I was having a conversation with a friend of mine about our ideal heavens. After much drawing and labelling on the whiteboard explaining my elaborate plan, I received some interesting feedback. “You’ve literally described a rich college kid’s birthday party” and it kind of never left me since then.
It got me thinking, isn’t it so goddamn peculiar that humans rope in familiarity and their personal routine into every sphere of existence they inhabit? Like moving into a bare apartment and filling it up with quirky family habits and furniture arrangements. Even the way we fill up the cupboards with pots, pans or my subconscious imitation of mama who shoves the fresh Rs 500 notes further back in the wallet, it’s all familiar. A derivative existence almost.
Our movements, the way we talk or laugh, the way we decorate the office cubicle or arrange the cushions a little differently at the therapist’s are all subconscious hand me down’s that seem to fit just fine. It brings to mind the whole Aristotle vs Plato wrestling match of a concept: mimesis. Our imitation that thereby creates art. Imitation being art itself. The lyrics we jot down, the doodles in our journals, the little films we make on our phones, the Greek sculptures that stand tall or the immaculate cave paintings from centuries ago.
When one is asked to imagine what their ideal heaven is, isn’t it an imitation of our already familiar existence on Earth? The same comforts we experience on earth but maybe amplified? So, am I really to blame for wanting a rich college kid’s party as my heaven? After all, you do get to watch The Beatles live while dunking fresh strawberries in your mini chocolate fountain.
