the simple minded suburbanite


“Dreamers Are Gluttons…
February 14, 2012, 3:34 pm
Filed under: authenticity, culture, suburban, voluntary simplicity | Tags: , ,

…and only lazybones invent labor saving devices.”  A passage I came across written by Gunter Grass in the classic, The Tin Drum.  It struck me and I found myself arguing with its logic, since a dreamer is what I fancy myself.  Arguing against is a sure sign that there is some personal truth contained in the words.  Are dreamers gluttons?  At first, I say, “no.”

I imagine artists living on spartan farmettes on the outskirts of town.  I think of poets, writers in one-room flats.  Thoreau, Emerson lived simply and connected greatly to nature.  Starving for their craft.  Living on minimal sustenance.

But now, as I think deeper into the meaning of gluttony, I think maybe, “yes.”  Gluttony in the form of consumption, the greedy need to be filled to overflowing to the point of perhaps taking from someone else.  When I think of Picasso who spent every waking moment painting, sketching to the detriment of family life, friendship, personal reflection. The prolific writers who walked the streets of Paris, observed life with only a writer’s mind, who befriended other like-minded artists and devoured the self of many a lover.  Gluttonous.  They consumed the hours of each day with the ravenous orifice of their art.  It was their genius they fed, their dreams.

Don’t all we dreamers envision days on end at the piano while the dishes pile high in the sink and the kids play, filthy on the lawn?  Dream of days with a behaggled maid to sweep up our messes and keep visitors at bay while we scratch away with feather quill at our paper strewn desk.  Dream of being consumed by our passions and feeding only on that feeds our hungry soul?  Our desires.

And don’t we all have to fight that monster, us dreamers?  Keep the children clean and feeling loved.  Lunch with friends.  Listen, empathetically, to our spouse.  Make the beds.  Go to work.  Wash our hair.

And don’t all of us dreamers think of ways to save time, save labor, save energy and space to create it, however small, for our passions?  A nook, a pillow propped on the bed, twenty minutes of solitude on a Sunday morning.

Dreamers, I believe, are gluttons.  We love a feast.  We can lull about the table of desire.  And yet, we always are able to stay hungry.

Bottoms up to us, dreamers.




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