Most of us worry about what we consume.
Food. Content. Money. Information. Experiences.
Rarely do we ask a more important question:
What is consuming me?
Because given enough time, whatever we consume eventually consumes us.
Not in a dramatic way. In a subtle way.
Through habits.
Through identity.
Through attachment.
Through the quiet assumption that what once served us must continue forever.
A tool becomes a routine.
A routine becomes a habit.
A habit becomes a need.
A need becomes a prison.
What began as something we used gradually becomes something that uses us.
The line is crossed so slowly that we often don’t notice it.
Take wealth.
Many people begin with a perfectly reasonable goal.
To provide for a family.
To create security.
To gain freedom.
To reduce anxiety about the future.
There is nothing wrong with any of this.
In fact, these are worthy goals.
But somewhere along the way the original objective disappears.
The pursuit continues long after the need has been met.
The wealth that was meant to serve life gradually becomes life itself.
The number has no finish line.
The game has no end.
And before long we are trading our health, our attention and our time for something that can never say, “Enough.”
What we consume has begun consuming us.
The same happens with health.
A specific diet might serve a purpose.
A training programme might suit a season of life.
A fitness goal may help us achieve something meaningful.
But bodies evolve.
Circumstances evolve.
Life evolves.
What worked ten years ago may not work today.
Yet many people continue following the same rituals long after they have outlived their usefulness.
Not because they still serve them.
But because they have become attached to them.
The process itself becomes sacred.
The identity becomes fixed.
The habit takes over.
Relationships are no different.
A relationship is meant to be alive.
It needs attention.
Listening.
Reflection.
Adjustment.
Growth.
Without revisiting assumptions, even love can turn into repetition.
We stop meeting the person in front of us and start interacting with the version stored in our memory.
The relationship remains.
But the connection slowly fades.
The same can be said for careers.
Networks.
Status.
Knowledge.
Even spirituality.
Anything pursued unconsciously can become an attachment.
Anything attached to can become an identity.
Anything identified with can become a source of suffering.
This is why I increasingly see life as a series of periodic reviews.
Not annual performance reviews.
Personal reviews.
What am I doing?
Why am I doing it?
Does this still serve me?
What season of life was this habit designed for?
Am I using it?
Or is it using me?
The answer often changes.
And that is perfectly okay.
There is another kind of consumption, however, that feels very different.
The consumption associated with being rather than doing.
Being present.
Being aware.
Being grateful.
Being conscious of God.
Being connected to something larger than oneself.
The more I reflect on this, the more I feel that these are the only things worth being consumed by.
Because unlike worldly pursuits, they do not create greater attachment.
They create greater freedom.
They do not inflate the ego.
They dissolve it.
They do not make us cling harder to outcomes.
They help us act sincerely while remaining detached from the fruits of action.
There is effort.
But there is less struggle.
There is action.
But there is less anxiety.
There is participation.
But there is less possession.
Perhaps this is why so many traditions invite us to remember God continuously.
Not because God needs remembrance.
But because we need perspective.
A mind attached to the infinite is less likely to be consumed by the temporary.
There is also a rather amusing reminder hidden within nature itself.
All our lives we consume.
Plants.
Animals.
Bacteria.
Resources.
We sanitize our surroundings.
We protect ourselves from countless invisible organisms.
Yet when life ends, nature quietly reverses the equation.
The organisms we spent a lifetime resisting eventually consume us.
The consumer becomes the consumed.
The cycle completes itself.
A literal reminder that every action has a reaction.
Every choice has a consequence.
Every consumption leaves a trace.
Perhaps that is what karma really points towards.
Not punishment.
Not reward.
Simply consequences unfolding over time.
Some arrive immediately.
Some take decades.
Some are inherited.
Some are unseen.
But none disappear.
So I keep returning to a simple question:
What am I allowing to consume me?
Money?
Status?
Health?
Relationships?
Knowledge?
Success?
Spirituality?
God?
Not all forms of consumption are equal.
Some narrow life.
Some enrich life.
Some create attachment.
Some create freedom.
The wisdom, perhaps, is not in consuming less.
The wisdom is in choosing carefully what we allow to consume us.
Because eventually, it will.
What you consume consumes you. Choose wisely.