Meet Desire's Terrible Twin

The anticipation of something desirable is always sweet in conception, which would be great if it weren't for a certain fact about the nature of longing itself: it appears within us, at first, by itself, bringing with it the promise of just what we need to make everything right. But appearances are not always what they seem; for standing directly behind it, as it were -- waiting to step out of the shadows -- is desire's unseen opposite: it's "terrible" twin.

The nature of desire is a "coin" with two faces. This means it's impossible to long for -- to imagine some happiness to come -- without not wanting whatever may come between you and the fulfillment imagined. In other words, the same part of us that imagines a new happiness can't help but worry over what will become of us should this pleasure be withheld.

We have stumbled upon the existence of two seemingly separate selves within us--isolated from one another by a kind of gap -- an invisible psychological gulf -- that exists between them. It will help to try to envision this strange inner condition.

First, there is the "soon-to-be complete" me; the sense of self that counts on feeling whole once it acquires whatever it has imagined is missing. However, very much present, and in operation at the same time, there is also a sense of self that feels somehow incomplete; that, try as it might, can never hold onto the illusive wholeness it has imagined. It is this discontented self that keeps desire in overdrive -- striving, seeking a map that will lead to the "promised land" of lasting contentment. Which brings us to this main point:

The "me" that seeks some imagined wholeness, and that revels in this equally imagined sense of self, doesn't really exist without the "me" that always feels incomplete, and that wants to escape its unwanted sense of self. Neither sense of self can exist without the other; they are secret opposites, unconscious polar twins, unaware of the fact that one dreams of the wholeness it does because the other dreams it's incomplete.

Can you see the negative effect of being asleep to the workings of this divided mind, and how by identifying with either side of this unconscious self -- and with what it wants -- we unknowingly agree to feel its dissatisfaction? And further, how once we've identified with its pervasive sense of being incomplete, which includes its pain, it seems we've little choice but to do as it wills?

This lower order of will -- that misdirects us at virtually every turn -- belongs to an order of being that is the expression of incompleteness itself. This "never-enough" nature cannot find the peace it seeks any more than one end of a burning stick can hope to extinguish the fire on its other side.

We have all fought, in vain, with the demands of this insatiable will in one way or another. We have tried to stand up to it and not be taken over by its hungering cries. But who can honestly say, "Yes, I have won this war within myself" when -- even as we cut down one hunger -- another appears in its place?