Stop devouring the world.

Try offering something to it, instead.

In my first post here, I dive into the qualms I have with myself over being (far) more of a consumer than I am a creator.

I think it’s worth sharing what it means to me to be a consumer, so that we can start this journey together with a shared understanding of where we are right now and where we’d like to go. “We” assumes that you’re also starting this journey and we’re in this together. But, of course, you don’t have to commit to that if you’d rather just consume your life away… 😂

Being a consumer means more than embracing “consumer culture” (spending more and more $$$ on material goods), though grabbing those four — or 10 — extra nice-to-haves (vs need-to-haves) every week at Target plays a part in being a consumer. Consuming is also not just about calories you’re taking in — e.g. the many Theo chocolate bars I devour because Theo is on sale every other week, so how could I not. (For what it’s worth, I always get dark chocolate, so it doubles as my multivitamin.)

My identity as a consumer includes the things I buy and the food I eat, yes, and also the videos I watch (e.g. on YouTube, Netflix, Instagram), the podcasts I listen to (e.g. Tara Brach, Joe Rogan, Brené Brown, Tim Ferriss, Rich Roll; yes, I enjoy these and many more — I’m not a fan of cancel culture; and listening to Joe Rogan doesn’t automatically make you a terrible person or a d-bag bro, but more on that another time), the books I read, the ideas I engage with, and the people I actively choose to keep in my life.

All of these categories carry more weight than we often realize or give them credit for, but the last piece feels like the most important to get right. You’ve likely heard the theory that the five people you spend the most time with shape who you are. This may or may not hold true, depending on many factors (how self-assured vs how easily influenced you are, for one). Even if it’s not perfectly true, it feels inevitable that you start to consume, to some degree, whatever the people you spend your time with consume. That may be the food they love to eat or the content they are addicted to absorbing. This secondhand consumption may or may not lead to firsthand consumption: you taking on these same patterns and behaviors as your own. I’m guessing that more often than not, it does.

As a very simple example, my husband is addicted to tortilla chips. I rarely used to eat chips unless I was at a Mexican restaurant (minus one phase in my life as a recent college grad when my roommates and I regularly bought the 20 (maybe more?) lb Costco chip bags because we were sure we couldn’t afford to eat real food). I now eat chips almost every day. Pretty strong, observable shift in my own behavior that’s a direct result of who I live with. There is almost always a bag of chips open in our house, so when I pass through the kitchen and feel mildly bored… why not have a few chips as entertainment?! As a chronic boredom eater, this is a ridiculously easy consumption trap for me to fall into when I’m not feeling very aware of or attuned to my hunger cues. Me eating chips every day is, unfortunately for me, not my husband’s fault. But it did happen because I unconsciously, at some point in time, decided to participate in his chip-eating madness 😂 It (chip eating) was something happening near me every day, and I allowed the ease and momentum of it to scoop me up. I don’t think I ever made this decision consciously, or if I did, it’s because it seemed like a relatively benign habit. Until all of a sudden, it wasn’t. I had a sudden realization one day that I felt really icky after snacking on chips all day long. I needed to become aware of and disenchanted by my consumption habit in order to change it (shoutout to Dr. Jud for introducing me to this framework).

A lot of us participate in unconscious consumption that makes us feel icky, bit by bit, without our realizing it. Until one day, if we’re lucky, the ick gets so great that it’s impossible to ignore. Then, if we’re extra lucky, we’re willing to be honest with ourselves about how we got to this place and what we’re willing to do about it (the easy way out is to blame someone else, pleading powerlessness, and thus to stay stuck in the ick forever).

A less obvious secondhand consumption trap might be the news source our best friend follows. The ideas and content that our family, friends, and community consume inevitably shape their worldview, even if ever so slightly, and then inform how they engage with us. Maybe it’s overt — they quote an article to us or march in a local protest. But perhaps it’s subtle — they suddenly start to complain about small annoyances that never used to bother them.

Secondhand consumption is sneaky in that it’s impossible to avoid — we survive as a species because we live in a relational world, supporting one another, exchanging ideas, and engaging with one another constantly — and it can be tricky to untangle others’ actions and beliefs from our own identities. Like the chips that found their way into my belly every afternoon without my ever setting that intention, we allow the crumbs of others’ experiences into our lives every day.

We’ve (probably) all had perfectly fine days ruined because an angry stranger took out their frustration on us. The problem is when we consume their frustration — taking it on as our own, metamorphosing our potentially benign secondhand consumption into a lethal firsthand experience. We choose to embody the frustration that someone mindlessly throws our way, and then we pass it along to others, ruining their days too. There are so many other ways we could respond to this angry stranger situation. We could do our best to embody one of life’s core agreements, as shared by don Miguel Ruiz, and just not take it personally; this is often easier said than done. We could try to mindfully disarm the angry stranger, engaging with them from a place of love and understanding, perhaps shifting their own frustration into something less harmful because they now feel seen and heard by us. (This is my take on a verbal/emotional Aikido approach, and might feel even less plausible than the first option.)

Or, we can take the easiest route, rolling with the momentum of the anger and frustration that’s been hurled at us. We can let the snowball pick us up and wrap us around it — we become one with it — and then we continue to barrel down the hill, knocking down and scooping up as many others as we can along the way. At least we know we’ll never be alone.

We can all come up with a million reasons not to be the bigger person — no matter the situation. If someone literally attacks you (verbally or physically), what kind of world would we live in if we just give them love and kindness in return, rather than attack back and make them feel their own pain?

I’m not saying not to stand up for what you believe in. I’m not saying to let someone stomp all over you while you sit there, smiling and nodding. I know there are infinite scenarios where what I’m proposing feels preposterous, wrong, even immoral. Let’s acknowledge that and get to the actual point here: we often devour the world around us without thinking twice. We eat the chips and we snap at strangers (and people we love), because someone else was eating chips and someone else snapped at us.

This mindless secondhand consumption, that morphs into firsthand, feels linked to a subtle undercurrent of entitlement that’s kept me in a comfortable orbit of limited growth my entire adult life. I’m not entirely sure when or why I picked up entitlement, but I’ve held on tight. I’ve carried some sense that I deserve an easy pass in life; to take more than I give. To consume all that sounds and looks and tastes good in the world around me, and to offer my bare minimum in return.

I deserve to take it easy. I deserve a break. (From… my relatively soft life?)

My mom called me out on this years ago and it sucked. I was in my early 20s and visiting my parents at home in D.C. After finishing my dinner, I sat down in the living room. I can’t remember what I was doing — probably scrolling on my phone or maybe reading a book. My mom asked me to help clean and load the dishwasher and I snapped at her for reminding me to do it. I said I was obviously going to do it after taking a break. (I’m almost sure I wouldn’t have if she hadn’t reminded me or if I felt I could get away with it.)

So many things happened in a few back and forths. She knew I had no intention of loading the dishwasher, and I knew she knew I had no intention of loading the dishwasher. She called me out on often waiting for others to pitch in before bothering to budge. I can’t remember her exact words, but they stung; definitely because she’s my mom (the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally, cheer me on no matter what, coddle me, cook for me, clean for me), but mostly because they were true. I was acting like a child and I was livid that she called me on it, that she wasn’t letting me get away with my overconsumption and overindulgence of life and of others.

I loved to take more than I gave, and I wanted to keep living that way. There’s no place where this feels better to do so than in the comfort of your parents’ home, and my mom was taking that away from me.

We all know these people. The people who make big deals about the smallest tasks. The people who want to wave their magic wands and have everything worth working for in life handed to them, because they deserve a break.

If you think maybe this is you, but you’re not really sure — it probably is.

It’s me, too. I consume the world around me. It’s fun, it tastes good, it’s easier than offering anything in return, and for the most part, I’ve gotten away with it.

But it doesn’t seem to make me happy. Every day, I start back at 0 and try to fill up on as much as I can before bed, only to wake up with a renewed hunger and craving.

Very, very recently, I’ve tried on a new approach. Rather than consume everything that comes my way, I’m exercising a little discernment. No, I don’t actually want to take on your anger, but I would love to pass along your kindness! I don’t actually want to eat the chips every day (!!), but I do feel like trying new recipes! I don’t want to use up my energy being angry at entire populations and political parties — I want to be allowed to respect every person as a human being wanting desperately to be seen and to matter. Focusing on what I can offer or give back to the world has given me so much more energy.

I think all this consumption — of dull foods; of dull ideas; of 15 second sound bites — allows us to forget who we really are and what really matters. It seems to literally dull our senses. When we stop challenging and inviting ourselves to create, we too often angrily barrel down the steep hill of consumption, taking out anyone who gets in our way. On the other hand, when we decide to create something, to offer something of our own (however small!), we seem to operate from a place of infinite renewable energy. At least that’s what I’m starting to notice.

So when I set my intention to consume less and create more, this is a bit of what’s going on in my head.

As I’ve shared before, this Substack is one way I’m exploring more creation. These are the thoughts and conversations I often have with my husband, my mom, and my best friend, but I sense there are many others out there who have a lot of thoughts on these topics. If that’s you, please share in a thread here!

My thoughts on this are in constant motion as I try to untangle my worldview from that of those around me, and I’d love to learn from you.

Thanks for being here. I hope you choose to share something positive with the world today :)

Thank you for being here. I can’t wait to keep untangling this all with you :) I’ll continue to share what’s on my mind every week. Some of it may excite you and some of it may upset you. Some of it may bore you (my writing muscles have atrophied; I’m grateful for this space to rebuild strength!). My sincere hope, if you choose to stick around, is that you’re willing to reflect and engage with an open mind and heart.