It’s been years since I last saw Fran in person. Our periodic reunions are marked by passionate discussions that never seem to pause. Sometimes, I ponder the number of times I’ll see friends like Fran again in my life. Realistically, I could probably count them on my fingers.
We humans often succumb to the allure of accumulating beyond our needs, be it books we have no time to read, followers we have no time to engage, or money we cannot spend meaningfully. This pursuit, while momentarily satisfying, ultimately leads to a sense of futility.
We readily accept the limitations of eating—whether wealthy or poor, there’s a cap on how many calories one can consume in a day. Dining at high-end restaurants daily would eventually pall. Warren Buffett and Bill Gates still find pleasure in McDonald’s, showing that wealth cannot dictate enjoyment.
However, it’s not just food that is constrained by physical limitations. Fame might offer the chance to meet millions, yet our capacity to truly know others remains unchanged. While hosting dinner parties with a dozen guests might seem efficient, intimate one-on-one meetings often yield deeper understanding and connections.
The belief that we can endlessly accumulate wealth and popularity is an illusion. In truth, they are no different from food. Anthropologist Robin Dunbar suggested that language evolved to overcome the social grooming limits of primates. However, I’d argue that language alone cannot fully replace these interactions. Delivering a powerful speech to millions doesn’t alleviate your loneliness.
Accumulating anything beyond its utility, including knowledge, is a form of addiction inherent in the structure of language. It deceives us into believing in the possibility of limitless enjoyment. Eating serves as a more immediate reminder of the impossibility. Famous or unknown, rich or poor, the pie is fixed for the enjoyment of life.
I will email you when I post a new article.
