Excerpt:
Funny how we humans all crave paradise. I’m not talking about any hypothetical paradise beyond the grave either, that always just sounded like a bore to me. No, I’m talking about real, flower scented, bare breasted, warm and sandy, sin-filled, earthly paradise. Of course, there is an entire industry dedicated to providing that dream of paradise to us. They pave it, package it and sanitize it for our protection. And it doesn’t matter if we are talking about Maui or Moab, the Paradise Industrial Complex is there for us, turning what was once wild and mysterious into something safe, easy and marketable. There’s big money in paradise. Mr. Stiles calls it the “amenities economy” and that’s as good a name for it as any. We all use it, feed into it, profit from it. We are all of us, by sheer numbers alone, complicit in the exploitation and destruction of paradise. As John Muir said, “nothing dollar-able is safe.” But we continue to crave it, as a dream unfulfilled, as a tonic for work-a-day life, as an antidote for civilization, as a place to hide. Maybe we all need to look closer to home. Happiness isn’t a place after all, and no matter where you go, there you are.
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