WHAT ARE WE CHASING?

People often talk about the importance of finding answers, but I've realized that the real power lies in asking the right questions. 'Wander & Wonder' is the series about that very journey: from the days of 'wandering' aimlessly through crossroads and career decisions, to the moment of 'wonder'—the moment I dared to ask and began to seek solutions for my own concerns. Welcome to post #8 in the "Wander & Wonder" series, and let's reflect together on the question: "What are we chasing?"

Happiness by Steve Cutts

How do you feel after watching this video?

For me, the first time was a chilling, skeptical, fearful, and humbling experience. But subsequent viewings brought an emptiness that led to silence…

In my early years in the profession, I was captivated by the glamorous facade of marketing. I loved the clever ideas, the carefully chosen words, the images that stirred people's hearts. Back then, I didn't think too deeply about life; I was simply intoxicated by the joy of creativity.

Until one night in late 2018. I came home at 11 PM, exhausted from a long day of juggling multiple tasks and jobs. The room was empty as my father and my little one had already gone to sleep. I sat in silence and asked myself: "What am I doing all this for, when I'm missing the most important moments of my life?" That question burrowed deep inside me. And in that stream of thought, I found myself typing the question "What is happiness?" and stumbled upon the short film "Happiness." This silent film was like a cold mirror, a wordless answer to my question. It laid everything bare. And since then, I have rewatched it a few times whenever I am alone and contemplating things.

The maze of choices

Around that same time, I looked back and began to doubt my own work, which was probably when I sought out coaching. "Are we truly free to decide, or have our choices been shaped by our environment, education, and culture?" The video "Happiness" seemed to answer that question cruelly. The mice in the film think they are freely choosing to buy an item, to drink a beer. But all their choices are within a pre-constructed maze.

And I realized that marketing is one of the master architects of that maze. We don't force anyone to buy our products. Instead, we skillfully create a limited menu of options, making consumers feel powerful when they choose "item A" over "item B," without realizing that the entire menu was designed to serve a single purpose. We give them the illusion of choice.

I think about fast food, sugary drinks, or a bottle of shampoo or body wash that takes decades to disclose certain ingredients. I think about airline tickets that are cheap in price but costly in time, energy, and emotional well-being due to a poor experience. I think about consumer loans that exceed the borrower's ability to repay, about an advanced electric car that not everyone needs, about video platforms where success is measured by who can steal the most of other people's time, about clothes, jewelry, and accessories that deceive a person about their true worth. I think about the presence of sugar, which I hear so much about lately, and even more abstract things like education, religion, or politics... All of them bear the mark of marketing's involvement and are all "choices" sophisticatedly packaged to make us believe we are free, that we are in control of our lives, when in reality, we are merely following paths laid out by others who are also running in their own mazes.

The Hedonic Treadmill

There's a concept called the "Hedonic Treadmill," which suggests that humans tend to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness after major positive or negative events. Simply put, the joy from buying a new item fades quickly, and to get that feeling back, we have to buy another, and so the cycle continues.

That is precisely what the mouse in the video experiences. A temporary hit, a brief pleasure, and then again, an emptiness, a new void that needs to be filled.

I look at how our industry sells a donut, a piece of crispy fried chicken, a soft drink, milk tea, or coffee, and I realize we are not just selling food and beverages. We are selling a quick hit of dopamine to minds that are hungry for something they don't want to take the time to dig deep for. I think about entertainment video platforms—an endless cycle of distraction, a safe haven for people to avoid confronting themselves. Marketing, in this case, becomes the operator of the treadmill, ensuring that the addiction to temporary fixes never ends.

Those questions subsided for a while, only to return and torment me on an afternoon in Hanoi in late 2024. By this time, I had the job, I had the money. But I stood in the middle of the capital, feeling more empty than ever. What was I doing? The same restlessness from that night in 2018 came back, bringing with it a more urgent barrage of questions.

I had a profound realization in that moment. Running fast or slow, at a high or low level, having a lot or a little—what difference does it make? In the end, every mouse runs to exhaustion, runs to its death on the very wheel it spent its life climbing. The differences in speed or material possessions are just another illusion within the maze, designed to make some mice feel their race is more meaningful than others'.

Upon realizing the meaninglessness of the material maze, one would typically seek an escape in the opposite direction: the path of spirituality, of minimalism. But then I asked myself: Have the renunciants truly escaped this maze? Or are they just trading one maze for another—a maze of dogmas, of ascetic rules, another sophisticated illusion created by humans, where they trade mental freedom for a pre-defined "peace"? They meditate to control their thoughts, to find a quiet corner to hide in, but what happens after that moment? You have to return to the racetrack with all its noise.

And so, all definitions began to crumble.

What is happiness? What is freedom?

Some say happiness is contentment, wanting what you already have. But another question arose in me: if I desire nothing and have nothing, is that absolute peace or ultimate suffering?

From the monk in the monastery to the CEO at the pinnacle of success, everyone tries to give us a definition of freedom. So what is true freedom? Or is it just another product packaged in different ways, another promise to lure us into a new maze? Are humans ever truly free?

And if absolute freedom doesn't exist, if we are all living within some kind of shell—the shell of materialism, the shell of belief, the shell of culture—then what is the difference between them?

I frantically searched for an escape. And the answer I found was a terrifying silence. Perhaps there is none. Perhaps no one can ever get out. As long as humans live in a body with countless needs, with a brain capable of relentless thought, we will continue to struggle and suffer. Perhaps we only stop running when this body stops, when this mind stops. Death, then, becomes our liberation from this maze. Rich or poor, noble or humble, healthy or sick, every mouse has its allotted time on the wheel.

So if the end point for every mouse is the same, if there is no escape...

Then perhaps, the only thing left that has meaning is how I run.

And that "way of running" is shaped by two questions I must now ask myself every day.

• First: "What am I running for in this maze?". This question is to find a pure 'reason,' a real source of energy to move forward, instead of being pushed by inertia.

• Second, and perhaps more importantly: "At the end of this maze, who do I need to BE?". This question is not about the destination, but about 'Being.' About the person I want to become after all these impacts, regardless of whether the finish line is real or not.

I cannot escape the race. But I can choose to run in a different way.

Perhaps there is no final answer. Perhaps the only true act of freedom isn't to find an exit, but to bravely face the bars of the very cage I am in. To run, but to know that I am running. To suffer, but to know that I am suffering. To consume, but to know that I am consuming.

And in that naked awareness of the endless struggle, perhaps, that is all the freedom and happiness a person can touch, deep within their consciousness.

But in reality, we must always keep running. As for me, the moment I write these lines is a rare moment of lucidity. The rest of the time, I will still have to run, because I am not just this body, this mind—I am also a mother, with another body and mind running alongside mine.

And if I must continue on the path of marketing, perhaps it will require more mindfulness—a "coaching-led" marketing. Like a small torch, not to find an escape route, but to illuminate the very path I'm running on. To remind myself and, perhaps, to suggest to a few other mice running beside me: "Hey, do you see the wheel beneath our feet?"

And would you believe it? As I finish writing this, in this very moment, I feel a glimmer of happiness.

Jasmine Nguyen