Everything can be a drug
What our habits reveal about desire, relief and the freedom to choose

A drink to unwind. A purchase to lift the mood. Another hour of work to feel useful. A notification to reassure us that someone is thinking of us. Each can offer a small shift in how it feels to be ourselves. We return because something feels good, becomes easier or hurts a little less. But when does something that enriches our lives begin to govern them?

What are we really reaching for?
“Everything can become a drug” is a provocative statement. Scientifically, it is too broad. Clinical addiction involves impaired control and continuing despite harm; enjoying something intensely or finding comfort in a habit does not automatically constitute addiction. Still, the phrase invites us to examine our relationship with the things we repeatedly seek.

Work, exercise, shopping, recognition and the pursuit of wellbeing can bring meaning and pleasure. They can also become ways of avoiding feelings we find difficult to encounter. The same activity can serve different purposes at different moments. I can work because I am absorbed in an idea, because I need to earn a living, or because stopping brings me into contact with uncertainty. Sometimes all three are present. Understanding that requires more than looking at the behaviour. It asks us to become curious about what the behaviour provides.

The promise of a different feeling
Our brains learn from experiences that bring reward or reduce discomfort. Dopamine participates in motivation and in learning which cues predict rewarding experiences. In alcohol addiction, these associations and repeated patterns can become increasingly difficult to interrupt. Relief is an important part of this picture. We may return to something because it temporarily makes an uncomfortable state more bearable. We cannot assume that every everyday habit operates like substance addiction. But we can ask a useful question: what am I hoping will change when I reach for this?
Perhaps I want excitement. Perhaps reassurance. Perhaps I want to feel competent, wanted or briefly free from an unresolved worry. The answer may tell us more than the activity itself.

An ancient word for thirst
The Sanskrit word tṛṣṇā, often written as trishna, means thirst or craving. In Buddhist philosophy, its Pāli counterpart, taṇhā, describes craving that includes sensual pleasure, becoming and non-becoming. In Patañjali’s yoga philosophy, rāga describes attachment associated with pleasure, while dveṣa describes aversion associated with pain. These philosophical concepts invite us to observe how we hold on to experiences we enjoy and resist those we would rather avoid. Desire gives life movement. We want to learn, create, connect and explore. The question is whether we can remain curious about our desires while preserving the ability to choose how we respond. Can I enjoy something without demanding that it sustain me? Can I experience discomfort without immediately organising my life around escaping it?

When “more” becomes the default
Modern life offers countless invitations to improve. Become more productive, more visible, more attractive, more informed. Even wellbeing can become another unfinished assignment.
Erich Fromm questioned the authorities we willingly submit to and imagined a society in which consumption would no longer be life’s dominant motivation. His understanding of freedom emphasised our developing capacity for awareness and choice. That raises a question I keep returning to: how much of what we want have we consciously chosen?

Ambition can be deeply fulfilling. So can discipline and commitment. Yet if every achievement immediately becomes a new demand, we may lose the ability to recognise satisfaction when it arrives. There are also material realities to consider. Financial insecurity, caring responsibilities and limited support affect our choices. Reflection needs to include those circumstances, rather than treating every difficulty as a personal failure to find balance.

Reflection creates room for choice
Reflection offers an opportunity to examine what drives us without rushing to judge it.
What am I seeking? Is this meeting the need?
What does it cost?
What other response might be available?
Sometimes the answers call for practical changes or professional support.
Sometimes they reveal a habit we can begin to approach differently.

This is what we will explore in The Art of Reflection, the first of my three workshops beginning in February 2027, taught in English.

The series moves through The Art of Reflection, The Art of Responding and The Art of Possibility: understanding what drives us, creating greater room to choose, and translating insight into meaningful action.

Together, we will explore reflection as a resource for clarity, mental balance and emotional stability—and as a foundation for self-leadership and creativity.

Because seeing our patterns more clearly can help us discover possibilities we have been too busy repeating them to notice.