Blue Mountain Articles

Will & Desire

Desire is the key to life, because desire is power. The deeper the desire, the more power it contains. The Upanishads say:

You are what your deep, driving desire is.
As your deep, driving desire is, so is your will.
As your will is, so is your deed.
As your deed is, so is your destiny.

Desire can be thought of as a river. For the person with many small desires, the water trickles in many different directions. There is not much power in a trickle, and little desires often fail to reach their goal. But then, just because they are little, it does not matter much if many of them get nowhere. What matters is the sense of futility that builds up in a person whose desires are many and trivial. Like rain that falls on a mountain peak, running down the slopes on every side, vitality is dispersed; life itself is fragmented.

On the other hand, there are people whose lives are molded by one all-consuming desire, as overwhelming as a mighty river. If you have seen a great river like the Ganges or the Mississippi in flood, you know what power it can have; anything in its path is swept away. Similarly, the man or woman who has unified desires sweeps all obstacles aside.

Wherever you find great success in life, it is due to the intense unification of desires. Some years ago I read an interview with Margot Fonteyn, one of the greatest ballerinas in the world. When the interviewer commented on her effortless grace, she replied in effect, “It is effortless now. Behind the grace and spontaneity you see on the stage, there is the cruelty of the bullring.” Years and years of grueling practice, day in and day out. I don’t know if you have seen a ballet teacher in action; what I have seen reminded me of a galley slave master, standing in front of these earnest, dedicated children lined up at the practice bar and saying all day, “All right, now, kick! One, two, three, four . . .”

Some of the best ballet schools, I understand, are as rigorous as boot camp. There are no vacations; you can’t afford the lapses. No ice cream after school; you can’t afford the extra pounds. And none of the other little pleasures that teenagers take for granted. Everything is ballet, ballet, ballet. That gives an idea of how deep young Margot Fonteyn’s desire for excellence must have gone. It is not that she didn’t miss having friends and vacations and ice cream; I am sure she did. But much more, she wanted to become a great ballerina. “You are what your deep, driving desire is.” It shapes your will; it shapes your destiny.

Forces that mold our lives

It is not always obvious, but we get in life what we deeply desire from it. If our lives are completed with some desires still unfulfilled, it is usually because we have cherished more desires than one lifetime could bring to fruition. Hindu and Buddhist mystics would go so far as to say that we have come into this life expressly to fulfill our unfulfilled desires, which, as unconscious drives, shape everything we do. Childhood interests, likes and dislikes in school, choice of work, the person we marry, the way we raise our children – all are molded by these deep, driving desires, called samskaras in Sanskrit.

The ancient Greeks had a saying: “When the gods want to punish us, they grant us our desires.” The Buddha would put it differently: we punish ourselves, just as we reward ourselves, with the fruits of our desires. For where our desires are, there is our capacity to live, to love, to enjoy.

The Greeks illustrated this with the story of Midas, whose desire for wealth turns even his daughter into gold. The story may be myth, but it is nonetheless real. A deep money-making samskara conditions even our perception. Show a modern Midas a beautiful landscape, and he will see a shopping center – and given the opportunity, he will turn it into a shopping center too. Just as in that experiment with hypnosis, where the idea of a burn creates a real blister on the skin, the shopping center is already there in Midas’s mind, waiting to be turned into reality. He may achieve his desire and amass a fortune, but the same force that fulfills his desire also brings all the fruits of selfish craving: loneliness, alienation, broken relationships, the inability to love. It is of utmost importance, therefore, that we have some control over what we desire, and the key to doing that is will.

“Will Quotient”

The power in desire is the power of the will. Every desire carries with it the will to bring that desire to fruition. “Strength,” Mahatma Gandhi said, “does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” If the will is strong enough, anything can be accomplished; if the will is weak, very little can be achieved. In my opinion, what counts most in life is not IQ but WQ – “Will Quotient.” In every endeavor, it is the man or woman with an unbreakable will who excels.

Look at students, for example. I have been a teacher for many years, and I can testify that the difference between an outstanding student and an average one is often not a matter of intelligence but the fact that the former has the capacity of will to come through in an hour of crisis. Even good students, for example, may put things off until the last minute, having a grand old time. But when the clock tolls the eleventh hour, they are able to drop everything else and work far into the night, drinking cup after cup of coffee and finally turning in a good job. Because their job depends on it, or their scholarship, or their romance, instead of breaking down under the strain, they are able to fuse all their faculties through an act of will. When I had a student like this, I used to say, “If only you could make this kind of concentrated effort part of your daily life, you would be a genius.”

Most students I know, however, are not like this. They, too, postpone until the eleventh hour, with the same intention to make a big push at the end. “Why waste a good Saturday evening? Let’s go down to the Café Mediterraneum and spend the night there. In the morning we can get up early, clear the desk, and hit the books for all we’re worth.” But while these fine words are being said, the will is sitting back in his corner and saying, “Not me! You can count me out.” And sure enough, when morning comes, such people cannot get the covers off. They look at the pile of papers on their desk and do not know where to begin. After a while, they grow dispirited. “What’s the use? Maybe a little coffee will help me think better.” And down they go to the Mediterraneum again. After that it is going to be even more difficult to get to work. When we procrastinate, we are using our will for a dart board: every time something is postponed, it stabs a hole in the will.

Many, many failures in daily life are no more than failures of the will. Whenever we become irritated, speak harshly, belittle, or vacillate, the will is lying down. The implication is surprising: even to be kind, we need a strong will. We do not necessarily mean to hurt people; we simply can-not control what we say and do.

In daily living, a strong will often shows as a particular inner toughness, the endurance to put up with difficulties without breaking or giving up. Without this, we are at life’s mercy. I have seen even great tycoons, men used to facing the bulls and bears of Wall Street with a will of iron, suddenly throw a tantrum because a line of traffic was moving too slowly. Where is that iron will then? It is almost as if they open their briefcases, take out a portable crib, climb in, and start to howl.

Here we can draw a surprising conclusion: a rigid personality is not strong; it is weak, because the will is fragile. In one compartment of life, where desires run deep, the will can operate; elsewhere it is paralyzed. On the other hand, those whose will is uniformly strong can always adapt; they can function beautifully no matter what life deals out. Such people are free. They enjoy life, ups and downs.

The great race

We can think of Will and Desire as competitors in a really long marathon – one that goes on for years. All the bets are on Desire. He has been training for many years, so he is in the best of shape. He crouches at the starting line like a leopard – lean, lithe, and powerful, bursting with the desire to win. But for most of us, the will is still in bed. I say “most of us” without any deprecation, for this is the conditioning the world shares today: the attitude that pleasure is everything, and the absence of pleasure the worst of fates.

Once we start questioning this attitude, a new desire comes: the desire to master our desires. That is the signal that the race is about to begin. But first we have to wake the will. “Willie! Willie! Your presence is expected at a particular event. Don’t you hear the crowd roaring?”

“Go away,” Will says. He is as grumpy as a hibernating bear. After all, it is we who lulled him to sleep; is it fair to roust him out of bed again after all these years?

Finally we have to shake the will a little. Probably he will try to hit us. At that point, there are people who say, “Who wants to be hit? Why not let sleeping wills lie?” But the person with determination, who is tired of losing in life, goes to the kitchen, gets a pitcher of cold water, and pours it on Willie’s head.

Will gets up fast, shaking off the cobwebs. “How about a drink?” We give him some black coffee. As he wakes up, he starts to complain: “I haven’t run in years; I’m a marshmallow! Besides, I don’t have any running shoes; I don’t have any shorts. You wouldn’t want me to run in my pajamas, would you?” We have to humor him: get the right apparel, tie his shoes for him, practically carry him to the race. Even then all the spectators look at poor Will and laugh. “He shouldn’t even be here!” And in fact, he scarcely is – yet.

Will slouches at the starting line, all out of shape, while leopard Desire crouches eagerly. Many races have one or two false starts, where everyone has to come back and start again. Here the will is allowed a number of false reverses. “This is too much for me. I’m not meant for competition. You fellows go ahead and race each other; I’m going back to bed.” He may even try to tiptoe off the track, and we have to keep bringing him back. The will needs constant encouragement, especially at the outset. We have to console him for being so out of condition, reassure him not to be self-conscious about the bulge around his waist, tell him the story of the tortoise and the hare – whatever it takes to keep him in the race.

Off goes the gun; Desire springs from the starting blocks. But Will is all engrossed in his feet. “Look, I’ve got my shoes on the wrong feet! How did that happen?” He bends over to untie them, and our hearts sink. “Willie, the race has started! Your competitor is already half a mile down the track.”

Will lumbers to his feet to the jeers of the crowd. “Hey, Willie, don’t go too fast!” “You shouldn’t be on a track; you should have stayed in bed!” The voices are our own. There is a certain amount of self-deprecation when we try to master strong desires, but on no account do we need to take this kind of jeering seriously. Even if he appears weak, we should put our money on the will. The miracle is that even the Most Flaccid Will in the Guinness Book of World Records can be made immeasurably strong. Just as there are exercises for strengthening different parts of the body, there is a powerful exercise for strengthening the will – resisting any conditioned, self-centered desire. It may be for some sensory pleasure, or it may be more subtle: the demand to have our own way, to have others conform to our expectations. Whatever it is, if we yield to that desire, the will is weakened; if we resist, the will is strengthened.

This kind of training has to be practiced with artistry and a sense of proportion. I do not belong to the school of thought that maintains, “If it’s unpleasant, it must be good for you.” Not at all. I would not, for example, suggest you deprive yourself of a glass of fresh orange juice in the morning just because you desire it. There are plenty of positive opportunities for strengthening the will, by resisting urges that benefit nobody.

You can start first thing in the morning, when it is unutterably pleasant to huddle under warm blankets and doze. Do not stop to think; just throw off the blankets and jump out of bed for meditation. That wakes the will up fast. Isn’t there a saying, “He who hesitates is lost”? I would not go to that extent; but hesitation, like procrastination, saps the will. Jesus often says, “Forthwith”: do it now.

The more we look, the more opportunities we will find, many of them quite unsuspected. Being kind, staying patient, not making a clever remark at someone else’s expense – all these strengthen the will. Go to work a little early, and leave your work in the office when you come home; it will strengthen the will. And if you can give your best to people around you and try to work out differences harmoniously, you are not only making the will stronger, you have him out on the track jogging.

In all fairness, I must say that the will is a plucky fellow at heart. After just a little training, he is ready to compete, even if Desire has run so far ahead that he thinks he is un-challenged. And once he starts training, be it ever so slowly, the will gains ground every day. Finally Desire looks casually over his shoulder and rubs his eyes in disbelief. There is Will, rounding a far corner. He is not puffing along any more; he is lean, fit, beginning to feel his stride. Soon Desire can hear his footsteps, almost feel him breathing down his neck. At this point, I must warn frankly, Desire may start running for all he is worth.

But finally comes one of the most thrilling moments in spiritual development. This first-rate professional, Desire, suddenly finds himself running neck and neck with the amateur Will. For a while, in fact, we never know who is going to win; just a couple of inches can make the difference between victory and defeat. It makes us vigilant every minute, which is a prerequisite of spiritual progress. If we thought the race was in the bag, effort would slacken; growth would cease.

And at last the will gives one great leap forward, pulls into a strong lead, and breasts the tape. After that, your will is unbreakable. What may be called “right desires” – desires that benefit all, including yourself – can be as strong as they like; when the will runs ahead of desires, nothing can become an obsession. If a desire starts to get a little stronger, the will simply lengthens its stride and pulls out in front.

The transformation of desire

No one can plead that he or she lacks will. There is will in every desire. If the desire is self-centered or conditioned, our will is turned against us; we do what it commands. As Spinoza observed, in such a life there are no decisions, only desires. But when the will is in our hands, we control our destiny.

The Bhagavad Gita sums it up concisely: “The will is our only enemy; the will is our only friend.” In Western mysticism, this enemy will is called self-will: the fierce compulsion to please ourselves, get what we want, have our own way, even if it is at the expense of others. This is the immense power behind all selfish desires. In deep meditation, we can see self-will flowing through personality like a powerful river, conditioning most of what we think, say, and do.

In my earlier days, I must confess, I would have agreed with the rest of the world that it is not possible to defy a strong desire without suffering serious consequences. When the river of conditioning came down on me, I, too, believed that I had no choice except to let the current sweep me away. But as my meditation deepened, I began to suspect that there was a choice. Instead of turning my back, I could turn against the current and try to swim upstream.

For a long time I did not succeed; the muscles of my will were not yet strong enough. But I went to work on strengthening my will, by resisting all sorts of little, self-centered desires. And gradually a wonderful thing happened. It was like recalling some old strokes I had once learned but long since forgotten – butterfly, breaststroke, Australian crawl. I said to myself with some amazement, “Hey, I can do this! I’m not being swept back any more.” It gave me a whole new perspective. Instead of producing a sense of deprivation, going against desires became a challenge, a new sport. Just as there are people who like nothing more than to ride a turbulent, treacherous river downstream, I began to find a fierce joy in fighting my way against the stream of my conditioning, like a salmon returning to its source.

This is not repression; it is transformation. When I approved of a desire, I still knew how to swim with the current and enjoy it. But when I disapproved, I had a choice. I no longer lived in the everyday world of stimulus and response; I lived in a world of freedom.

In this sense, we can look on the will as a tremendous transformer. The tributaries of desire and self-will flow in; then out comes power, to be utilized as you choose. If the will is unified from top to bottom, the moment anger rises, you can transform it into compassion. The moment disloyalty arises, you can transform it into love. Every negative samskara can be transformed like this, which means that personality can be remade completely in the image of your highest ideal.

Ruysbroeck, a Flemish mystic of the fourteenth century, wrote, “The measure of your holiness is proportionate to the goodness of your will.” As he told some university students, “You are as holy as you want to be.” And, I would add, as happy as we want to be, as loving, as wise. The choice is wholly ours.