"Somehow I reached excess without ever noticing when I was passing through satisfaction." - Ashleigh Brilliant

In an era defined by relentless consumption and the perpetual pursuit of more, philosopher Ashleigh Brilliant’s sage observation—"Somehow I reached excess without ever noticing when I was passing through satisfaction"—has never resonated more profoundly. The insidious creep of excess into modern life, often masked as aspiration or success, has left many questioning where the line between fulfillment and extravagance truly lies.

For decades, economic and cultural narratives have championed growth as an unyielding virtue, conditioning societies to equate happiness with accumulation—of wealth, possessions, influence, or even experiences. Yet, studies in behavioral economics and psychology continue to support Brilliant’s paradox: beyond a certain threshold, additional gains in wealth or material comfort yield diminishing returns on well-being. The hedonic treadmill, a concept coined by Brickman and Campbell in 1971, suggests that humans quickly adapt to new pleasures, perpetually resetting expectations upward—hence, satisfaction becomes ever more elusive, even to those who have "reached excess."

Consider the modern phenomenon of "lifestyle creep," where rising incomes are met not with increased savings or leisure but rather upgraded spending habits—fancier cars, larger homes, or trendier vacations. While harmless in moderation, this pattern exemplifies Brilliant’s incisive commentary: consumers are conditioned to pursue the next milestone before appreciating the present one, blurring the distinction between wants and needs. Social media exacerbates this, presenting curated narratives of opulence and accomplishment that distort societal benchmarks for happiness.

Furthermore, the concept extends beyond materialism. In work culture, the "hustle" ideology often glorifies relentless productivity while ignoring the value of contentment. Research by Prof. Brenna Henn of Duke University indicates that workers need neither maximum income nor minimal hours but rather the perception of sufficient resources—be they time, money, or recognition—to feel truly satisfied. Brilliant’s insight, then, serves as a reminder to reassess "enough," recognizing that optimization (finding the sweet spot) is more constructive than maximization (endlessly seeking the absolute peak).

If the pandemic has yielded any silver lining, it may be a forced recalibration of priorities. With restrictions on consumption and travel, many reported heightened appreciation for simple joys—daily routines, natural environments, or deeper connections— suggesting that satisfaction had been hiding in plain sight, overshadowed by the pursuit of superfluities. The challenge now is to hold onto that clarity amidst the recovery, understanding that fulfillment's greatest enemy is not scarcity but rather the obliviousness to sufficiency that Brilliant so eloquently describes.

As economies resume their drive toward growth, individual reckoning with Brilliant’s words might prove monumentally important. For societies grappling with sustainability, inequity, and the greying lines between ambition and greed, the embrace of "satisfaction" rather than "excess" could reshape progress itself—shifting focus from expansion to equilibrium, from accumulation to appreciation. Only then will the journey toward fulfillment cease being a relentless chase and become a mindful pause at the point where "enough" truly is enough.