My Utopia is a world where people take care of their own shit. Everyone has a natural rhythm of life, and it is completely unnecessary when you are forced to deal with someone else’s rhythm.
Now, what exactly do I mean by this? Well, every day we experience a flux of emotions and an onslaught of mental activity, and it is the responsibility of every moral agent to learn to cope with this inner world. At one moment you are pleased with yourself for having received some positive feedback. At another, outraged at such an improper use of language (I mean how could you be so dumb? That didn’t even make sense).
And at another, annoyed by some insidious thought (god will you please just shut up). Or at my favorite point of the day, completely torn because all you want to do is relax after work, but you have ten other things that you have to get done before bed (woof). Sound familiar? Well, it is our daily lives seen from the inside. Now, this inner dialogue, flux of emotions, and self-approbation or disapprobation, constitutes a rhythm of sorts. This rhythm, I suggest, provides ample opportunities and lessons for growth. In fact, learning to get along with yourself is the greatest lesson life has to offer. Plus, I can see no fault in reasoning that this would be the best of all possible worlds if every one of us did indeed practice this character development unfalteringly.
Hence, the Utopian idea of everyone taking care of their own shit.
Now, let me clarify that this not selfishness, or general apathy towards the problems of others and the world. I say this because in each of our rhythms there is a window for helpfulness and a note of altruism. For example, when someone wholeheartedly asks us for our help we are very willing and even honored to be at service, but, on the other hand, when someone’s shit is dumped on you for no good reason, other than their own god-damned laziness, we are putting up with unnecessary bullshit such that, if it were ever to be completely eradicated the world would truly be a better place.
That being said, I am not perfect, and I realize upon second considerations that a Utopia is characteristically not of this world. So, in the meantime, before I join the Philosophers in the intelligible realm, I suppose I must be grateful when my bullshit is forgiven, and when I encounter another’s bullshit that I ought to capitalize on the occurrence as “an opportunity for improvement” as my soul continues its ascent. For it is in helping others to realize that there is something better do we begin to comprehend our own potency. Theoretical power becomes actualized in the heart when we realize we have done some good. Your power becomes real when you help another discover their own. For what is bullshit other than someone pleading for your help, not in words but in deeds? Plus, in a more humble vein, isn’t it just plain old nice to return the favor when someone else has gone out of their way and picked up your pieces?
Without bullshit, I conclude, there would be nothing more for the soul to collect in this world than the impotent sounds of our inner lives. Now don’t get it twisted. Bullshit is not a good, or some necessary annoyance in a grandeur scheme of things. It is because it is decisively unnecessary that it sucks so much. We don’t live in the brilliance of the intelligible realm. This world is appalling, but discovering why it is so repugnant, is an entirely different and worthwhile pursuit. The boy who whistled in the dark, I suspect, never made it very far— even if he made it to the top of the mountain.