What is a life without desire?
On repeat...somewhere in Northern Italy...
Call Me By Your Name.
From the movie to the book to the audiobook, I have become so attached to this story. (If you haven’t watched, read, or listened, please do ☺️).
I’ve been asking myself why I am so drawn to this story (besides of course the perfection and beauty that is Timothée Chalamet!), and I’ve landed on one word:
Vulnerability of the artists and the characters.
And in that vulnerability: grace.
The grace with which this most vulnerable story is executed.
And in that grace: power.
The power to stir up the same intense vulnerability within me, acting as a permission slip to open myself up, shining a light on my desire to be raw, messy, and human. (Simply writing these words is bringing tears to my eyes…my second set of watery eyes so far on my 10-hour train journey from Sicily to Rome).
The power to make me f e e l.
F e e l something that I don’t have the precise words for, but at its most basic level is the human experience…
Sorrow, joy, fear, love, d e s i r e.
Ooo yea let’s go back to that one: d e s i r e.
So much tied up in that single word and idea, mangling with the sins of lust and envy, acting as the root cause of all suffering.
The Buddhist in me knows that there is some truth in the connection between desire and suffering, for if we are always desiring, it means we are not present, and we are beholden to the illusory states of the past or the future.
But the imperfect, unenlightened, wild woman in me asks, but what is a life without desire?
What is life without those very feelings that make us feel a l i v e?
l o v i n g…
c r a v i n g…
d e s i r i n g…
I think there's truth in both ways of living.
It's about learning to dance with desire, getting addicted to being alive, and knowing that this moment right here is: Desirable. Alive. Enough.
What do you desire?