At the onset of the pandemic, we were forced to reprioritize. The world slowed and we sat with ourselves, contemplating our lives. Maybe we tried journaling, breathwork, maybe we baked bread, but we all spent more time online- whether you downloaded, deleted, and redownloaded TikTok (x3), or Zoomed from meetings into lackluster happy hours. As we continue to connect mostly through the internet and normalize the exorbitant amount of time spent on screens, this virtual connection continues to wrap us in what can feel like an unending daily chase. A new version of a rat race that happens at home in your sweats with your head dipped deep into an aquarium of internet things.
It’s natural for humans to desire, to want, to imagine. It is our species’ magic, fundamental to how we co-create our day to day lives to innovating policy, products, and systems. The etymology of desire is traced to the Latin word, desiderare, meaning “from the stars.” Its meaning is influenced by ancient astrology; The Romans believed what happened on earth was influenced by the stars, and wished for what the stars might bring.
We cannot take away our mind’s ability to aspire or our physiological need to compare, it’s what kept our species alive and propelled us forward.
However, we do walk a tightrope. Too much desire leads to a life that focuses solely on the future, craving that can lead to disappointment, bitterness, worry, and confusion. Becoming obsessed with the pursuit, to seek constantly what is unattainable in the present, leaves us powerless.
I watched this play out recently in the new Pixar movie Soul, where Joe Gardner, the jazz teacher, constantly dreams of performing instead of seeing the impact he has on his students as a teacher, and when he fulfills his chase, playing at a jazz club, he’s met with unexpected flatness, “I thought it’d feel differently.”
Religion and philosophy have contemplated desire for centuries, a leading concept in their teachings. In Buddhism to ultimately end suffering (Dukkha), one must release and let go of craving (Tanha) through a path of virtue, meditation, and insight which is referred to as Magga (the Noble Eightfold Path). One of Marcus Aurelius's four habits in Stoicism is to limit our desires and aversions to things we can control, in order to strengthen our individual power.
Our virtual connectedness inflates the perception of everything we need, shining a light on everything we don’t have. In a world where everything feels possible, we conversely experience deep dissatisfaction, lack, and hopelessness. We mirror each other’s desires, fill up with what we see versus sitting with ourselves to understand our own needs, and wonder why we feel empty. Mindfulness and meditation help us control our perceptions, including what we may think we need or want, but our intrinsic link to technology continues to weave tighter and provides us a world of incessant stimulation, possibility, and accessibility.
To desire, to long, is creative and romantic energy, that we find through sensual experiences, art, and innovation. It is unrealistic and detrimental to stifle it. We can use philosophy and religious teachings like Stoicism and Buddhism to pull our power within, to funnel desire productively. To hold the feeling, without acting immediately, letting it wash over us, or channel it into a creative pursuit. Desire is meant to be felt yet not always acted on.
Discernment is the key to wielding desire. It is found in the daily minutes we find for ourselves, to hear our inner voice, emptying the stimulation we receive from hours online, to give rise to clarity, and fill ourselves with what truly satiates us.
As we become clear and aligned within, our lives simplify, removing external pieces that don’t fulfill us. Our lives gain richness, as this creates new space to bring in what we truly need.
