Day 43: The Tyranny of Visions

They make us feel alive and dead. At the same time.

I spend a large part of my time in an imaginary world; I imagine places and spaces as I believe they should and could be.

People are kind to each other almost all the time. And when they aren’t, they sit down, address it, swiftly admit their mistakes, hug, and then become stronger as a result.

People don’t have personal ambitions beyond constantly learning as much as they possibly can in a variety of ways and then sharing the learnings with as many people as they can.

People walk easily and seamlessly on the tight rope between arrogance and humility, no longer feeling the need to compete with one another. And instead, we invite and support one another for all kinds of experiences and gatherings.

People see the ultimate meaningless of consumption for consumption sake and stop spending superfluously on luxury brands, who have duped us into wasting money on their products.

People always keep the environment in mind, with every decision we make. We don’t buy potato chips or water bottles, so those cease to exist as well. And it’s beyond obvious that all homes, companies, and institutions are built sustainably.

In this world, there is no discrimination. No jealousy. No arrogance. No violence. No ignorance. No abuse of the environment, other species, humans, or ourselves.

I can actually see this world, visually. When I first close my eyes, all I can see is the back of my eye lids. But when I shut them a bit tighter, latching them shut, then beyond that, in the endless black, I can see this world. In these moments, my reality is this imaginary world. The current world, filled with constant examples of oppression and suffering, fades and ceases to exist.

These imaginations actually make me feel more alive than anything else in the world. It’s like the colors from these mental paintings flow through my body like tsunami waves, filling me with vibrant reds, and yellows, and greens, and blues. These colors spread through my body, reaching my extremities and erasing any sense I have of limits or constraints. In this world, anything and everything is possible.

And yet, then I open my eyes. I go out in the world. And I quickly feel cheated — what the hell is going on? Why is that police officer slapping that rickshaw driver? Why is that person prevented from drinking chai here, just because of his caste? Why is this girl being married off, completely against her will, and at such great pain to her? Why is every story on the news about rape and murder? Why am I such a hypocrite all the time? Why is there such a gap between what I imagined and believe is possible and what I’m actually seeing?

How do I respond to the dissonance? With anger; with upset; with silence; with apathy. It’s as if another wave came, but this time, it flushed those colors and energy fountains out of my body. I feel and spew hate — toward myself and toward others — the exact opposite of the world I imagined. The power of the imagination becomes sterile. Lifeless.

Am I just naive? Is this just “the way things are?” Should I simply accept that people are flawed and will always be? Or is it a time issue? Should I spend more time thinking about action steps toward the vision, rather than the vision itself? Or is it a question of expectations — where my imagination creates unrealistic expectations of what can or should be? Or would doing so kill the joy I immense joy I feel as well? Would a life void of such joy even be worth living? And if that’s the case, then should I just accept the emotional waves?

Probably a bit of all.

The thing about visions is that they already exist; they don’t include action steps. Or hard work. Or sweat. Or tears. They are the final frontier in a world that has no final frontier. They paint an unrealistic image of stasis in a world that’s ever changing.

But my brain can’t understand that. So I’m stuck in a paradox, where my imagination has me feeling alive and fueled, but also dead and empty.