What Do We Do With Our Dreams of Eden?
What Do We Do With Our Dreams of Eden?
Can We Still Pull Back from the Cliff of Utopian Delusions?
I have a confession to make. I have Utopian aspirations. Planning a small community of like-minded people is one of the thought chains I torture myself with, usually when I’m feeling a little lonely. I acknowledge that it can be a distraction, and if I linger too much over comparisons with the simple pleasures of real life, it could become a thief of joy. But imagine the possibilities!
I can see clearly. A big two-story house, which I design and redesign. It has secret passages, floor-to-ceiling windows, cozy fireplaces crackling with warmth, and loads of storage for art supplies. The kids, cousins, and friends are there too, happy under a glowing sunset that never touches a single tool left out in the grass. I could melt into this heaven.
These are pleasant dreams. Complete with a communal area where everyone gathers for meals, home-cooked with comradery and real cream. We all work at something or other. There's never any overtime to get in the way of enjoying each other’s company. Kids play, babies are tended and everyone gets together to build something like maybe a barn. And maybe we hand wave that.
I even indulge in this kind of fiction. Think of all the movies where groups overcome friction and now support each other through the worst tribulations. You could just about explode with the love and esprit de corps. For goodness’ sake, even Deadpool does it.
So I know that I am not alone in this.
And why wouldn’t people fantasize about what is basically a small tribe lifestyle? Reality can be rough. Philip Slater pointed out in The Pursuit of Loneliness that our modern lifestyle conflicts with our psychological needs.
The gap between our need for close bonds and the atomization created by modern life has only widened since that book was published. Today 12% of Americans say they do not have any close friends. It makes sense to demand a harmonious Utopian world, with a side of buttery biscuits and no need for fat pants! We have the technology, we can rebuild it, right?
Yet as someone who read The Giver to my kids, I know there is danger here.
These dreams applied to real life quickly become nightmares. I’ve seen it myself when I’ve joined groups looking to make a difference. I hoped I’d find a tribe in one of these groups, but invariably I discovered they were so focused on virtue signaling there was no room for intimacy. And it’s not just with the progressive left. It’s the same on the right. Posturing in hockey booster clubs can be brutal.
All of these groups were touting their own versions of Utopia where everything is perfect if only people would get with the program and you as an individual could be deemed good enough to be allowed to enter. That’s the definition of not ideal.
Even still, having my personal Utopian dream helps during uncertain moments when I’m not sure if the things I’ve done to get ahead will bear fruit. It’s productive for a while, but sooner or later, I confront reality: dishes piled in the sink, Poppet hungry, the kids’ projects still on the table, and I forgot to wipe up the fish food that I spilled last night. Occasionally cursing ensues.
In those moments I must admit, I’m doing something wrong when it comes to the attainment of this Utopia. Not enough Maximum Effort maybe? Then I have to concede I’m probably already as close as I’ll get, and a hot cup of tea even from a chipped mug is pretty near manna from heaven. Comfortably reseated in reality I move on until the next trigger starts the cycle anew.
That’s me.
But what about the others, like those groups I joined, who tend toward this kind of wayward thought oxbow?
From what I’ve observed recently, the right–and more so the left– is unmoored from basic sanity. Color me concerned. Too few hopeful dreamers are having that coming back-to-earth chain of events. Maybe they don’t have kids or pets to call them back down here to the mud. Maybe they can afford a housekeeper or a maid, or just eat out every day of the week at Japanese Hibachi.
I’ve thought about how people could stay grounded if they want to. No force implied–all the caveats included.
Cue the drumroll….
The suggestion–Get a plant. And not just any easy plant, get a challenge like a Venus flytrap, rose grape, or almost any orchid. No bundling in any aspidistra.
I’m only being a little facetious. If I had the brains to create a true Utopia, I would already know how to keep people connected to reality. But as a life-long gardener and tender of things I learned that looking after something, like a plant heartbreaking in its beauty, keeps my own dreams of Eden in check. Like my plumeria above.
Despite my neglect, this plumeria has been my friend for nearly two decades. This summer I refocused on my chloroplast-producing comrades and this one has rewarded me with these lovely blooms. It’s been over 5 years since I last coaxed it to flower. So I am honored to see the show.
To get to this point I had to clear weeds out of the pot–so embarrassing. I also had to fertilize carefully, and water just enough, watching the rain so that I didn’t overwater or underwater. Gardening teaches you quickly that you are not in control. Eden must have required an army of gardeners for Adam and Eve to scamper about in the altogether. Real life is messy. Real life has weeds.
Utopian daydreams are appealing because they never include dirty dishes, or a house full of sick vomiting kids. Or arguments about who promised to get the car fixed before the weekend. Or dog poo on the floor because everyone forgot to let her out. I could go on and on.
Dreams are valuable. They give us something to aspire to, and relief from the drudgery that comes with everything necessary to stay alive and reasonably clean. I would never give that up.
At the same time, if we allow ourselves to float out of touch with reality, we risk losing sight of who we are and those we love, like a solo spaceman. Those who disagree with our Utopia start to look like obstacles. Then, they become monsters, and what’s a little harm to a monster.
Real connection is gone.
If you never return from Utopian dreams you can’t connect to the complicated but genuinely meaningful pleasures life offers like walking a dog in the rain, finishing a project you worked on for months, talking late into the night with a close friend as they contemplate their death or enticing a potted plumeria to bloom.
About
Diogenes in Exile began after I returned to grad school to pursue a degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling at the University of Tennessee. What I encountered, however, was a program deeply entrenched in Critical Theories ideology. During my time there, I experienced significant resistance, particularly for my Buddhist practice, which was labeled as invalidating to other identities. After careful reflection, I chose to leave the program, believing the curriculum being taught would ultimately harm clients and lead to unethical practices in the field.
Since then, I’ve dedicated myself to investigating, writing, and speaking out about the troubling direction of psychology, higher education, and other institutions that seem to have lost their way. When I’m not working on these issues, you’ll find me in the garden, creating art, walking my dog, or guiding my kids toward adulthood.
You can also find my work at Minding the Campus
Diogenes in Exile is reader-supported. If you find value in this work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber or buying Thought Criminal merch to keep this mission alive.