorating since each task becomes an adventure in itself. You should have seen me yesterday on the prowl for a hotel toilet. I’ve not felt so scandalous and calculated since my ding-dong-ditching days.
On money
I struggle to ponder this matter without talking about money. Because, especially for young people, the world is expensive. In fact, adjusted for inflation—and please check this yourself if you doubt what I say because I wasn’t an econ major—it is more expensive to be an average American today than ever before (or at least in many, many decades).
This pressure disincentives young people to live inconveniently and get to know themselves on some apparently futile and impractical adventure. I understand why, too, after 8 hours in an office, the couch is so attractive.
It’s no longer so easy to make like Thoreau and build a cabin in the woods. Before the foundation would be finished, you’d have wardens all around asking about permits and property taxes and registration fees. Even to camp requires some sort of paperwork! And don’t get me started on health care.
I’ve endured my own money struggles, not without the help of my parents. I’d be lying now if I said it wasn’t my aim to rake in the dough because without money, at least in this country, it’s hard to do anything. Indeed, having money grants a freedom near akin to some cabin in the forest.
At the same time, most are easily convinced of things they don’t need and have become completely intolerant to historically basic human discomforts. Even worse, we’ve become quite lazy and unhandy people, having lost touch with the many traditions of self-sufficiency and self-enrichment, and now tend only to solve problems with purchases.
Most are not only incapable of peacefully enduring inconvenience but are only ever willing to do something if it is convenient.
As goes one of my favorite quotes:
“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.”
G.K. Chesterton
While it is expensive to be a human these days, it’s not so expensive that we don’t have the choice of breaking free and doing what we believe in. With handiness and awareness and effort, we may come to live the sort of life we’d live if all were equal.
In other words, toss out those excuses.
And, in my opinion, make it soon since it is a fool who forgoes the life he’d (or she’d!) like to live now in hopes he could do it later. Time’s a tickin’!
On rushing
When we do these things, when we finally take the opportunity to do something we actually want to do, we’re often rushed and so never fully reap the experience.
You’ve said for a week you’d like to bake a pizza of your own from scratch, or read that book before bed, or paint a picture with some wine, but the second you start, your mind is already eager to be done.
How often is it you fall asleep to something other than a screen?
We’ve altogether lost interest in life. Take a look around you. How many people seem to be with whatever moment they’re in? What about yourself? Where is it you think you must go right now? What is it you’re looking forward to? Are you sure you’re here?
Most are so anxious for the next thing that before they’ve had the time to take off their jackets and absorb the scene, their minds already wish to be elsewhere! We’re all in a great big hurry to plop our asses on the couch, flip on Netflix, and scroll through TikTok (yes, often at the same time).
Our greatest joys no longer come from simple things. And so, whenever we have the opportunity to be with things, we’re hardly there.
I find that the less often someone does something—the less someone makes a habit of closing these loops (“these loops” being the things they most deeply want to do) and being the person their young self wished they’d be—the more rushed and contemptful (is that a word?) they are when these sorts of opportunities arise. Because, by habit, they are a person who chases ends, and anything withholding them from their end is their enemy.
My friend, it is more than a vacation you need.
The world still has so many treasures. There remain an infinite number of good stories to be lived. But we must get off the couch. We must be with the world.
On fantasies
I often find myself wanting to get a job and be a part of something. Like working at a ski resort, or on a ranch, or as a fly-fishing guide, or some camp or hostel.
While I may one day embark upon these experiences, I find my yearning for them—which tends to be bathed in desperation—increases only in proportion to my lack of self-belief and, by association, sense of loneliness.
It is true that the grass can be greener in some places than others . . . I’d certainly like to spend more time in Costa Rica than Ohio.
But it’s become quite clear to me that the less I dream, the more I fantasize.