Buddha said that the cause of all suffering is desire. But the translators left out this part: Desire for what is, to be something else. The expression, “It is what it is,” applies well to his observation. When we don’t acknowledge, “It is what it is,” we will go through life kicking and screaming because things are not turning out according to our little plans.
If we desire for “it” to be something else just because we don’t like how “it is,” we will be miserable our entire life. Because the world is not going to cooperate with our desires. And anyway, our individual desires are so varied and can change from day to day. We can crave chocolate ice cream and feel upset when all that is available is vanilla. The next day, we really want vanilla but now all we can get is chocolate.
On the other hand, desire can be beneficial and not lead to suffering in the short term. Artists desire to express beauty or innovation. Scientists desire to know how the world works. We desire each other so we can procreate and continue the species or to not feel alone and find connection with each other. Desire, in and of itself, is the source of all inventions, improvements, and innovations. Without it, the dirt road would still be unpaved and rutted. Babies wouldn’t cry when they are hungry they would just lie there passively and waste away.
Where the translation went awry was when people interpreted the life force that represents itself as desire, as something lustful and greedy. This is the desire for more, more, and more that is inherent in the ego mind. The ego mind is never satisfied with the present moment and thinks that somewhere in the future will be salvation, so clawing our way through life to satisfy our physical desires is the way of the world.
Yet, the pure, instincitve desire of a baby to be fed causes it to cry and be in distress until it gets nourishment. This is true for all baby animals and has nothing to do with ego or yearning for everything to be different from what it is. The pure desire of an artist to create something that expresses his or her inner world is also not what Buddha refers to either.
Michael Singer points out in The Untethered Soul, that preference, rather than desire, causes distress. We want someone we think we love to behave in a certain way. We want to live forever and never get sick or die. We never want to feel a moment’s pain or have anything go against our wishes. He uses the example of rain on our birthday—when we planned an outdoors party. The earth is behaving like the earth does. But we are not happy with it. We desire it to be sunny. But the weather system, the tides, and gravity are what they are—not what we desire them to be.
A sunny day, to someone with skin cancer could be threatening. They might think rain on their birthday is a blessing. They prefer clouds. That bright sun is stressful. They fear their condition will be worse because of the radiance of that star. The world should act according to their wishes.
Giving up desire doesn’t mean living like a hermit in a freezing cave. It doesn’t mean never feeling the compulsion to express physical love or to enjoy delicious food. It doesn’t mean living a deprived, limited life and not making any improvements to alleviate pain and suffering. It just means not fighting what is and what cannot changed with every individual whim. But unfortunately, through the centuries, mistaken seekers have emphasized a monastic life as a way of showing renunciation of desire.
If we desire for “it” to be something else just because we don’t like how “it is,” we will be miserable our entire life. Because the world is not going to cooperate with our desires. And anyway, our individual desires are so varied and can change from day to day. We can crave chocolate ice cream and feel upset when all that is available is vanilla. The next day, we really want vanilla but now all we can get is chocolate.
On the other hand, desire can be beneficial and not lead to suffering in the short term. Artists desire to express beauty or innovation. Scientists desire to know how the world works. We desire each other so we can procreate and continue the species or to not feel alone and find connection with each other. Desire, in and of itself, is the source of all inventions, improvements, and innovations. Without it, the dirt road would still be unpaved and rutted. Babies wouldn’t cry when they are hungry they would just lie there passively and waste away.
Where the translation went awry was when people interpreted the life force that represents itself as desire, as something lustful and greedy. This is the desire for more, more, and more that is inherent in the ego mind. The ego mind is never satisfied with the present moment and thinks that somewhere in the future will be salvation, so clawing our way through life to satisfy our physical desires is the way of the world.
Yet, the pure, instincitve desire of a baby to be fed causes it to cry and be in distress until it gets nourishment. This is true for all baby animals and has nothing to do with ego or yearning for everything to be different from what it is. The pure desire of an artist to create something that expresses his or her inner world is also not what Buddha refers to either.
Michael Singer points out in The Untethered Soul, that preference, rather than desire, causes distress. We want someone we think we love to behave in a certain way. We want to live forever and never get sick or die. We never want to feel a moment’s pain or have anything go against our wishes. He uses the example of rain on our birthday—when we planned an outdoors party. The earth is behaving like the earth does. But we are not happy with it. We desire it to be sunny. But the weather system, the tides, and gravity are what they are—not what we desire them to be.
A sunny day, to someone with skin cancer could be threatening. They might think rain on their birthday is a blessing. They prefer clouds. That bright sun is stressful. They fear their condition will be worse because of the radiance of that star. The world should act according to their wishes.
Giving up desire doesn’t mean living like a hermit in a freezing cave. It doesn’t mean never feeling the compulsion to express physical love or to enjoy delicious food. It doesn’t mean living a deprived, limited life and not making any improvements to alleviate pain and suffering. It just means not fighting what is and what cannot changed with every individual whim. But unfortunately, through the centuries, mistaken seekers have emphasized a monastic life as a way of showing renunciation of desire.
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