Written June 2021, Copenhagen, Denmark
The world, in many ways, is designed to depress us. Because joy isn’t particularly good for the economy. If we were content with what we had, why would we need more? Luckily, we’re never satisfied. Because we’re all f*cking hedonists. We’re exceptional at wanting more, right after achieving what we thought would be the answer to all our prayers—and so the grind continues, unrelenting, until you’re in your grave, earthworms chewing on your skin, and all your earthly possessions turn out to have been utterly meaningless anyway.
But what if I told you there’s a way to hack the hedonic treadmill—the psychological pattern of constantly pursuing material gains for fleeting happiness.
Why More Is Never Enough
The modern world thrives on the illusion that more is always better. Bigger homes, fancier gadgets, more success—it seems like the constant pursuit of these things is what leads to happiness. You see, there’s a psychological trap we all fall into: the hedonic treadmill. Coined by psychologists Brickman and Campbell in 1971, it’s this idea that no matter how much we achieve—how much we gain—we return to a baseline level of happiness, leaving us hungry for the next upgrade.
The excitement of buying a new gadget or reaching a career milestone fades quickly, and we end up right back where we started, chasing after the next thing that promises happiness. It’s a cycle, a trap, and we’re all caught in it, running like hamsters on a wheel. But the truth is, this endless chasing often leaves us more exhausted and unfulfilled. I came to this realization not through some philosophical epiphany, but through the humbling experiences of traveling and living as a minimalist.
Lessons in Letting Go
In my earlier years, I was a hamster in trance. I lived in a cycle of mindless, ambitious goal-getting and seeking the next thing—a sequin dress for going out, expensive snake-venom-infused moisturizer to keep the crows feet at bay, or another overpriced, mediocre meal at a fancy Copenhagen restaurant. But here’s the truth: I was faking it the whole time. These items and bougie experiences didn’t bring me joy. Slaving away at university and a prestigious job didn’t bring me joy.
I was simply doing what everybody else was doing, thinking I was supposed to. Guess what? I didn’t have to. I was only at the very beginning of my authenticity journey, not yet having learned to be true to myself. It wasn’t until I sold most of my belongings and strapped a 60L backpack on, one-way ticket in hand, that I began to realize how little one actually needs. I learned that lesson the hard way because I had no idea the suffering I would endure now that I had to carry everything I owned. But let me tell you this — a 15-kilogram backpack? Not fun.
Freedom from Wanting More
As I ventured from Mexico to Brazil, I slowly began to shed the labels I had carried and believed about myself, as well as clothes and items that no longer served me. Everything that didn’t support my exploration to find my true essence had to go. Letting go, and moving onward with a lighter pack—both physically and emotionally—wasn’t just a matter of convenience; it was a matter of necessity.
I remember the first time I truly felt the freedom of minimalism. I was hiking through the Himalayas with nothing but my essentials. Well, to be honest, not even my essentials. I had just discovered the world of hiking and lacked every item possible that could’ve made the trip more comfortable, but with my new-found minimalism I powered through.
But minimalism, I discovered, isn’t about deprivation. It’s about freedom—freedom from the constant desire for more, more, more. As Epictetus wisely put it, “Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.” Letting go of excess didn’t just lighten my backpack; it lightened my mental load as well. It was as if the less I had, the more I was free to experience life fully.
Practicing Poverty
The ancient Stoics said that poverty isn’t about the absence of money or things. On the contrary, it’s the endless pursuit of more that makes you poor. I know what it’s like to be a grossly ambitious go-getter, running so fast that one day I suddenly felt the ground through the worn-out soles of my shoes. I also know what it’s like to live a bare-bones life. Still, I struggle to detach myself from my own imaginary race sometimes, thinking that I need to buy X or need to accomplish Y. But what the hell am I even running towards?
Maybe the cure for us all is a fundamental Stoic practice: voluntary poverty. The Stoics encouraged practicing poverty as a way to cultivate resilience and internal strength. Seneca, for example, wrote that we should “become accustomed to poverty, not by hard labor, but by avoiding luxury.” It wasn’t about forsaking material comfort for the sake of suffering; it was about freeing oneself from the hold that material desires have on us. The less we depend on external circumstances or possessions for our happiness, the more we can nurture the internal peace that Stoicism values so highly.
An Observation on Contentment
Through my travels, I also began to notice something unexpected. I had seen countless instances of poverty—communities in Central and South America where people owned very little, yet somehow seemed to have so much more joy than the friends I had back home. These people, with their modest homes and few material possessions, lived contentedly. They had something my affluent friends in Copenhagen seemed to lack: a deep sense of connection to each other and a quiet happiness in the small moments of life.
I thought about this contrast often—how my friends, living in large apartments with expensive leather couches and big flat-screen TVs, seemed to struggle with dissatisfaction. They were constantly upgrading their possessions, seeking new trends, trying to fill the gaps in their lives with things. Yet they didn’t seem any happier than those with far less.
The Stoics argued that true wealth comes not from the abundance of things but from the cultivation of inner virtues. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” This idea underscores the Stoic belief that peace and joy are not dependent on external circumstances, but on how we perceive and react to them.
How to Hack the Hedonic Treadmill
So, how do you hack hedonism? Broadly speaking, I think it’s about turning the externalized upgrade inward instead. Realizing that the moment you need less, you’ll have more. Stopping the belief that happiness is waiting just around the corner—because you might have already sped past it. And maybe reminding yourself that a salary is what most of us get to forget our dreams.
One of the most powerful lessons I learned on the road was that happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have. By letting go of the constant desire for more, I made room for what truly matters: presence, connection, and the richness of life itself. This shift aligns with findings in mindfulness research by Jon Kabat-Zinn, which shows that being fully present in the moment is one of the most effective ways to reduce stress and increase happiness. The more I traveled, the more I began to cultivate this sense of presence.
Final Thoughts
The Harvard Study of Adult Development, one of the longest-running studies on human happiness, found that the quality of our relationships—not the quantity of our possessions—is the key to a fulfilling life. The science backs it up, but I already knew it in my heart. True wealth isn’t found in what you own. It’s found in the connections you nurture, the peace you cultivate within yourself, and the life you choose to live—one that isn’t dictated by a never-ending chase for more.
I know now I’ll always be happier on a mountaintop than in some overpriced apartment. I know street tacos in Mexico taste better to me than Michelin-starred meals. And I know that detachment is the art of finding peace, even when the world tells you to want more. Breaking free from this cycle isn’t about depriving yourself. It’s about realizing that true happiness doesn’t come from having more.
As the old saying goes, “The secret to having it all is knowing you already do.”
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