When Is Enough Enough?

When we are young, a stick of gum might be enough to make us happy; later in life, the drive to acquire is still there—with an eye to more significant items. Biba Kayewich

Recently, I went with my son and grandson to a small-college basketball game. My son is the coach of one of the teams, and I was along for the ride to amuse my 6-year-old grandson, Hank. Except for the game, which our team lost, all went well, and we returned to my son’s home.

Hank ran inside, and I was just walking to my car when grandson No. 2, age 5, plodded slump-shouldered toward me across the lawn.

Thinking that he was upset about being left with his mom at home, I put on a cheerful smile and said, “What’s wrong, little buddy?” He stopped a couple of feet away, looked at me, and said with tears in his eyes, “Hank got gum.”

“Come with me,” I said, and at the car, I held out the open pack of gum from which I had served Hank. The kid took a stick, handed me the wrapping, and popped the peppermint gum into his mouth. Seconds later, a smile brushed the clouds from his face.

A small thing, right? Inconsequential. A stick of gum and happiness regained. Yet, that moment replayed itself in my mind for the rest of the evening. Initially, I chuckled, wishing that all of life’s problems could be so easily solved. A 15-cent flavored, elastic rectangle, and all was set right in his world.

But my thoughts didn’t end there.

When we are young, a stick of gum might be enough to make us happy; later in life, the drive to acquire is still there—with an eye to more significant items. Biba Kayewich

Buying Happiness

Many of us, it occurred to me, can spend a lifetime chasing after a stick of gum, metaphorically speaking. We pursue goods and services, wealth, pleasure, and luxuries, convinced that acquisition and ownership will bring us happiness. If we could exchange our modest, three-bedroom home in town for five bedrooms on three acres in the countryside, our lives would vastly improve. If we could hit the big time in our profession, doubling our salary and becoming a poster child for corporate success, life would be a dream.

And some of us get that piece of gum. We buy our country home and even add a vacation property at the beach. We order clothing once unaffordable, put it on, and feel like a million bucks, especially after buying matching accouterments; we sign over a large check to a local charity and bask in the applause; we daily review our bank accounts, our savings, and our stocks, and tell ourselves we’ve finally made it.

But is that true? Or is it more likely the case that, as with my grandson’s gum, our possessions eventually lose their zest and we need more and more material stimulation to keep us happy and entertained?

The Hedonic Treadmill

Also called hedonic adaptation, the hedonic treadmill is a term used to describe the human tendency to revert back to a personal benchmark of happiness once some positive event has lost its original luster. The woman just out of college now earns a salary that allows her to afford a gym membership. For the first several weeks, she feels special every time she goes into that establishment, but eventually, the novelty wears away, and the gym becomes routine, a backdrop to her day.

The danger here is that when a new pleasure becomes routine, some of us feel compelled to look for another stick of gum, so to speak, another flavor. Instead of appreciating what we have, we need another high, another buzz. We receive a promotion at work, for example, that brings more money and privileges, and for a bit, we revel in our new status. As we settle into our new duties, however, we’re soon thinking about the next step up the ladder instead of being grateful for what we have attained.

In “Wanting Other Things,” Andy Puddicombe nails hedonic adaptation when he writes: “The mind becomes like an excited dog, wagging its tail and waiting to chase after the next ball. Or worse still, like a dog chasing after its own tail! As a result, the mind is focused on what might happen or could happen, rather than what is actually happening right now. So in chasing after the future, we miss out on the present.”

Remedies

Any number of online sites feature professionals and others discussing this hedonic treadmill, and many of them recommend the same antidotes to check what can become toxic poisons of the spirit. Nearly all these counselors, for instance, first point to gratitude as a way to quell this lust for more things. Whether it’s a nice home, a satisfying job, close friends, or a good marriage, when we pause daily to appreciate the good things in our lives, that intentional act of satisfaction can usually rid us of any burning desire to go out and buy more things.

Comparing ourselves to others can also fuel this craving for more, more, and more. On social media, we often see people we know who seem to “have it all,” whose children are winning scholarships and sports trophies, who vacation every winter in Hawaii, and who receive promotions and bonuses beyond our wildest dreams. These sorts of images can turn us green with envy.

In “Never Compare Yourself to Others: 6 Reasons Why,” Alex Loredo writes that when we give way to this jealousy, enough is never enough:

“If we see someone who has something better, suddenly the things we have just don’t seem good enough. The problem with this cycle is that it doesn’t end. When we compare, we are forever searching for more.”

The advice from Loredo and others is to stop the comparisons and focus on yourself and your own life.

What Matters Most

We should bear in mind that the writers of these articles are generally talking about physical possessions, those sticks of gum that some of us long for. To want a better life and to become a better person is an entirely different matter. This desire to improve ourselves and the world around us is in fact one of the noblest and most worthy of human aspirations, sparking as it does inventiveness, compassion, and service to others.

Of course, this emphasis on the mind and spirit as a means to happiness rather than stacking up wealth and possessions is nothing new. In “Aristotle: Pioneer of Happiness,” for instance, the authors cite two short passages from the Greek philosopher’s “Nicomachean Ethics.” The first is the better-known teaching “Happiness is an activity of the soul in accordance with virtue.” In the second reference, Aristotle repeats this thought but includes a place for material possessions in his formula: “He is happy who lives in accordance with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with external goods, not for some chance period but throughout a complete life.”

“Sufficiently equipped” is key here. Once our basic necessities of life are met, we can begin separating our material “needs” from material “wants.” We can still treat ourselves from time to time, splurging on some item such as a new phone or dress, but we’ve escaped the wearisome, never-ending hedonic treadmill, no longer possessed by our possessions, no longer running after that next stick of gum.

It’s then that enough truly is enough.