The Endless Pursuit of "The Next New Thing"

Lately, I can't help but notice how much we have become wired to chasing what's new. The next new gadget, the next job, the next relationship, the next idea. It's like we are caught up in an endless pursuit of the next new thing. We are running, chasing, we keep replacing without ever stopping to ask "WHY"!

The new shiny iPhone 17 drops, and suddenly, the perfectly fine one-year-old phone feels old & outdated. We rush to upgrade, not because the old one stopped working, but because the "new" now exists. It's the same with bikes, cars, laptops, clothes, shoes, you name it.

Even in relationships, the pattern repeats. We hit rough patch, a small fight or a little discomfort, A small fight, a little discomfort, and our minds start whispering: maybe there's someone better out there. Even at work, a new company raises a round or offers slightly more money, we're quick to pack up and leave. Side projects, hobbies, passions, we abandon them the second a shinier idea crosses our mind.

On the surface, it feels like progress. Like evolution. But if we're being honest, most of the time it's not about growth. It's about thrill. Excitement. The dopamine of the "new."

We've gotten used to instant gratification. And a lot of this traces back to how we consume content on social medias. Scroll through reels for ten minutes and you'll see it in action. Each swipe pulls you into a new world, each clip is a mini dopamine hit, each one delivers that tiny spark of "new." No wonder our brains are now craving the same thing from life itself. Why sit with what we already have, all its imperfections, its flaws, when there's always something fresh and exciting right around the corner?

But here's the irony: no matter how good the "new" is, it can not replace the weight of what we already have, the moments we've lived, the memories we've built, the roots we've planted. That bike that was with you on the roughest days, that job where that taught you so many things, that relationship full of shared stories, their value doesn't vanish just because something shinier appears.

So, why are we caught in this endless loop? What are we really searching for?

Maybe the deeper question isn't about chasing the new at all. Maybe it's about our discomfort with the ordinary. Maybe we've become so hooked on novelty that we are slowly forgetting how to sit with "enough." We confuse better with different. We confuse progress with escape.

Sometimes I think what would happen if we paused? If we resisted the pull of "next" and instead look at what we already have, not with boredom, but with gratitude? Would we still feel stuck, or would we realize that meaning often hides in the familiar, not the new?

I don't have the answers. Honestly, I'm tangled in these doubts myself. But I have started asking these questions, and sitting with them, is the first step.