When we were children, we gathered with friends because being together was itself the point of life. We built forts that served no purpose. We rode bikes with no destination. We spent entire afternoons creating things that nobody would ever buy. We weren't wasting time. We were living. Somehow, somewhere along the way, we decided that enjoyment had to justify itself. Every hobby has to become a side hustle, every talent a business opportunity, every spare moment an investment in some future version of ourselves.
Look at the average adult's life. They spend forty or fifty hours each week earning enough money to support a house that requires constant maintenance, filled with possessions that require constant upkeep, all so they can have a place to come home to after working too much to enjoy it. Weekends become dedicated to mowing lawns, repairing things, cleaning rooms nobody uses, shopping for things they didn't know they needed, and preparing for another week of doing it all over again. Ask people whether they enjoy this rhythm and most will laugh. They don't. They endure it because they believe it's simply what adulthood is.
Who decided this? I want to speak with adulthood management!
Why do five close friends need five houses, five lawns, five sets of tools, five guest bedrooms, five washing machines, five lawn mowers, and five people spending Saturday doing exactly the same chores on five different properties? We talk endlessly about being busy while designing our lives to maximize the amount of work each individual has to perform. We call it independence, but independence from what? Enjoying life?
Imagine instead that the purpose of life wasn't to accumulate things but to maximize enjoyment. Isn't this the obvious truth? Instead of asking how quickly we can afford our own place, we should ask who we actually enjoy living with. Instead of asking how to own everything ourselves, we should ask what makes sense to share. Instead of trying to minimize our dependence on other people, we begin seeing trusted people as one of life's greatest assets rather than one of life's greatest risks.
I'm not talking about surrendering our individuality. I'm talking about reclaiming community. Somehow we've come to believe that growing up means becoming increasingly isolated. We leave our families, move away from our friends, build our own little kingdoms, and then schedule appointments weeks in advance just to spend a few hours with the people who make us laugh. We've accepted this as normal despite the fact that almost everyone complains about feeling lonely and friends become nearly impossible to come by.
What if our friends were more than occasional visitors? What if they were our teammates? What if one person loved cooking, another enjoyed gardening, another fixing things, another teaching children, another creating art, and everyone benefited because everyone contributed in different ways? What if creating together became more important than consuming separately or making money? What if our friend's latest project wasn't something we politely acknowledged before changing the subject, but something we were genuinely excited to help bring into existence with them because their joy added to our own?
I know the common objections. What if someone doesn't contribute? What if people argue? What if someone wants to leave? Of course those things will happen. Every way of living has problems. Marriage has problems. Businesses have problems. Families have problems. Living alone has problems. We don't reject those ideas because they have difficulties. We work through them because we believe the goal is worth pursuing.
The real obstacle here isn't logistics, but imagination. We have become so accustomed to organizing our lives around ownership, privacy, and individual success that many people cannot picture another way to live. They immediately begin searching for reasons it won't work instead of asking how it could. That's what we've trained ourselves to do. We defend the familiar, even when the familiar leaves us exhausted.
Maybe we've been asking the wrong question all along. Instead of asking how to make our current lives slightly less stressful, perhaps we should be asking what kind of life is actually worth building. One where we own more, or one where we laugh more? One where we protect our independence, or one where we deepen our relationships? One where every person carries the full burden alone, or one where the burdens are lighter because they're shared?
Like Twenty One Pilots' song Stressed Out, we all love the idea of going back to our childhood where we were more carefree. I don't think it's because we miss being children—I think it's because we long for a time when life revolved around enjoyment instead of obligation. We absolutely miss belonging and simply being. We miss having people around to pick up a random game, go for impromtu walk or bike ride, to check out what we can do as we attempt some insane feet just for kicks. We miss creating things simply because we want to. We miss waking up excited about the day instead of relieved that it's Friday. Kids hated going to sleep because the day was so full of wonder and opportunity. And now? We can't wait to sleep and end another exhausting day of self-induced obligations to manage our things while our lives wilt away.
We've been chasing the wrong dream. We don't need bigger houses. We need fuller lives. We don't need more ownership. We need togetherness. We don't need more money before we can start living. Laughter is free. Gratitude is free. Deep discussions, walks, and friendly competition is free. We've traded life for collecting the tools of life rather than actually living it. We've traded the main quest in a video game for running the dailies over and over so that we can buy a sword we'll never use. We stand around proud in the town square as our armor and sword flashes and glows while everyone looks in awe to do the same. Then we each stand separately wondering if the oohs and ahhs were even worth it. They were not. It's about the story on the way, not the achievement at the end. The end is the same for everyone and the only thing that matters is how much we enjoyed it on the way. Let's stop pretending that money will solve our problems and that accumulation is wealth. If we learn to prioritize and share, we won't be too busy to live.
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