The Grace of Pure Desire

This week, I had a session with a client who has been struggling with a relationship dillema. I'll give the meta-overview of the situation. I think it's one most of you will probably relate to at some level or another.

A long-standing relationship, with long-standing patterns, that has never really been satisfying (probably to either participant). One person begins to transform in their life and the nature of the relationship, which was never satisfying for them, now begins to feel so unsatisfying that they come to a crisis point -- something's got to give. The relationship must transform, or they must leave it.

In the course of our time together, something became clear to me about the thrash and struggle of the situation -- it was clear that, even though the relationship was difficult, and had always been difficult, this person still wanted a relationship.

Which meant that the act of discarding or leaving the relationship would be no more satisfying than continuing with it as it was. This seemed, to me, to leave only one option: To fully embrace and reveal the fact that the relationship was desired, and to engage in the work of possible transformation.

As we talked about that reality, my client's eyes filled with tears. As some of you may have heard Carruch say: "When you squeeze a human being with the truth, the water comes out, for that is what you mostly are."

And so, tonight, I want to talk about the grace of recognizing a pure desire.

I'm aware that I entertain a fear that truly embracing and expressing my pure desires will result in me being in a position of great vulnerability.

For example, if I admit, through all my tough, realistic facade, that I deeply and purely desire a world and a society that is revealing, just, and alive for all, I realize that I am expressing a desire that requires the participation of others. Others who might say "no". Who might laugh at me for being idealistic or impractical. Who might throw me out of the "normal" club. (Ooops. Too late.)

AND -- in spite of the presence of that fear, this desire is still in me. It is real and palpable -- and conscious, when I allow it to be. It motivates much of my action in life.

This desire is a "what is so" for me.

I want to co-create and live in a world that is just and authentic and alive for all.

I have recently had a situation in my life with an erstwhile friend. My estimation of the situation is that we have been at an impasse -- neither proceeding with ending our relationship nor proceeding with cultivating it. It has, for me, been hanging in limbo for some months.

There have been times when, for simplicity's sake, I have wanted to just say: "Well, that's over with." In many ways, it seems like it would be a relief to just cut the cords and move on. But when I search my heart of hearts, I still have a desire to create and maintain living, functional relationship with this person. That is the "what is so" for me, no matter how much I might want to expedite the process, no matter how much I dislike the feeling of being in limbo.

In relating to others, my power and responsibility is limited. I can choose what I think, say, and do -- that's it. I cannot choose what they think, say, or do. I can invite them to the process of relating with me, I can be responsible about how I think, speak, and act with them, and there, my power ends.

I think that I knew this in some innate manner even before I assimilated the concept at an intellectual level. In a society that touts "being in control" as an important aspect of life, I think I experienced consternation when I ran up against the greater cosmic reality that I could only be in control of myself.

The suggested road-map in the societal mindset I was raised in seems to me to be something like this: "Control as much of your life as you can, including finances, circumstances, and other people -- make this a primary focus of your life. Color inside the lines, but don't be boring. If you are smart enough, you can figure out how to get people to do what you want them to do, without them getting mad at you. Plan for the worst. Be nice. Blah. Blah. Blah.".

I rejected a lot of this stuff at an early age, much to the dismay of some of the people around me.

But somehow I retained this sneaking, nasty little mantra: "Don't reveal what you want. It will be used against you."

In this impasse with my erstwhile friend, I think I have journeyed to the edge of my own power and responsibility. I have clearly invited them to participate with me. I have revealed what I want. Now I wait, cultivating my own courage to continue embracing my ongoing desire for participatory friendship, even if that desire goes unanswered by the other.

I think that is the source of the water in my client's eyes. To face the what-is-so of pure desire for something or someone, whether the desire is met or not, is an act of meeting the Self.

The Buddhists might argue that this is the reason to desire nothing, as they cite desire as a source of suffering. But really, that seems like a form of spiritual cop-out to me at this point, a lack of willingness to face the pure desire that is truly present. (I may change my mind about this as I become more enlightened ;-).

The dance I have been dancing in my limbo-relationship is the balance between honoring my own clearly stated boundaries and the pure desire I have for connection with this person. I want to connect with the other, but will not do so at the expense of connection with my Self (in the form of honoring my own boundaries). I found this reflected in my client's difficulty as well.

I've been taking this whole experience as an opportunity to become clear and whole with my Self. In many ways, it has served me, although it has been uncomfortable at times.

I believe that it is a sign of hope, for me, that I still hold this desire to connect. It means, to me, that the events of my relationship with this person are not more powerful than my intention in the relationship.

There have been times in my life when others have chosen not to meet me, have chosen not to accept my invitation, and I attempted to summarily dismiss them from my existence, even though my desire to connect with them remained. In these instances, I had to work very hard to make them "evil", "bad", or "wrong" so that I could justify my choice.

I have found that, when I am truly done with a relationship, I have no need to make the other person "bad" or "wrong", and they usually haven't had the need to make me "bad" or "wrong" either -- we're just done, as if our contract had ended. We might even provide each other with good references, like any two people who have satisfactorily completed their agreed-upon work.

But if the desire for connection is still there, it's still there -- no matter what I choose to do -- like an unfinished contract, it lingers in the file-drawer, demanding attention each time I open the cabinet to search for a different file.

For me, it is a return to grace to simply acknowledge my pure desires.

I deeply desire to live in a society where everyone speaks and acts authentically, where this authenticity is honored and cherished and valued.

I deeply desire to live in a society where everyone practices the golden rule with themselves and others.

I deeply desire to live in a society where connection and equal exchange between beings is cultivated and nurtured as if our lives depend upon it.

I deeply desire to live in a society where each being is granted the power of their responsibility for themselves, and where each being takes up this power joyfully.

I believe that this is possible. I believe that I will see this society in my lifetime. I am helping to create it right now.

In some ways, even listing these desires feels vulnerable to me. I think that's a good thing.

If I deny my yearning,
does yearning disappear?