When the Sparklers Die Out: Finding Happiness Beyond the American Dream

Happiness. 

More than a word, it is that mysterious emotion humanity chases through the darkness of dissatisfaction. How, the mind screams out, can one obtain this moment of bliss? The American answer, for many, has traditionally been embroiled in the imagery of capitalist utopia: the thought of an ever-upward direction of social mobility and the blessings of pastoral living. Perhaps a wife and two children, the white beams of a picket fence basked in the glow of red white and blue. Others have had enough of this so-called illusion. The majority of the United States seems to fall into one of two categories pertaining to today’s American Dream. One school of firm believers swears by its attainability, and another mourns its demise at the hands of inequality or forsaken values. But has happiness via this patriotic promise ever been able to truly satisfy? Or has it all been a distraction blurring out what really matters?

Millions of men and women, stemming from an array of this nation’s diverse communities, rise each morning believing their aspirations of wealth and prosperity will finally be answered. After all, they are the one thing that the rest of the world will always fail to be: Americans. Aspirations of affluence and comfort are hardly new concepts, and are exactly what have consistently beaten through the heart of the “American Dream” for centuries. Dating back to the author James Truslow Adams and his 1931 The Epic of America one can see the first concrete description of these concepts, and the creation of the term itself, as Adams sees American “life [as being] better and richer […] for everyone, with opportunity [arising] according to ability or achievement.” And each year since, this mythos has been constantly alluded to, almost becoming a model not for how things could be but rather for how they will and need to be. Turn on a television and a politician will stand before the screen promising fulfillment under their campaigns. A few minutes later an advertisement will flash some new-old piece of nostalgic Americana. This concept of living within the American Dream has, for many, altered the entire fabric of the nation’s identity. The national goal is no longer survival but rather projections of lasting happiness and freedom. 

While many citizens do indeed strive for their vision, an even greater portion of the nation believes that the American Dream has passed its prime—being once attainable at the turn of the 20th century and since withered away amidst the modern forces of inequality or lack of morals. With the image of the white, family man climbing his ladder of luck to joy existing as a common caricature for the American Dream, it is easy to see why many do not perceive the concept as being the same for people of color. If its symbolism is generally that of a white, nuclear family, then those who do not fit such criteria may feel excluded from what the American Dream has to offer. Furthermore, with a major foundation resting in everyone finding happiness, the case can be made that a modern world rife with inequality essentially kills off the principles of the idea. 

Other dissenters seem to have buried the American Dream along with an age long past. They have heard or lived the stories of bygone generations filled with tradition, middle-class integrity, and honest joy, all of which modernity has, for them, torn to pieces. These Americans look at the current age as simply a time filled with children unable to return to, or rejuvenate, the golden age of their parents. 

But with this all being said, in the end, both groups can grapple over the vitality of this American promise all they want. However, it seems to me that regardless of their stance, each fails to understand that the promise itself—lasting happiness—can not be fulfilled via a perfect, often material, lifestyle. People seem to harbor a curiosity that drives a need for pleasure, A pleasure all too often cursed to an unfulfilling end. This transient satisfaction is not bound to 20th-century American values and lifestyles but is in fact ingrained in the very roots of human nature. The great philosopher Edmund Burke once described curiosity as “the first and simplest emotion” which “engage[s] merely by […] novelty” seeing as it is the “most superficial of all the affections.” Without curiosity, there is no American Dream. The emotion exists down to the metaphorical molecular level of this patriotic concept. It holds a myopic focus on the future where discovery becomes monotony and curiosity lingers on, hoping for the next horizon. 

In the classic context of the American Dream, this curious American crosses the Atlantic with the hope of freedom. He braves the Sierra Nevadas in his wagon, and even commutes on the 6:03 into the city each morning with a mental image of pastoral bliss. There is no distinction between the frontiersman and the commuter; both are driven by curiosity—and the thought of a fulfilling future—making curiosity a deeply American concept. But what happens when the mountain is crossed, when the slog of constant work leads nowhere? Since this joy can not last, the curious American looks to the next thing, and then the next, until dissatisfaction is the only outcome. This materialistic and futuristic approach to happiness through the American Dream can not last. The future does not always arrive in the way projected and, even if it did, time will likely lead to new curiosities and allow the dreamer to become restless and unhappy once again. 

The problem with the American Dream is that it projects its happiness onto a later moment, and this constant obsession with what will be entirely dismisses what is. Thoreau once spoke on this matter and shared his thoughts on how man must find his “eternity in each moment” for it is foolish to “stand on [one’s] island of opportunit[y] and look toward another land.” The truth is, as Thoreau believes, that “there is no other land; there is no other life but this.” Sure, humanity can surmise about potential, can dream of its fantasmal visions of utopia and hope, and strive for a better future. The only issue is that while man is dreaming, the things that exist right before him are never fully experienced. It is in this way that Thoreau’s words resonate because the other life—the other island and the happiness dwelling within it—has no foothold in reality but rather is simply a short-lived fantasy. The American Dream runs through the rivers and streams of this other land, it is its lifeblood, which is why it might never properly satisfy. The people here right now, and the lives each person lives at this moment, are where joy can be found.

Then again I could perhaps be wrong altogether. Perhaps the beauty of the American Dream lies in creating a better future, not for us but for the generations that live after us. Or maybe the state of modern America is so rife with inequality and moral depravity that it is near impossible for many of its citizens to find joy in the present. But my advice, if any, is to fight and work for a better life, as most tend to do, yet live with what is around you and learn to love it. If people do not stop and appreciate what they have, they will find themselves to be a stranger when time runs out—questioning the sudden growth of their children, pining for memories and voices that have drawn them into silence—all the while wondering: was it all just a dream?

The opinions expressed within this piece represent the views of the author alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Jefferson Independent.