It’s my first time in the land of Disney. Paul has a techie convention here, and I came for the ride. It’s warm and friendly. Also very difficult to leave without a car which is exorbitant to rent. It reminds me a bit of the movie The Truman Show.
The resorts and 'kingdoms' are islands of construction in an ocean of swamp and impenetrable tropical forest, home to wild storks, egrets and the like, even an alligator (!) who patrols a liminal drainage ditch, I mean pond.
Inside, welcome to stone bridges made of painted concrete blocks and housekeeping staff in alleged Mexican aprons (this resort’s theme is the Southwest) made of embroidered Mickey Mouse logos.
It’s lovely here, yet I feel stifled. Why? This is Walt’s creation: a land where his imagination became three-dimensional.
Aren’t we each of us ever living in the world built by our own imaginations?
I want to make mine truly my own, with all the mistakes and pitfalls that entails. Someone else’s idea of safe haven may charm me for a while, but after a while I feel that charm presents a greater danger than any I could face on my own.
In its utter safety, I can take no meaningful risks, without which there is no fear, but also no possibility of brilliance and beauty.
And that possibility is what feeds me. Walt rolled his dice, and he both won and lost, if you know his story. I want to roll mine too.
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