Wanting and Desire

One of the most difficult concepts in Eastern religious philosophy for Westerners to grasp, I think, is that of desire.  I’m writing this post because good lord, I think I’ve somewhat grokked it.  It hit me like a fish thrown by an angry sidewalk vendor earlier this week — so tell me what you think:

Desire or “wanting” is a state of mind, a set of thoughts that elevates some thing or circumstance that you do not have above the things and circumstances you do have.  To want something is not the same as  accepting it if it comes along:  Wanting, desiring, is an active striving, even if the striving remains only mental.  (Fear, which I’ll talk about more later, is basically the same thing as desire; only formulated negatively.  It’s wanting-not, which is still a kind of wanting, if that makes sense.)

In the modern world, desire — wanting things — is actively encouraged as part of membership in society. The degree to which different desires are encouraged differs:  In my world, for example, you will be thought weird if you don’t want new clothes or a better computer or a movie or a vacation; but if you don’t want a raise or a nice car, a romantic relationship or to be better-looking, you’re going to get much harsher criticism. You may be called lazy, shiftless, or worthless, even if you work hard and take care of yourself.  Maintaining a set of desires is considered part of the work of being a citizen of our society.  (This isn’t unique to my community or nation, either; it’s been true in many places for a long time.)

It’s normal to desire things, unless you actively try not to.  It’s human nature for the mind to compare now to a better possible future, and then to want that future. But when you’re actively encouraged to desire and to chase your desires, the number and scope of things you want can grow quickly.

Take a second to think about it:  What do you want?

A successful career in [some field]?  For you or your kids to be [some certain kind of successful]?  A certain degree of financial success, or a certain set of objects?

To attain a certain type or degree of happiness?  To live in a certain kind of world?

To be enlightened?

The Zen take on desire stems from a close look at what desire does to you psychologically.  Consider these facts:

• Wanting something entails comparing it to what you have, and judging what you have to be less desirable or “worse”.  Thus, the act of wanting something, even though it may feel positive, is inherently a negative judgment on what you have.
• Therefore, wanting breeds dissatisfaction. Even if you actually like your job/car/whatever just fine, by the act of desiring a better one, you teach yourself to dislike the one you have, because it’s not “good enough”.  To see this in action, watch a child playing with a favorite toy, and then see how the child looks at it after sHe’s been shown a “better” one sHe can’t have.
• The feeling of dissatisfaction with what you have hurts. It makes you think poorly of yourself, and it creates a stressful “split” between what is real, and what you wish was real.
• Wanting focuses your thoughts on the future:  In the future, you may have this thing you want; or you may not (or this thing you fear may happen, or it may not).  Either way, it’s the future that’s relevant, when you’re wanting.  The present takes a back seat.
• Desire is the antithesis of appreciation.  Appreciation is the point of worship.  If you believe that any deity or force created or is creating this world, then it follows that you should be grateful to that force or deity for doing so (since if it hadn’t, you wouldn’t be alive).  But desiring something else is the very opposite of being grateful for what you’ve been given.
• Desire is arrogant. It presumes that you “know what’s best” for yourself and the world around you — that you are somehow qualified to say that your world, your life, would be better if you had [a million dollars / a new career / whatever].  Again, if you believe in any sort of higher power, sentient or otherwise — even if it’s just the organization of the Universe according to scientific Laws — then this arrogance is grossly misplaced.  The organizing power knows better than you; by definition, it must.  Rationally, the proper response is humility and gratitude, which is antithetical to wanting.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about the Zen path in my time studying it, it’s this:  Zen is blisteringly practical. Zen’s arguments against indulging in desire have a distinctly this-makes-sense-and-is-best-for-you focus.  Unlike some forms of Buddhism as well as Christianity and many other religions, the force of the reason to act the ways Zen prescribes is wholly dependent on your agency as a rational, decision-making human being that wants to be happy.  There’s not much in the way of appeals to fear…or to desire.  (No heaven, no hell, to put it simply.)

When it comes to desire, the verdict is simple and crushing:  It’s the cause of all suffering.  Don’t do it.

No, seriously.  Don’t.  Don’t fear, either, because fear is just the other side of the coin — you’re still focused on the future and creating a split between what you want and what you don’t.

How do you “not want” and “not fear”?  Again, it’s pretty simple (in theory; in practice it, well, takes practice).  Keep your mind on the now, unless there’s a practical reason to consider the past or future.  Be happy with what you have, and grateful for it.  Even as you gain, remember that you must someday lose.

When something good comes your way, accept it freely, without strings attached.  When something good leaves you, or something not-so-good comes your way, remember that the Universe knows what it’s doing.

This isn’t intended to be the utterly-passive do-nothingness that some Buddhists (especially modern ones) mistake it for. There’s nothing wrong with reaching for what’s put in front of you, or choosing to turn left intstead of right.  If you have a job, you should try your best to do it well; and if you have a goal, you should work your hardest to meet it.  I liken the Zen position on these things to the good ol’ Serenity Prayer they used to make the kids say in juvie:  Give me the courage to accept the things I cannot change / the strength to change the ones I can / and the wisdom to know the difference. Zen makes it even simpler by specifying what you can and can’t change:  You can affect things now.  You can’t change the past or the future.  Wisdom is not letting yourself get distracted by desires, fears, and other things that prevent you from paying attention (attention is key) to what you can do something about, which is right now.

…

I said up top that all this hit me like a flying tuna, and so it wouldn’t be fair if I just laid it out and didn’t say how exactly it came to me — because things like this never occur to you (or me, anyway) as essays; they come in flashes, in ten-words-or-less that smack you like a thrown brick, and then later you put them in words that others can (hopefully) understand.

Lately I’ve had a lot of mental anguish about my job, and my future career, such as I may be said to have one.  I love to write, and I have the personality of an eccentric artist-type, so I worry that I won’t be happy working a job-job for the rest of my life…but I also have a family to feed, and I married someone even artistier than me.  And I don’t even know if I make good enough art to live on it, or even if I’d want to live on it if I could.  So standard angst and worry, probably, but it was driving me crazy.  Then, in the midst of flipping open all my Books of Power (books that often provide good wisdom if flipped open), I saw this:

If you want the help of a Higher Power, put the proper sacrifice in your caldron.

And lo, it hit me:  The caldron is the mind.  The mind, our thoughts, are where our conscious intention intersects with the Spirit (or whatever).  All my fears about being icky poor and/or being old and feeling like I missed my chance, and my flailing desires for Magick Income and/or a Sign From God about what I should be doing with myself…they all make shitty sacrifices.

If I want a sign from the gods, or a clear path from the Universe, or any kind of peace at all, then there needs to be better stuff in the ol’ caldron (I love calling my brain a caldron!) than that.  There needs to be attention to now, and gratitude for what I’ve got, and acceptance of what is.  (It’s important not to get confused, though:  What you’re sacrificing, as in “giving up”, are the fears and desires and mental movies about the future.  You’re giving those up in order to put better things on the altar you have in your head.)

I think I believe it:  Desire, and it’s Gemini cousin fear — wanting and not-wanting — really are the cause of all suffering.  Because every time I let them go, even in the middle of a hard day or a crappy situation, and replace them with “good sacrifices”, I feel instant peace and happiness.  I feel confident that no matter what happens, things will turn out as they should, in the long run.

It’s been less than a week since this all hit me, but I’ve spent a lot of that time smiling randomly, breathing the air, and feeling completely okay about doing my job and writing my stories and being okay with what I’ve got for now.

I think the practical side of Zen philosophy would call that a victory.

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