The Problem of Plenty and Search for Mental Peace
The Problem of Plenty and Search for Mental Peace We live in an age where everything feels abundant, with endless information, choices, opportunities, gadgets, entertainment, and possessions. From the outside, it looks like the perfect recipe for happiness. Our ancestors struggled for survival, while we can have groceries delivered, access libraries from a phone, and connect instantly with people across the world. Yet, amid all this abundance, a strange restlessness grips modern life. The problem of plenty is not about scarcity of resources but it is about an overload of them. When everything is available, the mind becomes overwhelmed. Psychologists call this decision fatigue. The more choices we face, the more anxious and dissatisfied we become. Think about it. How many times have you scrolled endlessly through Netflix and then turned it off, unable to decide what to watch? Or spent hours comparing products online, only to end up unsure about what you really need? Abundance, ironically, breeds confusion. The same applies to success and wealth. The more we earn, the higher our expectations climb. Comfort quickly turns into necessity. Instead of satisfaction, we begin to feel pressure to maintain, to upgrade, to outdo. We chase the next milestone, hoping peace will arrive with it, but it rarely does. Peace of mind is no longer a natural state; it has become something we pursue through yoga classes, meditation apps, or digital detox weekends. Yet peace was once the default condition of a simple life. In the Japanese philosophy of Ikigai, the people of Okinawa are known to live long and content lives not because they have much, but because they find joy in having enough. As Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles write in Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life, “The happiest people are not the ones who achieve the most. They are the ones who spend more time than others in a state of flow.” True peace does not come from reducing our possessions alone, but from reducing our attachment to them. It begins when we stop measuring our worth by what we own or achieve and start valuing what we feel and experience. A cluttered home can be cleared in a weekend, but a cluttered mind takes patience, discipline, and self-awareness. Peace begins when we make space not just in our schedules, but in our hearts and thoughts. As the Dalai Lama reminds us, “We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves.” When abundance aligns with awareness, plenty can transform from a problem into a blessing. Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden, “A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.” Nowdays, everyone seems to be chasing something fame, trends, or the lifestyle of those already in the spotlight. Social media has turned comparison into a daily habit, and many people try to copy what celebrities do, believing that success or recognition will bring peace. Yet, those who seem to “have it all” often speak about the emptiness behind excess. Actor Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.” His words echo a deep truth that the material success can fill our homes but not our hearts. Similarly, Keanu Reeves, known for his humility despite fame, shared, “Money doesn’t mean anything to me. I’ve made a lot of money, but I want to enjoy life and not stress about building my bank account.” Even spiritual voices remind us of the same wisdom. Oprah Winfrey, reflecting on her journey, said, “The big secret in life is that there is no big secret. Whatever your goal, you can get there if you’re willing to work.” Yet, she also emphasizes that real joy comes from gratitude and balance, not from constant striving. Their words remind us that peace is not found in being seen, followed, admired or having plenty but it is found in being content with who we are when the noise fades and the lights dim. When I reflect on my own journey, this truth feels deeply personal. I was born in the desert Tharparkar in southern Pakistan, one of the most remote and economically challenged areas of the country. My father was a labourer who worked tirelessly so that we could dream bigger than our surroundings allowed. I grew up without resources, without connections, and often without certainty about the future. Getting admission to a university for my bachelor’s degree was itself a battle; financially, socially, and emotionally. Yet every step forward became a new beginning like earning scholarships, completing my higher education, traveling across countries, and now pursuing a PhD in Italy. Each milestone felt like a mountain climbed against all odds. And yet, when I look back today, I realize that the path though filled with success stories is not the same as peace of mind. Achievement brought satisfaction, yes, but not always serenity. I learned that peace isn’t found in the applause of others or in the degrees and scholarships we collect. It lives quietly in moments of gratitude. When I remember my father’s tired hands, the sand dunes of my childhood, and the small library I once dreamed of building for other kids like me. Though I have come a long way from Tharparkar, my deepest journey continues inward, in search of peace, modesty, and meaning. Like Ikigai teaches, purpose is not something we chase. It is something we live every day, through our work, our compassion, and our balance. Peace of mind isn’t something far away; it lives quietly within us, waiting for care. In a world of endless choices and possessions, the goal isn’t to have more but to wisely and prioritize what truly matters. That’s the true lesson behind The Problem of Plenty and the Search for Peace of Mind. Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Logged in as admin. Edit your
