Our culture is obsessed with a single, very loud piece of advice. It’s on posters, it’s in graduation speeches, it’s the subtext of every billionaire interview. It’s a message fueled by a relentless engine of economic growth and the seductive myth of meritocracy.
DREAM BIG.
The message is clear: If your dream doesn’t terrify you, it’s not big enough. You should be aiming to summit Everest, to build a rocket ship, to become the CEO of Everything. The default assumption is that a bigger dream is always a better dream.
And then there’s your question. It’s a quiet, sane, and almost heretical question in our modern world:
“What if my dreams aren’t big? What if I’m happy with small dreams? Is it better to have big dreams and fail, or small dreams and succeed?”
This isn’t just a good question; it’s one of the most important questions a person can ask themselves. It’s a rebellion against the Cult of Bigness. And to understand it, we need to meet two people who live at the heart of this debate.
“People say, ‘Dream big.’ But what if some dreams are simply too big to reach? Is it better to chase Everest and fall, or to tend a small garden and thrive? Sometimes, fulfillment comes not from grandeur, but from finding joy in the simple things and doing what you love.”
Meet the Mountain Climber and the Gardener
First, let’s meet the Mountain Climber.
The Mountain Climber lives by the “Dream Big” mantra. His happiness, his sense of self-worth, is entirely invested in reaching the summit. He is fueled by dopamine hits of progress, the validation of others, and the fear of being ordinary. His identity is fused with the goal. The journey is 99.9% of his life, and that journey is mostly suffering: freezing cold, exhaustion, constant risk. But he endures it all for the promise of that 0.1% of glory at the peak.
Now, let’s meet the Gardener.
The Gardener’s dream is not to conquer a mountain. It’s to cultivate a small piece of the world. His joy doesn’t live in a single, future moment of triumph. It’s distributed across a thousand small, present moments. The feeling of the sun on his back. The satisfaction of pulling a weed. The quiet pride of seeing a tomato ripen. The joy of sharing the food he’s grown with family and friends. His work is an act of love, not an act of war.
Our culture tells us we should all be Mountain Climbers. That the Gardener is “settling,” that they lack ambition, that they’re playing it safe.
But what if the Gardener is actually the wiser one?
The Mountain Climber’s Paradox
The Mountain Climber’s life is a high-stakes gamble. There are two potential outcomes:
- He Fails. He gets halfway up and a storm hits. He runs out of funding. He realizes he just doesn’t have the physical or mental strength. In this scenario, his entire life’s work can feel like a failure. Because he pinned his self-worth to the summit, failing to reach it can trigger a catastrophic identity crisis.
- He Succeeds. He makes it! He stands on the summit, victorious. It’s a moment of pure, exhilarating triumph. But… it’s just a moment. And then what? He has to climb back down. And he often discovers that the feeling he was chasing disappears as soon as he achieves it. This is the great trap of big, external goals. We call it “arrival fallacy”—the mistaken belief that reaching a destination will make you permanently happy.
The Gardener’s life is different. It’s not a gamble; it’s a practice. There is no single moment of success or failure. The garden is never “done.” It’s a process. Some plants will fail, yes. Pests will arrive. A storm might damage a crop. But the Gardener’s identity isn’t tied to one specific plant. It’s tied to the act of gardening itself. His sense of purpose is renewed every single morning.
Who Profits From Your Big Dream?
It’s worth asking a cynical question: who benefits from the “Dream Big” narrative?
The answer is, the system does. A society of Mountain Climbers is a society of hyper-consumers and tireless workers.
- The Gear: Big dreams require expensive gear. The latest tech, the online courses, the productivity software, the networking event tickets.
- The Fuel: The hustle requires constant fuel. The energy drinks, the motivational seminars, the self-help books that promise the secret.
- The Labor: A person chasing a massive, distant goal is willing to sacrifice work-life balance, accept lower pay for a “prestigious” opportunity, and put their own well-being last. They are the perfect employee for a system that prioritizes growth above all else.
The Gardener, on the other hand, is a terrible consumer. He finds joy in simple, often free, activities. He is content with what he has. He has time for community, for rest, for thought. A society of Gardeners would be a nightmare for a growth-obsessed economy.
The Tyranny of the Big Dream
The “Dream Big” mantra isn’t just a piece of advice; it can be a form of psychological tyranny.
- Analysis Paralysis: When the goal is to “change the world,” the sheer scale of it can be paralyzing. Where do you even begin? The result is often not action, but endless planning, learning, and preparing, without ever starting. The first step on the path to Everest is so intimidating that many never take it.
- Chronic Dissatisfaction: The Mountain Climber lives in a perpetual state of “not there yet.” Every achievement is immediately minimized by the vast distance still to go. This creates a baseline of anxiety and a feeling of inadequacy, a constant sense that you are not enough.
- The Comparison Game: Big dreams force you into a league with giants. You’re no longer comparing yourself to your peers, but to the outliers of history—the Steve Jobs, the Elon Musks. This is a game you can’t win, and it’s designed to make you feel small.
- The Tyranny of the ‘Should’: The “Dream Big” mantra often becomes an internal voice of “should.” I should want to be a CEO. I should want to have a bigger impact. I should be dissatisfied with my simple life. This “should” is the voice of societal expectation, not authentic desire. It creates a rift between who we are and who we think we are supposed to be, which is a direct path to unhappiness. The Gardener’s power comes from replacing the “should” with a quiet “is.” This is my garden. This is my work. This is my joy.
The Ancient Wisdom of the Gardener
The Gardener’s philosophy isn’t new. It’s actually one of the oldest and most durable wisdom traditions in the world.
- The Epicureans in ancient Greece didn’t argue for wild, hedonistic parties. They argued for a Gardener’s life: finding the greatest pleasure in simple things, good friends, and freedom from fear. They would have thought the Mountain Climber was insane.
- The Stoics would have loved the Gardener. They taught that we should focus our energy only on what we can control. The Gardener controls his own patch of land—his effort, his attention. The Mountain Climber’s success depends on a thousand things he can’t control: the weather, the economy, his own genetic luck.
- Taoism and Buddhism are philosophies of the Gardener. They teach that meaning is found in the present moment, in the process, not in the grasping for a future outcome.
The person who says, “I just want to live a simple life, with my family and friends, and do what I love,” isn’t settling. He is making a profound, wise, and courageous choice. In a world that screams for more, he has decided what is enough. And knowing what is enough is a superpower.
It’s Not About the Size of the Dream, It’s About the Location of the Joy
Here’s the real secret: The problem isn’t “big dreams.” The problem is external dreams.
The Mountain Climber’s dream is external. It’s a physical place—a summit—that he believes holds the key to his happiness.
The Gardener’s dream is internal. It’s a way of being, a set of values he lives out every day.
You can have a “big” dream that is internal. For example, a dream to become a wiser, more compassionate person every day. That’s a huge, lifelong ambition, but the success is measured internally and daily. You can be a Gardener on a grand scale.
And you can have a “small” dream that is external. “I just want to own that specific car.” That’s a small goal, but it’s just as much of a trap as summiting Everest if you pin all your happiness on it.
So, the question isn’t “big vs. small.” The question is: “Is my sense of well-being tied to a future outcome, or to my present actions?”
The world needs a few Mountain Climbers. The people who are obsessed enough to cure diseases or invent new technologies are essential. But a society of only Mountain Climbers would be a frantic, anxious, miserable place.
A healthy world, like a healthy ecosystem, needs a huge diversity of life. It needs a few people aiming for the distant peaks. But it is sustained by the millions and millions of Gardeners, the people who are quietly and contentedly cultivating their own small patch of the world, making it a more beautiful, nourishing, and sane place for everyone.
Choosing to be a Gardener isn’t a failure of ambition. It’s a triumph of self-knowledge. It’s the radical act of building a happy life, not just a successful resume.
