Before the modern age — before the industrial and information revolutions — pleasure came at a cost. Things felt good because (a) they were good for survival (food, sex, warmth, victory), and (b) they were hard to obtain. The reward had to be strong enough to justify the effort.
Today, modernity has made pleasure cheap and easy. One can obtain dopamine on demand. The old ways still exist, but now there are shortcuts. These shortcuts offer a high reward-to-effort ratio, so the masses almost always choose them: pornography, processed food, digital entertainment, endless scrolling.
But the human animal — especially the male — did not evolve for this. Humanity evolved to struggle. To hunt. To fight. To build. To conquer. The reward was once tied to overcoming something. This truth has been forgotten.
The result? A species grown soft, anxious, numb, and depressed.
The human condition is one of perpetual wanting. This is its nature. But the easy path leads nowhere. Cheap pleasure is sterile. It creates nothing. It adds nothing. And it leaves one emptier than before.
Moreover, the human psyche feels pain more acutely than pleasure. A unit of suffering weighs more than a unit of joy. Thus one becomes biased toward avoiding discomfort, even when it means forgoing something greater. Most would rather avoid minor pain than pursue significant reward. This is why they choose what is easy now, even when it makes existence worse later.
The hedonist burns out. So does the one who abandons their path merely because it becomes difficult. Both end worse off than had they denied pleasure entirely.
Still, one remains human. The desire to feel good persists. This is not the problem. The challenge lies in balancing pleasure with purpose.
The solution is simple: earn your pleasure.
There exist endless means to feel good in any given moment. Most cost almost nothing and require no effort. But when one indulges excessively, one feels worse. The organism adapts. The pleasure fades. Life declines: less wealth, less strength, less focus, fewer skills.
Thus one must ask: can this pleasure be afforded?
Two categories of pleasure emerge:
- Pleasures one can afford at any time.
- Pleasures one cannot yet afford—because of money, time, or skill.
The first category divides further:
- Genuine indulgences: Ice cream, a walk, music, swimming. Small things pursued for their own sake. Harmless when practiced in moderation.
- Perverted indulgences: Pornography instead of intimacy. Binge eating instead of connection. Endless scrolling instead of rest. These are cheap substitutes for authentic experiences not yet earned.
The masses seek perverted indulgences to numb themselves. Not merely from pain, but from awareness — awareness of what they lack, what they have failed to pursue, who they have failed to become. Addiction becomes merely an attempt to drown consciousness until it disappears.
The cure for a fractured self is not escape — it is attention. The antidote to consciousness is not less consciousness, but more. Only by turning fully toward what one fears can the overcoming begin.
Perverted indulgences spring from weakness. Eliminate them.
Genuine indulgences serve one well — if they do not interfere with one's higher purposes.
To earn pleasure means this: one must not indulge unless it has been earned through effort, patience, or discipline. The difficult task comes first. Then one may enjoy.
This becomes a contract with oneself. A boundary drawn to keep chaos at bay.
And when one does earn it — when suffering precedes reward — the experience transcends anything cheaply obtained.