The End of Desire

For the past 3 years, I have been interested in Eastern philosophies. As someone who grew up with mostly Western schools of thought, it's been refreshing to learn and understand how the East thought differently about the most pressing matters. One idea that has stood out amongst many is giving up desire. It is the concept of letting go of our inner desires and being content with what is, without the need to change. I have always loved this idea intellectually, except it never clicked with me, that is, until last week, when one random morning, it all just made sense. I got it.

Giving up Desire

Desire causes conflict because it disconnects me from what is. I am at point A, but I would rather be at point B. I am feeling bad, but I want to feel good. I tell myself I should feel good. The conflict is that I demand what I am not.

I often avoid meeting life in full force, and my trusty tool for that has always been my desire. On the surface, this looks like wanting the best for myself, but a darker truth appears when looked at closely: I don't like who I am right now. I feel I should be like this superior version of myself. And to no one's surprise, I fall short of this version in all measurable aspects. I am not as eloquent as this version is. I am not as witty. I am not as awake, as friendly, and the list can keep going.

I punish myself psychologically when my desire to be more like the "better version of me" is not met. That punishment manifests itself in constant self-criticism and punitive self-talk. This inner conflict is exhausting, and desire is the chief instigator. Desiring an image that's always out of reach, seeking to be anywhere but here, I am blind to the present, from all its beauty and sorrow in the here and now.

The Kingdom of God

I experience an incredible level of calm and peace every time I'm in the here and now. Although these moments last for seconds, they feel like an eternity. My mind is quiet and content with the moment. My sense of self is expansive, not limited to this body. If I were a mystic Christian, I'd call these moments a window into the Kingdom of God, for they are, in a sense, a glimpse of the eternal now.

Unfortunately, this glimpse of the eternal now is not a regular experience. Caught in desire, my mind misses the here and now—all the time. The desire to feel a certain way, to be this and not that. Constantly measuring how I stand against these expectations of myself takes me away from the moment. There's always something to desire, to want, to change into, to be more like, to avoid being like. This constant back and forth is a trap. But once in a while, I escape the trap. I find myself in a moment where the desire for what ought to be is gone, where I am alone with what is. In those moments, my usually seeking mind recognizes and comes to see the here and now.

Here and Now

Here and now is authentic, as real as it can be. If one is anxious, the here and now is full of anxiety. If one is feeling euphoric, the moment itself is euphoric. One doesn't seek to change the moment, to push it off, or to hold on to it. Instead, one sits with it. This detachment allows the moment to open up the space for what is. It allows one to experience the present in its full force.

When I am in the present moment with no desire for change, all I have left is awareness, recognition and acceptance of what is, as it is. I stop fighting, stop the self-tyranny, and let go of the ideal self, the image of "a better me."

Paradoxically, the first desire I drop is the desire to drop desires. And then and there, I am at peace.