It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? In theory, yes. In execution, not always. Familial interactions, monetary woes, and other holiday hazards can spell trouble for many of us, which can feel like added weight to an ever-increasing stock of responsibilities.

At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about how envy can be a source of discouragement and motivation simultaneously. This issue, I plan to take it to the other extreme and explain what happens when you have everything you could ever want. What happens next? Well, in the tradition of diving into a pool of Stoic wisdom, the ancient philosopher Seneca the Younger would say that the only way to go once you’re at the top is down.

Although our species has always lusted over inanimate objects like gold, oil paintings, or just about any other status symbol, the sort of rabid desire that sparks Black Friday brawls and Cyber Monday hysteria every year is a much newer phenomenon that only really came about in the 20th century. And it is the greatest example of how consumerism has gotten out of hand,  hijacking our collective consciousness like some kind of hallucinogen.

Consumerism is a socioeconomic model built upon the engineering of desire. That materialistic urge that powers capitalism has always existed within the human psyche. In the early 20th century, however, the advertising industry began to use psychological techniques to pour gasoline onto those flames of yearning, exploiting us, making us desire more passionately than ever, to the point that some of us are now prepared to throw punches over discounted flat-screen TVs.

So we live in a perpetual state of wanting more and more goods that usually have very little intrinsic value because we want to live “the life.” I urge you to stop and imagine what would happen if you were living “the life.” What would you have? Why? What would a typical day be like? What would you have to do to get all of the material goods you ever wanted?

At a certain point, being ultra-rich gets boring. First, you have the thrill of getting something new, whatever it is. The high is short-lived. Then you start to run out of things to buy.

In third grade, for instance, my obsession with cars and robots was rapidly increasing. At the time, the third installment of Michael Bay’s live-action “Transformers” movie was being shot. My mother took me downtown to see my favorite Transformers in real life: Ratchet, Ironhide, Optimus Prime, and so on. And when I was done taking pictures, I wanted to go to the nearby mall to get a new LEGO set.

I went all the way to the top floor, walked through Nordstrom, and sped to a $60 kit propped up at the front of the LEGO store. It was at this moment that I began to beg my mother to buy me Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing LEGO set. And she did.
But she shouldn’t have.
Two years later, I came right back to my parents asking for an iPhone, my ultimate goal. Or so I thought.

Once I got the iPhone, I was thrilled for weeks. But that excitement died off, and I was left feeling more empty than I was before I had the phone. Prior to the phone, I was a kid who liked to play football and building things. The iPhone was a manifestation of constant internet connection and overstimulation that made me grow up prematurely. I never quite returned to my previous self.
When you have everything, there is nothing to work towards. It is more than easy to lose your purpose in life. You feel not only purposeless but numb to anything that is not better than you already have.

That notion connects back to Seneca’s philosophy. He claimed that the more you want, the poorer you will feel. And this is provable. Once you are past a certain threshold, poverty is only a state of mind, and your happiness is no longer dependent on the material goods you have.

Take this example: If you had the option for your first car ever to be a Ford Escape or a Lamborghini Aventador—free of charge—you would probably pick the second option. But if five years down the road you decide to buy a Ford Escape for your family, driving that car will feel relatively lame. Pathetic. The bright side about envy is that it can be as motivational as it is discouraging. But for the person who is envied, they have no motivation to do anything else.

A recent study published by Princeton University’s Woodrow Wilson School found $75,000 to be the ideal income for life satisfaction in Northern America. And that’s where the correlation ends. Earnings past that point tended to coincide with lower levels of happiness and well-being, researchers found.

At $75,000, people probably have enough expendable cash to do things that make them feel good, like going out with friends. It comes to reiterate that poverty or wealth is more of a state of mind than we consider. High incomes don’t bring you happiness. They bring you a life you think is better.

When you make a wish list this year, try adding non-material things. For example, when I first got that LEGO X-Wing set in third grade, I should have focused more on spending time with my mother, or looking at the view from the window of a high-rise building.

I don’t want to be cliché and say that the best things in the world aren’t things, but that is exactly what I want you to take away from this piece. Savor the experience of shopping as much as what you buy. Be intentional with what you buy. Do not give in to your impulses. Try to pay attention to the ratio between the value you allocate to consumer goods and non-material goods, such as happiness, belonging, meaning, fulfillment, self-actualization, and leisure.

Do not let the heightened consumerism at this time of year get to your head. I encourage commerce for economic activity and genuinely believe that this is a wonderful time of year. I am not trying to rain on anyone’s parade, and I am not the Grinch—or am I? Just please avoid shopping yourself into oblivion. Happy holidays.