Imagine:
Curling up in a corner of the room to avoid a leaking roof.
Shivering in freezing cold because you can’t afford a room heater.
Battling an empty, growling stomach for days in a row because you don’t have a job.
Wouldn’t you want to get out of such a life?
You bet.
That’s what desire is in its simplest form—an unceasing urge not just to survive, but to live.
Here, a question arises: Why do we desire at all?
Simply because without desire, human evolution would be pointless. Why would you try to improve yourself if you didn’t wish to do so? What would be the point of merely existing if there were no desire whatsoever?
It’s so obvious—right in front of our eyes—and yet most of us crave a state of non-desire. In other words, we want to be desire-free.
And why wouldn’t we?
After all, that’s what we’re conditioned to believe.
We’re told that desire brings pain, suffering, and misery, and that life would be better if we had no desires to begin with.
But here’s the thing.
Being desireless is not the same as being desire-free.
The former is a state of despondency and signals inner collapse.
The latter is often romanticized as freedom.
But that “freedom” comes at a price: letting go of the desire to live.
Because to desire is to want to live.
So if you’re alive, breathing, and have no plans of dying anytime soon, what business do you have trying to reach a desireless state?
Or even a desire-free one, for that matter?
Let me ask you something else.
What makes you believe that living without desire would be the golden benchmark of a peaceful, fulfilling life—a life of long, sunny days with nothing to do?
Is It Possible to Live Without Desire?
Let me share an experience from way back in 1997.
At the time, I was experimenting with intense meditation practices.
One evening, after dinner, I lay down—not to sleep, just to rest. Within seconds, something unusual happened. I relaxed completely. It was a kind of relaxation I had never felt before—deep, heavy, almost delicious.
My body felt extremely heavy, as though it were pressing into the bed.
But that wasn’t the unusual part.
What surprised me was this: all my desires for the future vanished. Completely.
No ambitions.
No plans.
No dreams.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something else.
As soon as thoughts of the future disappeared, complaints about the past vanished too. It felt as though the past and the future were simply two ends of the same string.
For three or four minutes, both ceased to exist.
Time stopped.
I was there, in the present moment, lying on the bed like a rock.
Those moments of desirelessness—or perhaps of being “desire-free”—felt like moments of death.
There were no thoughts.
No mind.
No movement.
Everything stood still.
It was deeply relaxing and deeply uncomfortable at the same time.
That day, I understood what a desireless state actually feels like.
People who casually say that one should live without desire have no idea what such a state is really like. Otherwise, they wouldn’t make such careless claims.
Those few minutes felt nothing short of being dead.
And yet, I understand why people crave a desire-free life.
Often, it comes from failure—from not being able to achieve what one set out to achieve.
When people fail to fulfill their aims, it feels safer to conclude that it’s better to live without desire than to desire something and face disappointment.
And that’s not all.
People read about it.
They hear others talk about it—often people who haven’t experienced it themselves.
Spiritual gurus boast about being “desire-free.”
Slowly, the idea spreads. Society starts fantasizing about desirelessness as the ultimate state of being.
Now imagine this.
One day, you wake up and notice there’s no desire left within you.
How long do you think you’d last in such a “freeing” state?
What would motivate you to get out of bed?
Why would you go to work?
Why would you even want to exist?
If there’s no desire, what would you do—and why?
Desire and Human Evolution
My understanding is simple: desire lies at the foundation of human evolution.
We are where we are because wanting improvement is hard-wired into us. It’s a survival mechanism.
Think of The Last Leaf by O. Henry.
Johnsy believes that when the last leaf falls, she will die.
One could argue that a falling leaf has nothing to do with death—but that misses the point.
That leaf represents Johnsy’s will to live.
The will to live, however, is not the same as the desire to live.
Will is what keeps you going despite difficult circumstances.
Desire is the quiet longing to live.
Will can be cultivated.
Desire arises on its own—from somewhere deep, unknown, and mysterious.
Life wouldn’t be possible without this innate urge to desire.
It doesn’t even matter what you desire.
The fact that you desire at all is enough to keep you moving.
That’s why the desireless state we glorify is not something to be attained.
Desire is life.
Desirelessness is death—at least figuratively.
I know this because I’ve experienced it.
Desire Doesn’t Create Misery
The common argument is that desire leads to suffering.
I don’t agree.
Suffering doesn’t come from desire; it comes from a lack of clarity about what we truly want.
Vagueness creates misery.
Confusion creates anxiety.
I’m convinced enough of this to say that addictions—to alcohol, drugs, or porn—often stem from this inner unclarity, from not knowing what one truly wants.
Directionlessness eats people from the inside.
And nobody likes being anxious.
That’s why scrolling, gaming, drinking, and other numbing behaviors are everywhere—they offer temporary relief from inner turmoil.
Don’t chase a desireless life.
It’s a utopian idea—and not even practical unless you’ve chosen a very specific spiritual path.
Instead, try clarifying your desires.
Most of us have only a vague sense of what we want.
Social media, peers, newspapers, motivational speakers—everyone has an opinion about what we should want.
But your life is yours.
No one else can decide for you.
Fulfillment comes only when you live by your own standards.
Clarify What You Truly Desire
Here’s a simple process.
Find a quiet place.
Keep your phone away.
Give yourself 15–20 minutes.
Take a notebook and write down what you think you desire—without judging it.
Once you’re done, read it slowly.
Then close your eyes and ask yourself:
What do I really want?
What do I truly crave?
Wait.
You may not get an answer immediately.
Repeat this process over a few days.
Gradually, the fog begins to clear.
Once clarity emerges, ask the next question:
How might I go about honoring this desire?
Write down whatever comes.
Your mind is a powerful tool—perhaps the greatest one we have.
But it works best when we’re honest.
Acknowledge your desires.
Bring them into the open.
Let them breathe.
It’s clarity you’re really seeking—not desirelessness.
And remember:
The desire to live without desire is also a desire.
Think about it.