The Nature of Craving

We’re trapped in a hungry animal. Gasping for air, thirsty all the time, burning fuel like a Colorado wildfire – we have, shall we say, certain needs. And no matter how much air, water and food we devour, our needs go on unabated. There is no end to the hunger.

Life itself is one giant alimentary canal. Life-forms go in one end, poop comes out the other. I didn’t make the rules. This is just the way it is.

To demonize desire, therefore, is to demonize life.

But we also recognize that our desires are not very smart. They don’t have a brain. If left unchecked, they’d kill us. Addiction, obesity, debauchery, all manner of disease-causing overconsumption – desire is a terrible steward of the life-form it inhabits.

Without desire, we’re dead. With desire, our lives are in constant peril. Philosophers have long struggled with this paradox, working hard to draw a line between healthy and unhealthy hunger.  From their work a few simple principles emerge. Since desire itself is neither good nor evil it falls on our skills of discernment to distinguish the good from the bad. Pious platitudes and blanket taboos fail where subtler insights prevail. It’s time for us to grow up and move into a more sophisticated philosophy of desire.

Perhaps a simple test, consisting of a few salient questions, could help us steer a course through the minefield of our endless hunger.

When faced with a craving, ask yourself the following seven questions:

1.      If I do this, will it bring me real joy and deep satisfaction, as opposed to merely short-term pleasure?

2.      Will it expand my ability to be of service to others?

3.      Does it resonate with my higher sensibilities?

4.      Would I consent to public disclosure of this activity, as opposed to secrecy?

5.      Would this activity leave me with a lingering sense of beauty, as opposed to regret, embarrassment or shame?

6.      Is this proposed activity rooted in love of self and others? 

7.      Is this activity rooted in honoring the inherent dignity of all living things?

If you can answer yes to one of these questions then your desire is a healthy one. Do it. And by the way – if you answer yes to one of these questions, you’ve implicitly answered yes to all of them.

If you cannot answer yes to even one of these questions then your desire is an unhealthy one. Don’t do it. It won’t further your own interest or anyone else’s.

Behind this simple strategy is the idea that each of us carries within us an internal moral compass, a deeply ingrained and universal sense of right and wrong. Religious teachings, sacred texts and well-constructed ethical philosophies are nice, but they tend to create as many problems as they solve. The Bible is a good example. It contains some of the most sublime moral teachings ever written alongside some of the worst examples of cruelty, ignorance and bigotry in the history of religion. We must read any sacred text with our hearts awake, our God-given minds engaged and our intuition open to the sublime insights inspired in us by the words of the ancients. Our philosophies and theologies serve us best when they call us to our own wisdom.

Wanting to expand the scope of one’s life through the acquisition of new skills and the mastery of a craft is not wrong. It is not wrong to want to be more, to see more, to know more, to grow more. As long as your longing for expansion aligns with the seven questions, you’re fine. Nothing’s gained by playing it small and hiding your light. If carried out with humility, self-respect, love for others and the consciousness of service, pursuing one’s own greatness brings a much needed blessing to the world. A tree does not apologize for growing. Why should we? We are all blessed by the abundance of a tree’s fragrant fruit and sheltering shade. Having no ego, the tree is never foolish enough to claim credit. It just stands there with nothing to prove, allowing its inherent magnificence to do all the talking. Successful people understand this, and see their prosperity in this same light.

Seeking wealth, fame and power over others to fill an aching wound, on the other hand, is a pathological craving that generates only suffering for oneself and others. It violates one, and therefore all of the seven questions. Without humility and the consciousness of service, our growth, acquisition and expansion take on a cancerous quality that threatens the health of the whole. Seen through the lens of competition, we view the success of others with envy and covetousness. We cannot be happy unless we have more than everyone else. No matter how skillful we become at attracting material wealth, joy eludes us because we see ourselves in conflict with everyone and everything instead of as an integral expression of the universe in harmonious concert with itself.

In this light, drug addiction, alcoholism, overeating, serial shopping, and all other forms of compulsive acquisition are not moral weakness as much as they are cognitive errors – faulty calculations of how best to maximize our long-term self-interest. The active meth addict and the clean and sober meth addict in recovery are both pursuing their self-interest. One is simply objectively better at it than the other. We all naturally lean toward the good. Some of us are just better at figuring out what that actually means.

The great Christian theologian Thomas Aquinas and the pagan Plato agree – there is only one power and presence in the universe and it is the Good. Whether we of our own free will come to understand it and manifest it through our choices and actions is another matter entirely.

This is why it is so important, on both a personal and societal level, that each of us does the hard work of relentless and unflinching self-examination. It’s the only thing that works. It’s the only way to break the spell our bad habits and unconscious cravings cast over us. When we do not have clarity and vision and act instead from our mindless conditioning, great harm results, to ourselves and to those around us.

Hunger and desire are not the problem. They never were. They were convenient scapegoats upon which to heap all the blame. Our Puritanical impulses are born of this great misunderstanding. It’s not censorship and abstinence we need – it’s consciousness and awakening, grounded in compassion for ourselves and others. Say yes to that which serves our highest good and no to that which doesn’t. It’s not complicated. It’s not mysterious. We carry within us the gold standard by which all actions can be tested – our God-given minds, our awakening hearts and our memory of what worked and didn’t work in the past. We know what to do and we know how to do it. All that’s left is a decision.

Intention vs. Attachment

It’s important to have goals. How can you build or create anything without first envisioning it, imagining it, wanting it?

Yet clinging too tightly to a specific outcome is destructive to the living, breathing evolutionary process that any real growth entails. How can we make peace with this paradox? How can we simultaneously hold fast while letting go?

An essential quality of wisdom is the ability to discern between intention and attachment.

Intention is a powerful condition of consciousness, a thought-action that reverberates out into the surrounding field re-ordering the elements of the field. Like radio waves, intention travels unseen at the speed of light, bending around corners and influencing the fabric of space and time. Our intentions draw things toward us the way magnets attract and align iron filings. In true intention there is no attachment to any particular outcome – that would be hubris and ultimately destructive to our aims. We simply set intentions, take the next indicated step and let go.

Attachment, on the other hand, is a pathological, egoic, fear-based need to control the people, situations and events in the world around us. Imposing our private preferences on the uncarved whole of the world robs life of its spontaneous, evolutionary energy. Our short-sighted craving places limits on the unlimited potential of the now moment – limits that ultimately restrict the flow of the universe’s infinite abundance into our lives. It’s a terrible irony – by craving we push everything away.

Intention is a state of deep receptivity. Attachment is an impenetrable shell.

Intention is a state of deep cooperation with what is. Attachment is a futile struggle against what is, characterized by resentment, fear and victim-consciousness.

Intention roots deep in the consciousness of gratitude and savors the journey. Attachment is a childish sense of entitlement fueled by grandiose fantasies and fixation on selfish and arbitrarily contrived expectations.

So how do we put this into practice?

Let’s start with a vision. If money were no object, and if the path was wide open, what would you be doing with your life? In other words, if the how were taken care of, what would you be? It’s vitally important to separate the how from the what because once you really commit in full intention to the what, the how takes care of itself. Intention is an aligning energy that orders the surrounding field. Fixating on the how – the logistical complexity and all the hurdles – draws precious energy and resources away from the womb of intention, the great Mother that gives birth to the what.

So you want to be a large animal veterinarian, or a professional musician, or publish a book, or create a non-profit service organization, or work to reverse environmental degradation, or write the next great app. How do you begin?

Let’s talk about farming.

A farmer intends to raise a crop of tomatoes. But she knows she doesn’t really control the process. She merely cuts the channel through which the power of life flows, fully aware that she is not the source of the power. Her stance is one of deep cooperation, not imposition.

It begins with the end in mind – a vision of a bountiful yield. Then comes all the hard work – learning everything you can about every aspect of your endeavor, preparing the soil, finding the right seeds, putting the right kind of team together, co-creating the best possible conditions in which your seeds can unfold from the core of their essential nature, willingly and reverently sacrificing your time, talent and treasure in the singular focus of your aim, all the while knowing that anything and everything could change, and at any given moment you might have to start dancing.

Then you wait.

Remember, you are as much witnessing this process as creating it. A state of deep humility is far more productive than arrogance. We don’t control the weather – the frost, the rain, the heat, the drought – nor do we control the caterpillars or the blackbirds that come and pluck the caterpillars away. We do everything we can to prepare for all likely situations, but in the end our only sane stance is complete and utter surrender. When our fists are clenched we feel only our own fingernails digging into our palms. When our hands are open we feel the sun and the moon and the wind and we are more readily able to receive what is given. And when the harvest is ready, a budding joy comes to fruition along with our tomatoes because there is nothing more satisfying than aligning our energies with the larger forces around us.

This is the great paradox – it is only through surrender that we grow strong, it is only through generosity that we receive everything we need, it is only by emptying out that we become full, it is only by letting go of our slavish attachment to a particular outcome that the highest possible good is able to manifest itself in our lives. Yet there must be intention and clarity of vision. Cooperating with what is already unfolding is different than sitting back and waiting for something to happen. The first requires a state of great alertness. The second looks a lot like napping.

When we fail to discern the difference between intention and attachment, two confusions emerge. The first confusion is the mistaken belief that intention and attachment are the same – that intention is just a fancy word for self-centered craving and hence is to be avoided. People who hold this mistaken view tend to hide from the world, hide their own light, shun success and see ambition as a dirty word. They distrust powerfully creative people while secretly envying them. They bad-mouth the trappings of success and cop an attitude of smug superiority to ward off the chill of their own poverty of spirit.

The second confusion is the mistaken belief that self-seeking and clawing your way to the top is the highest good. Here the line between healthy growth and selfish craving is blurred. The empty pursuit of fame, wealth and glory may result in an accumulation of the outward trappings of success, but the hole inside is never filled. In both of these mistaken approaches, our authentic joy is never realized.

That’s why discerning the difference between intention and attachment is so important. It may be the most important thing of all. Otherwise, all our work is muddled and confused, lost in the dark and far away from the light of the truth that our deepest joy is inexorably intertwined with the joy of others, and only when we work in the consciousness of service are we liberated from cage of our own ego.

Have a vision. Feel deeply where your heart wants to go, and cultivate the courage to follow. Be truthful, have clarity and be specific. But keep a loose hold on the reins and let the road show you where to go. The end is secured by the confidence of the intention. Attachment, on the other hand, constricts the flow and leads only to stagnation. Stay open and highly alert. Perception and awareness are more important than cleverness and guile. Answer the call of your soul – begin now to do the important work of discerning the difference between intention and attachment.

Lance Armstrong's Gift

When Lance Armstrong sat down with Oprah Winfrey last month to confess his sins he gave us all a gift.  It was a portrait held fast by yellow Live Strong wrist bands and wrapped in the tattered flags of fame – a portrait of what avarice, greed, and self-obsession can do to a magnificent life.   A powerful cautionary tale, Armstrong’s precipitous fall from grace holds a mirror to our own lives.  We may not like what we see.

         2012 was a bad year for Lance Armstrong.  Stripped of all his hard won cycling victories, including his unprecedented seven Tour de France titles and banned from professional cycling for life, Armstrong seemed to have come to the end of his road as the sport’s most prolific master.  In the face of all evidence and testimony Armstrong fought tenaciously for his innocence.  But the old fighter finally ran out of fight. 

           Over two nights in January Armstrong admitted to Oprah on worldwide television that he had indeed used a wide variety of performance enhancing drugs during his entire career as a professional cyclist.  Every one of his Tour de France victories was earned under the influence.

         If he were just a substance abuser, or a cheater, that would be one thing.  But the worst part is the way he went after everyone who crossed him.  In his maniacal campaign to hide the truth he sued and bullied anyone who even remotely threatened his clapboard empire – former coaches, trainers, team members and friends.  Careers were destroyed, relationships severed, families bankrupted and reputations ruined – all to keep the lie intact.

         Armstrong has his fans.  His accomplishments are truly impressive in spite of his flaws.  Considering the high probability that nearly all of his competitors were also doping, Armstrong’s dominance of the sport is truly historic – one for the ages were it not for the fact that his name has been expunged from all cycling records as if he had never existed.  But he is real, and won’t easily be forgotten, especially when you consider his philanthropic work.

         In 1996 Armstrong was diagnosed with testicular cancer.  It spread to his lungs and brain.  After a vigorous round of chemotherapy and testicular surgery he was declared cancer free in 1997, becoming a powerful role model for cancer survivors everywhere.  The Lance Armstrong Foundation, later known as Live Strong, attracted millions of dollars in charitable donations and served the needs of cancer survivors and their families around the world.  It’s hard not to cheer for people who overcome great obstacles, fight their way to victory and use their platform to promote the good of others.

         That’s what makes Armstrong’s fall from grace so painful. 

         When public meltdowns like this come along – this isn’t the first and it won’t be the last – we’re offered an important opportunity for self-examination where the most vexing paradoxes of the human psyche are laid bare.  How can someone so powerful be so weak?  How can someone so disciplined be so impulsive?  How can someone so calculating be so capricious?  And most importantly, what can we learn from Armstrong’s mistakes?

         There is nothing wrong with wanting to be more.  There is nothing wrong with going big, playing hard, and wanting to win.  Ambition, in and of itself, is not evil.  But without careful introspection into one’s motives, the path to mastery is fraught with danger.

         The urge to grow and expand is built into the very fabric of life itself.  To be alive is to continually emerge.  It is in our nature to swim through the circumstances and challenges of our lives seeking something better and becoming stronger in the process. 

         Sports make a game out of this primal impulse.  It is deeply satisfying to test one’s mettle against others in seemingly arbitrary contests of wit and strength.  Put a ball through a hoop.  Run around a lawn touching all four bases.  Race bicycles through the hills of France.  It isn’t the particulars that matter, it’s the universals.  We live vicariously through our athlete-heroes because they play out for us in grand fashion this deep and defining primal drama.

         We bring this same set of impulses to any human endeavor – the arts, music, business, even love.  The hunger for more drives us like a lash.  The hunger itself is neither good nor bad.  It’s the consciousness we bring to the game that determines its morality.

         In a revealing moment of honesty, Armstrong told Oprah that he “needed to control every outcome.”  It wasn’t enough to compete and test his skill against other cycling masters.  He only wanted to play if winning was guaranteed.  And he was willing to do anything to win, even sacrifice his own joy. 

         At one point Oprah asked him, “Did you enjoy winning?”

         He didn’t answer.  Instead he said, “I enjoyed the process.”  Learning to discern the difference between the joys of the process and the pathology of outcome-obsession is a journey Armstrong is only now beginning to take.

         No matter how far you make it in any field, there is always someone farther along, deeper inside or higher up.  The restlessness and dissatisfaction that fueled you as a starving actor still haunts you as you accept your first Oscar because so and so has two, or three, or a lifetime achievement award.  A San Diego Music Award is not a Grammy, and a Grammy is not the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  It never ends.  For Armstrong, winning an unprecedented seven Tour de France titles was a hollow experience.  A million wouldn’t be enough.

         Like Darth Vader, Gollum and Midas, Armstrong was eaten from the inside by his own malice. He became a monster.  His hubris eclipsed his humanity.  Yet when the moon is eclipsed by the earth’s shadow it doesn’t stop being the moon.  Shadows move.  There is always hope for redemption. 

         In the race for Armstrong’s soul, his steepest climbs lay ahead of him.

         In our own lives, do we want to be the best to fill some perceived deficiency? Or do we simply want to honor what is growing and emerging through us, and experience our gift as an opportunity to serve in a joyful spirit of generosity and celebration?  Is it more fun to win at all costs, or playfully compete with integrity, honor and mutual respect?

         Lance Armstrong tried to run the entire universe.  His fear and craving told him that the only way to survive this wild and wonderful life was by turning everything into a battle, everyone into an enemy and every joy into a conflict.  His discipline, power and mastery, even his compassion and willingness to serve, were all subverted by self-obsession and pathological craving. 

            In our own lives, we have to find a way to balance ambition with service, ego with selflessness, excellence with humility and effort with effortlessness.  It is not wrong to want to be more.  Honor that which is emerging through you by cultivating the courage to express your own greatness in a way that honors your authentic nature without diminishing the greatness of others.  Know that the light within you does not belong to you – it belongs to all of us.  It is a sacred treasure, not private property.  It is a gift that only shines in the giving.   Although a gifted athlete and generous philanthropist, the lessons of this tragedy are perhaps Lance Armstrong’s greatest gift.