A Fragile Utopia
Therein lies the truth: the struggle of balance between pleasing man and protecting nature.
Bubbles are magical. There is a reason kids run at the sight of it, and the adults smile as the bubbles float up into the air. But everyone knows that bubbles pop, and we realize quickly, as beautiful as they appear, they are extremely fragile. One wrong move, and they disappear. One powerful gust of wind, and they are either swept away or burst into nothingness.
At the time of writing, it has been nine months since I stepped foot in a foreign country. I have adjusted to living in a new city and found a place where I can, at least in a literal sense, call a new home. For my feet to know the steps and the direction it walks, even with my eyes closed, and for a majestic view that once took my breath away, now becomes an everyday sight, releasing a small sigh of appreciation and gratitude with each glance.
Around this time, I’ve come to realized how beautiful the town I live in is — how the colors of the autumn leaves change as they carry themselves away in the breeze, how temperamental and great mother nature and the weather truly is, and how everyone bends at its command, the beauty of everyone visiting and the paradoxical sadness of no one staying, the peace with each friendly hello and how are you the place brings.
In one way, almost any delusional person who stays just for the honeymoon season will think that this place is indeed a utopia, seemingly perfect and peaceful. But the honeymoon ends, and the pink shades fall off.
Politics in the underground crack, off sewer spills and trash seeping into the lake, and the surprise of the new tourist attraction, damaging a portion of nature. Therein lies the truth: the struggle of balance between protecting nature and inviting tourists. Then you stay longer, and hear the whispers of drugs among high schoolers, of dropouts they keep worrying about. Then there are the louder outcries, of rent and houses that are out of proportion, of everyone barely keeping afloat with the prices of groceries in town, of having a place to stay. With a town where everyone moves, they don’t give the doubters a good reason to stay. This seemingly deceptive utopia is a bubble, and how quickly they pop with one wrong move.
You live the expensive rent, hear the recent rallies and protests in town, about how the lakes are treated poorly, and the mountains are next in line. You quickly realize the false state of peace and order. Although it is much more peaceful and better compared to the rest of the world, the shattering truth still remains: this town is a fragile utopia, threatening to shatter.
But therein lies the comfort of believing in a utopia that is not easily popped or swayed by the wind, and how it isn’t even a bubble to begin with. And the assurance that this utopia has no need to carry a facade, and no fragile state to uncover, and no gust of wind to tear the illusion apart, because it is founded in reality, and a truth I wish to discover.
