Desire

I really admire Buddhism for its simplistic and unapologetic approach. It’s chock-full of brutal psychological truth bombs. 

In a nutshell, Buddhism says that suffering is a natural part of life, and that we essentially create our own suffering by getting too attached to people, places, situations, and things. We can dramatically reduce our suffering by taking responsibility for our actions and work to attain a neutral, open minded attitude towards our lives. Buddhism even  gives us a step-by-step instruction booklet called the eight fold path, which gives us specific ways and tools we can use to reduce our suffering. Brilliant.

Most people stiffen up at the idea that their suffering is a choice they make. It’s much easier to pretend life happens to us rather than accepting that we shape our lives with our actions and choices.

So if suffering is due to attachment, how do we begin to address it? What exactly does attachment refer to, in this context?

In one word: desire.

Ah, there’s nothing that traps the mind like desire. 

Desire to be richer…fitter…more successful. Desire to live in our dream home, to date a certain person, to belong to a certain social circle. 

Craving. 

Wanting. 

Wishing.

We’ve all been there. Most of us have taken up permanent residence there and settled in quite nicely. A little uncomfortable, but hey, it’s worth it.  

But is it? 

Desire is a tricky state; always starting in the present and skipping forward into the future without you noticing. Pulling you out of the present moment, into a wishful state that is not rooted in reality.

Similar to Buddhist philosophy, Vedanta also lectures on the pitfalls of desire. A stoic Swami once told us that desire is the root of all evil, because it highjacks the mind. 

The Swami had a way of lightening up lectures through humour, like the time he urged us to pack our sweaters and sleeping bags for that chilly afternoons’ shavasana. He had a slideshow for this particular lecture on desire. I paused for a moment to wonder how a devout man of faith would come to own and operate a MacBook Pro with the efficiency he possessed…and then I reminded myself that he was, in fact, just a human like the rest of us. A human who was likely a fellow slave to Apple storage, who like us, had no idea what he was even paying to store. 

The first slide was a picture of a rich, moist chocolate cake. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t salivating as I gazed upon it. Especially after a week of lettuce and lentils. 

Desire.

I desired that cake so much my body physically responded. My mind responded. My freaking soul responded.

The Swami let us suffer and salivate for a while before reminding us that we seek to fulfil desire in order to pause our suffering, for that one brief moment where our expectation meets our reality. That first bite. That mental orgasm, where time and space cease to exist, and all suffering is alleviated.

Then reality sets in, and we realize we’ve eaten half the cake and we will have to prolong our stay at the ashram another 2 weeks to work off the caloric repercussions.

But that sweet, brief moment in time where our desire is met: oof. So good. 

Because we experience stillness.  

The desire is quenched and for a fleeting moment, our mind is at peace. Then the mind resets to a new desire, and the cycle of suffering continues. 

We do this all our lives. We pine after everything from our dream job to our dream wedding to our dream family. We work for it. We SUFFER for it, happily. We believe we can’t go on unless we have certain relationships or situations in our lives. 

We are subconsciously programmed to believe we must suffer to earn what we desire. Why do we do this? Because we believe happiness and contentment will be ours after we achieve our desires. We pass months and years building expectations of that moment the stars will finally align and life will be good. 

But it’s a trap. We forfeit our present joy when we get lost in the desire of longing for a specific future.

And the irony is that we miss the entire point because we are too busy caught suffering in a suspended wishful state of desire. In the end, we are left depleted, resentful, and bewildered. Then we wistfully wonder how ‘life has passed us by’ when the truth is, we were so distracted by our desires that we didn’t really experience or appreciate anything fully.

Once we realize we’re hooked on desire, it gets easier to spot. Then it gets easier to unhook from it. Slowly, slowly, it leads to a life with less stress, more humour, and less suffering, despite external life circumstances.

For efficiency (inspired by my techy Swami), I’ve listed a few points on how to ease suffering. The Coles notes to detaching, if you will:

  1. Expectations breed disappointment. 
  2. Focusing on what you don’t have rather than what you have brings more of the same and vice versa.
  3. No person or situation is worth your joy. Ever.
  4. Joy is a natural by product of non attachment.
  5. Letting go and surrendering to difficult situations rather than clinging or resisting is the trick door out of the suffering.
  6. If you find yourself miserable for any reason, lose yourself in service to others to regain your balance.
  7. Devotion will open your heart and restore peace.

There is a profound difference in ‘understanding’ your way through life from the level of the mind vs experiencing your way through it with an open heart.

Most importantly: a controlled amount of detachment to life’s experience is healthy. This does not mean you are numb, or aloof. In fact, you can be detached from the outcome of any particular situation, while being completely engaged and attentive to it. The difference is in the surrender. You don’t try to control or manipulate the situation. Instead, you allow it to unfold. You are engaged without being attached. You are curious.

And you take delight in all the unexpected twists and turns life takes you down. We are characters in our own motion film, and we have no idea what plot twists will find us.

Buddhist philosophy helps to remind us that while we can’t always control the ride, we can always control our response to it.

Amanda

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