On Desire

 

Desire drives progress, but it also steals peace. Learning to want less might be the hardest—and most freeing—work of all.

One of my biggest struggles, for as long as I can remember, has been desire. It’s always more—never less.

Hustle culture, the gig economy, the American dream—whatever you call it, I’ve lived inside of it. And for a long time, I thought it was a good thing. The alternative felt weak.

Why wouldn’t you want to strive for more? If you didn’t, it meant you were lazy. And I never wanted to be lazy. So I pushed. I chased promotions, moved to New York to better myself—and to earn more. I moved into nicer homes, bought nicer things, set bigger goals. Each step forward felt like proof that I was doing it right.

And for a moment, it worked. Each milestone brought a short spurt of joy, a brief sense of arrival. But it always faded just as quickly. Then came the next goal, the next chase, the next version of more.

That cycle became my default setting. Wanting more was easier than learning how to be still. Especially in a place like New York, where striving isn’t just encouraged—it’s expected.

But lately, I’ve started to wonder if I’ve had it backwards. That maybe the real challenge—the harder, braver thing—is to want less. To quiet the need for more and see what’s left. Because if desire is endless, peace never stands a chance.

Across time and tradition, the message has been the same. The Tao Te Ching teaches that when desire fades, peace appears—that the more we chase, the further we drift from contentment. Arthur C. Brooks reminds us that satisfaction isn’t about getting what we want, but wanting what we already have. And Paul reminds us that real wealth isn’t what we gain, but the peace that comes from living in alignment.

Different voices, same truth: the endless wanting is what keeps us uneasy. The moment we let go—even briefly—the world feels lighter.

Maybe the goal isn’t to eliminate desire, but to refine it—to want better. To want peace more than praise. To want meaning more than recognition. To want stillness more than speed.

Because when desire is no longer in control, we can finally be.

— Joe