If I was sitting in my favorite cushioned rocker from Crate and Barrel circa 1995 with a great book, an ice cold Kombucha, a bag of peanuts and Silas—why would I ever move? I’d have to want something else. Like the toilet or my Blackberry.
Think about it.
I’ve been told that wanting is good. That it actually keeps us alive—because we chase our desires, because the wanting keeps us moving actionably forward towards the getting. It follows, then, that without the wanting, you would hit stasis. Forever. Because there would be nothing to move you out of your current spot.
We would die of starvation if we didn’t get hungry and want food. We would die of dehydration if we didn’t get thirsty and want water. We would die as a species if we didn’t get all kinds of turned on and want sex.
It makes sense. I get it.
But what happens when there’s something you want that you can’t have no matter what? (Or at least the probability is so low, even ants stand too high to see it.) Does that kind of wanting move you forward? Or does it just offer up a different kind of equilibrium—more akin to inactivity or, more aptly, wheel spinning.
And if the way out is still ‘wanting’? Do we just need to want something else?
Have you ever wanted to eat a piece of chocolate cake, but didn’t let yourself have it because you weren’t eating crap that week. So instead, you ate everything else in your kitchen. It doesn’t work to just want something else. ‘Something else’ never fills the hole, never satisfies. No matter how many eggs, carrots, potato chips and pickles you eat and no matter how full you get, you still want the cake.
So, I don’t know about that option. I suppose that would keep us from stasis (or dying). But not from getting fat or fulfilled.
What to do if you can’t have your want, and you can’t eat it too?
Image credit: Chatirygirl