Ep 8. The King and the Cobblestones The Delusional Podcast with Kevin Blake Ferguson

A man in a kingdom walked to work every day. And every day he would admire the beauty around him. The flowers in the windows, the perfectly laid cobblestones on the street, and the handsome smiling people around him. On his walk he would look up at the castle. He couldn't help but admire it, too. And on the rare occasion when he saw the King himself in his gilded carriage pass in the streets on his monthly tour of the lower quarter, he couldn't help but admire his carriage, and his attendants. And what was he eating in there? The smell of delicious sweets was detectable even from where he stood. If only he could have a taste of those riches, what life would be!
And so went the thoughts of the man as he went about his daily work and back to his home in the evening. And eventually he did become richer. He worked hard every day, and he was able to replace his grey tunic with a new one with bright colors. Soon he got tired of the color or cut, so bought another, and another. He didn't need a castle, but a house in the upper ring would be nice, even though it was a bit further from his friends and his favorite tavern. All the amenities he supposed were needed, so he bought tables and chairs and beds and dressers and wardrobes and carpets and wall hangings. He had what he wanted, and could finally relax.
But as he lay in bed at night, with his eyes closed, he imagined the King, smoking a pipe and eating sweets as he sat in his gilded carriage. The man didn't need a gilded carriage, but he got a wooden one. He didn't need a private chef and a legion of servers, but it would be nice to not have to cook, so he got promoted, and began paying carriages and carts and men to bring him his food every evening, cooked from the finest chefs in the finest reviewed kitchens in the city. He wanted to live long and be healthy and attractive, so even though it was extremely expensive, he mostly ate kale salads & lamb. He had what he wanted, and could finally relax.
But soon he felt a now familiar itch. He became tired of his wall hangings and furniture, and somehow his house had gotten smaller, having become filled with all the things he had purchased, and so he purchased a new one with a few more rooms. He didn't need an army of servants, but it would be nice, simpler even, if the finer things were taken care of. And so he hired a chef, and cleaners and maids. He no longer had to do anything at home, for the cook prepared all his meals and the servants had dusted the furniture and made his bed as he left for work.
His new position was in a fine building nearer the castle, and on his ride, he rarely looked out to see the smiling people or the flowers in the windows. Instead, his eyes were glued to sheets of paper, and instead of appreciating their lay, he was annoyed at the cobblestones—they were so loud against the hoofs of his horse and the wheels of his carriage, and even though he was sat on two cushions, he was still jostled this way and that. One day a jostle seemed to be due to more than the drop of wooden wheel on uneven cobble, and so the man looked out the window, and saw that they had stopped. The King's carriage was passing. So he looked out his window and into the King's, and noticed that the King's tunic was no finer than his. It was the same cut even. He couldn't smell the King's sweets and pastries over the scent his, so much closer at hand. And up close he realized that the gild was really just paint on wood. Right as the carriage passed, the King met his eyes, but just for a moment, before returning to their previous position, glued as they were to the sheets of paper he was shuffling, as he jostled up and down, up and down.
The feeling that we are running toward happiness when we chase material rewards past a certain point, is a delusion that we are all familiar with. There is a term for it: the hedonic treadmill. Coined in 1971 by psychologists Philip Brickman and Donald T. Campbell, the term refers to the homeostatic te