I recently had a great conversation that surfaced something interesting — our endless need for growth.
“If we or our business aren’t growing, it feels like we’re dying,” my friend said.
True to myself, this evoked some inner reflections.
Why are we running this infinite race of growth and optimization?
AI promises to give us more time. We chase more money, newer phones, better cars, bigger houses, and somehow, it still never feels enough.
The bar keeps moving. Like Zeno’s paradox, where no matter how fast Achilles runs, the tortoise always stays ahead.
When you join a race, you’re always running. There’s no time to stop or reflect. If you do, someone else will outrun you.
But what if the real race isn’t out there at all?
Maybe what’s underneath this constant running is our craving for external validation mixed with generations of conditioning that taught us we must always produce, optimize, and improve.
Since the Industrial Revolution, productivity has quietly become a moral value. To be still is to feel useless. We’ve built a world that rewards exhaustion and calls it ambition. And even knowing this, some days I catch myself checking my phone just to feel progress.
Another email, another ping, another illusion of momentum.
It’s not a new problem either. Seneca wrote about how busyness is often a form of avoidance. An escape from self-examination. We’ve simply industrialized it.
Somewhere along the way, efficiency replaced purpose. We stopped asking why we move and only focused on how fast.
By having what others want, we show the world that we’re valuable. That we matter. But this pursuit of validation is a fragile kind of meaning; it depends entirely on being seen by others.
Lately, I’ve been trying to shift that mindset. To move back toward what psychologists call an internal locus. Basically, validating myself from within.
I still care what others think, but to a healthier extent. Whatever I do or have, I want it to come from me, not from the need to show something to anyone else.
And about that constant optimization, I still fall into it. But I try to pause intentionally and make time for reflection. Because if you’re always running, when do you ever stop to ask where you’re running to?
Maybe growth isn’t about getting further ahead. Maybe it’s about finally stopping long enough to see where you are. And stopping isn’t the end of the race. It’s the start of something slower, quieter, and maybe truer.