The Quiet Chains of Consumerism

Lately I’ve been noticing something I can’t unsee. It’s kind of bondage, not quite like slavery with chains and force. It's much quieter, much smoother—and we often participate in it willingly.

In Buddhism, there’s the idea of the first arrow (the unavoidable pain of life) and the second arrow (the suffering we create by how we react to that pain.)

It struck me that our consumer culture thrives almost entirely on second arrows. It’s built to keep us feeling just a little “less than” all the time. Ads and trends whisper that our homes aren’t stylish enough, our bodies aren’t attractive enough, our lives aren’t exciting enough.

I saw a perfect example of this the other day. People are working their lives away to update a perfectly good kitchen or a bathroom. They aren't doing it because it's broken; they're doing it because of the relentless, conditioned feeling that they're supposed to. They are buying their way out of a feeling of inadequacy that the system itself created.

That’s what makes these chains so effective: we don’t even realise we’re wearing them. 

The real trap is that it feels like progress. 

We think we’re working for a better life, but often we’re just working to maintain a cycle that keeps us running. The chains are invisible, and they’re polished to look like freedom.

Maybe the way out isn’t grand or dramatic. Maybe it’s as simple as noticing the moment we feel “not enough” and choosing not to take the bait. Keeping the kitchen. Wearing last year’s coat. Allowing life to be imperfect and still worthy.

Not as an act of deprivation, but as an act of quiet freedom.