I'm certain I've written about the idea of the Hedonistic Treadmill before this because I felt an urgency to spread that logical hope in the world. After listening to a conversation about people's spiritual beliefs caused by that Freudian late-night, lying down, uninhibited chat, I was reminded of why the idea of the Hedonistic Treadmill resonated with me in the first place.
People always equated life with a rat race. For those less competitive and more spiritual, there were paths that everyone walks on. These ideas always made me uncomfortable because I could physically feel my friends, racing ahead, in academics, in life, as kids, doing all that was important. I was so far behind, ambling in that rat race having not yet figured out what we were running for. I was uncomfortable with the idea because in my head, my friends had sped past me, but in my life, they were always there, right next to me, urging me on. Paths. Paths seemed strange again because of the difference in pace. Also, the ridiculous amounts of time paths collided, separated, were parallel, and for each person with a thousand people, and for the thousand another thousand each and it all became a very neurotic map in my head like connections of veins but far more crossed and absolutely retarded. So clearly, I was very uncomfortable with the dissonance of the visuals in my head. As I became more articulate and imaginative, I developed the ideas and finally concluded with picturing treadmills. Hundreds and hundreds of treadmills lined up against a glass window. Everyone on a treadmill, next to each other, on different speeds, with different views and varying focus. But everyone next to each other. It wasn't a race. We weren't competing. We just picked our own speed and walked, jogged, ran, sprinted, took what we wanted and flew with it. My brain was at peace. This is why I could so easily meld the Hedonistic Treadmill into my mind. Because as far as I was concerned, we were already on treadmills. Might as well have ours, keep on going, at our own speeds, varying according to our own ups and downs. But we kept on moving. The treadmills didn't stop until we died.
Maybe one of these days I'll write alternate, sic-fi about someone who found the off-button to their treadmill, or found a way to jump off. But the idea's mine so don't steal it. It was just relieving knowing that even if I wanted to take it slow and my best friend just wanted to run with it, she'd still always be next to me. That made me happy. That still makes me happy.
People always equated life with a rat race. For those less competitive and more spiritual, there were paths that everyone walks on. These ideas always made me uncomfortable because I could physically feel my friends, racing ahead, in academics, in life, as kids, doing all that was important. I was so far behind, ambling in that rat race having not yet figured out what we were running for. I was uncomfortable with the idea because in my head, my friends had sped past me, but in my life, they were always there, right next to me, urging me on. Paths. Paths seemed strange again because of the difference in pace. Also, the ridiculous amounts of time paths collided, separated, were parallel, and for each person with a thousand people, and for the thousand another thousand each and it all became a very neurotic map in my head like connections of veins but far more crossed and absolutely retarded. So clearly, I was very uncomfortable with the dissonance of the visuals in my head. As I became more articulate and imaginative, I developed the ideas and finally concluded with picturing treadmills. Hundreds and hundreds of treadmills lined up against a glass window. Everyone on a treadmill, next to each other, on different speeds, with different views and varying focus. But everyone next to each other. It wasn't a race. We weren't competing. We just picked our own speed and walked, jogged, ran, sprinted, took what we wanted and flew with it. My brain was at peace. This is why I could so easily meld the Hedonistic Treadmill into my mind. Because as far as I was concerned, we were already on treadmills. Might as well have ours, keep on going, at our own speeds, varying according to our own ups and downs. But we kept on moving. The treadmills didn't stop until we died.
Maybe one of these days I'll write alternate, sic-fi about someone who found the off-button to their treadmill, or found a way to jump off. But the idea's mine so don't steal it. It was just relieving knowing that even if I wanted to take it slow and my best friend just wanted to run with it, she'd still always be next to me. That made me happy. That still makes me happy.
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