I sit quietly meditating on the floor in front of my home altar. A small Chihuahua named Hanuman, brilliant and strikingly handsome, lays curled up peacefully by my side.

Knock-knock-knock.

The serene setting is interrupted by someone at the door and now, by Hanuman’s frenetic barking. He jumps up from my side and lunges into action, dashing off in the direction of the commotion.

I slowly get off my cushion and, still in my meditative haze, glide down the hallway to the front door. I wouldn’t even bother to answer it save for two distinct possibilities: 1. the house is on fire and the neighbors have come by to warn me. 2. Ed McMahon has dropped by with a giant cardboard check with my name on it. Both slim possibilities I admit, but I like to hedge my bets.

I pick up Hanuman to avert any Chihuahua-related ankle injuries and open the door. Two young men with neat haircuts, sporting white short-sleeve shirts and ties stand smiling at me in the 110 degree heat. Each has basketball-sized sweat stains beneath their armpits and two bikes lean up against the side of the house behind them. The guy on the right is tall, gangly, with a brown leather briefcase tucked officiously under one arm; the other is a shorter fellow whose ill-fitting shirt, replete with a symphony of creases and wrinkles, billows unceremoniously about his midsection. His sun-burned face reminds me of a crimson hued oompa-loompa. I affectionately name them Stretch and Lumpy.

“Good afternoon.” They say in unison.

“Hi.” I say, noting almost immediately that: 1. my house is not on fire, and 2: there is a striking absence of any super-sized check with my name on it, I smile politely, “I’m not really interested…”

Lumpy jumps in “Uh yes sir, um, well we’re just…”

Stretch interrupts, “We’re not selling anything, we’re just in the neighborhood spreading the good word of the Lord.”

My ears perk up. Ducking my head out the door, I take a quick look down the street to the left, then right, as if guarding the door of a speakeasy. I lean in close and say in a muted tone. “God sent you?”

The dynamic duo seems taken aback, at first not sure if I’m sincere, joking, or just crazy. It seems this question isn’t in the field manual. I look expectantly at Lumpy then Stretch, a wry smile comes across his face as he recognizes my affable ribbing. “Well, I guess you could say that.” He nods confidently.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” I smile, “I’m a huge fan of his work, come on in.” I open the door wide and with a grand gesture wave them into the comfort of my air conditioned abode.

Lumpy looks to Stretch for guidance; Stretch shrugs and takes a step through the door. Lumpy follows with a look of trepidation etched in his brow.

I close the door behind them with my free arm; Hanuman keeps a watchful eye on our guests from his perch in my other.

“Have a seat, boys.” I wave them over to the sofa. They both sit bolt upright each perched on only about two inches of sofa looking as uncomfortable as can be. I imagine if it weren’t for the relief from the heat, they would have been pedaling madly down the block by now.

“Can I offer you a drink of water?”

“That would be wonderful, sir.” Says Stretch

“Call me E.”

“E?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay E.”

I’m beginning to get the idea that Stretch is the pitch man.

I put Hanuman down and he immediately jumps up into my reading chair, where he continues to calmly survey the scene. I walk into the kitchen and pour three of glasses of ice water and return. I hand two to the young apostles and keep one for myself. They eagerly gulp theirs down.

“More?” I ask.

They both nod silently and extend the glasses back in my direction. I leave my glass on the credenza, take theirs, and once again disappear into the kitchen. Rejoining my newfound friends, I place the drinks on the coffee table before them and take a seat in my reading chair next to Hanuman.

“So what have you got for me today?” I purposely address Lumpy inviting him out of his reticence.

“Got for you?” He asks, as if surprised by the question.

“Yes, you’re here to spread the Word right?”

“Oh, yes, well, we’re from a church called X, you’ve probably heard of it?”

“I have.”

“Well, um, we’re wanting to help people to, um, you know, uh…”

Stretch puts his hand on Lumpy’s arm. “What my associate is trying to say is that we have a bit of reading material that can help you live your life—both in this one and the hereafter.”

“Wow, hereafter too, huh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, sounds good. Lay it on me.”

Stretch lays his briefcase out on his thighs and fumbles with the latch. He pounds twice on the top with his closed fist and it magically opens. “Dropped it in traffic last month and it hasn’t been the same since.” He shrugs as he pulls out a booklet and hands it to me.

A color illustration of a family is on the cover, the father in a cardigan sweater, the mother in a dress and apron, three children stand smiling dutifully at their sides. It’s a portrait reminiscent of Father Knows Best with a touch of Leave it to Beaver thrown in for good measure. The booklet is entitled: “Freedom from Desire and the Kingdom of God.”

“Thanks.” I say, musing over the cover. I look up to Stretch. “So what can you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“Yes, certainly you didn’t mean to just drop this off. I mean if you did, you could have just mailed it and saved yourselves a bunch of trouble—not to mention a healthy dry cleaning bill.” I say motioning at their rumpled and sweat stained garb. “So what’s on your mind?”

“Well sir, uh, E,” Stretch begins, “We’re spreading the good Word of the Lord,” gesturing at the booklet, “in hopes of helping people to enter the Kingdom.”

“Of heaven?” I ask.

“Yes, of heaven.”

I look expectantly toward the two anticipating the secret to entering heaven, but nothing comes. We find ourselves blanketed by a long, uncomfortable pause; polite smiles all around.

I start again: “Okay, so what can you tell me about this booklet?”

“It’s supposed to help you with your salvation.” Stretch says.

“Uh huh, I see. I noticed the word ‘desire’ on the cover,” I hold up the booklet and point to the title, “How does desire fit in to all of this?”

“Desire is the root of evil.” Lumpy offers

“It is?” I pause to stroke Hanuman who is now curled up along side me in his patented Hanu-ball position, “So what about the desire for the Kingdom of Heaven itself, is that evil too?”

“Oh no, there’s a difference between righteous desire and selfish desire.” Stretch jumps in, “what my friend here was referring to is desire for worldly pleasure.” he then nudges Lumpy with his elbow. Lumpy clears his throat and takes the cue.

“Righteous desire is the beginning of faith, yet desires for worldly pleasures must first be overcome.” He proclaims in a measured and well-rehearsed tone.

“Ah, I see.”

“Yes,” Stretch jumps in, “and it is the exertion of our God-given will to resist these temptations of the flesh and to instead do the good works of the Lord that will save us.”

“So God gave me free will to resist these temptations?” I ask.

“Yes, he did.” Stretch answers.

“But didn’t he also create the temptations themselves?”

Silence. Lumpy leans over to Stretch and in a low whisper, “That’s a good question.” Stretch dismisses him with a look of stern reproach.

“In fact, didn’t God create everything?” I add.

“Well, yes, that’s true?”

“So why then am I being asked to overcome God-given temptations?”

“That’s what God asks of you.”

“Okay, God asks this of me but I can choose not to?”

“Yes, you can, but you will be eternally damned.”

“So if I can go against God’s will, does that make me more powerful than God? Surely you’re not suggesting that.”

“No, of course not.” Stretch assures me, “You can go against the will of God because He gave you the free will to do so.”

“He gave me free will?”

“Yes.”

“Therefore it’s His will that I go against His will?” I ask.

They both look at each other with knitted brow.

“I don’t know about that.” Stretch says.

Silence again descends. Both boys pick up their drinks in unison and take a few sips to mask the uncomfortable silence. I do love interesting questions, but I’m beginning to feel my guests are becoming a bit ill at ease, so I redirect: “I’m fascinated by this idea about overcoming desires.” I say, “I take it you are suggesting that the work is to replace selfish desires with divine, or what you’re calling righteous desires? Is that it?”

“Exactly it.” Stretch says, his confidence again buoyed, “and it is these righteous desires that will fuel your faith—and ensure your salvation.”

“I see. That sounds pretty good.” I now pause to sip my own water, “but a lot of work if you ask me. Selfish desires are plentiful.”

Lumpy giggles, “You can say that again.” He turns to Stretch smiling. Stretch shoots him a momentary glare.

“That’s true, but for the promise of everlasting redemption, it’s a cause worth fighting.” says Stretch.

“To be a soldier of God you must be more than a weekend warrior.” Lumpy adds with confidence, now back on message.

“I’m going to make a radical suggestion here.” I say.

“Okay.”

“Maybe these God-given selfish desires aren’t to be resisted, but rather they are to be understood.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here’s the idea: There is no such thing as an un-divine desire. As a matter of fact, there’s no such thing as an un-divine anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, God is omnipotent, all powerful, right?”

“Yes.”

“Omnipresent, or everywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Omniscient or all knowing?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if He is in everything, knows everything, is more powerful than everything. It only follows that He is responsible for everything.”

“Then why do we need to concern ourselves with desire at all?” asks Lumpy.

“I should be asking you that, you’re the fellow with the brochure.” I joke.

“Oh yeah.”

“But seriously, it is a good question.” I affirm, “but first we need to establish what religious practices are all about. Why do we even engage in them?”

“To enter the Kingdom.” Stretch offers up, as if the answer was almost too obvious to utter.

“And how is the Kingdom entered?”

“By obeying the Word of God.” He says.

I can see that Stretch is on autopilot, offering the “right” answers without thinking. I decide to take another tack.

“Let’s try this: where is the Kingdom?”

Stretch pauses and Lumpy looks on expectantly.

“Neither shall they say, Lo here…” I hint

Nothing.

“Or lo there…” I continue.

Silence.

“For behold the…”

“…Kingdom of God is within you!” Lumpy concludes. He looks at Stretch grinning excitedly. “That’s from Luke.”

“I know.” Stretch replies.

“So the Kingdom is within, yes?” I ask.

“Yeah, I guess.” Stretch answers with a tinge of exasperation in his voice.

“And how is it approached, I mean other than by obeying the Word of God?”

Stretch gazes distantly, “Other than that? I’m not sure.”

“Here’s a clue: What do most religious practices have in common: prayer, chanting, song, contemplation, ritual?”

My question falls flat.

I try again: “Let me ask you this: how do you feel after you engage in these practices?”

Lumpy’s face scrunches as he digs into his memory banks, “Relaxed, quiet.” He concludes.

“Right. Still, quiet, maybe even introspective?”

“Yes, introspective, like turning within…toward the Kingdom!” Lumpy’s putting the pieces together.

“So what we’re saying is that the Kingdom is within and we are usually so busy and distracted with external things that we are not able to enter it.” I conclude.

“And this is where desire comes in.” Lumpy adds, now enthusiastically participating, “Desires can be totally distracting.” He elbows Stretch and winks, “Right?”

Stretch just rolls his eyes.

“So that my friends is why we need to concern ourselves with desire. But the question as to how to work with desire is still on the table.”

My two guests have finally relaxed enough to sit back in the couch, but I still get the distinct feeling that they’re humoring me less in the name of my salvation, and more for the fact that it’s a cool 75 degrees in my living room.

“Okay, so how do we work with desire then?” Stretch asks.

“Remember we’ve already concluded that everything under the sun is divine—and this includes desires, righteous or otherwise.”

“Right…” Lumpy says.

“And this is why I’m suggesting that maybe these selfish temptations aren’t to be resisted, but rather they are to be understood.”

“What do you mean?” Asks Stretch

“Since these so-called selfish desires are just as divine as anything else, don’t you think we should endeavor to understand them, rather than summarily dismissing them as ‘evil’?”

Lumpy turns to Stretch, “He does have a point.” Stretch nods.

One of the keys to a successful spiritual practice is a willingness to question our most deeply held beliefs—rather than relying upon rotely memorized dictums. This involves dissecting and studying the very processes that underlie our habits and mental tendencies; a process which can be at once unnerving and fascinating. In the words of the Buddha: you must work out your own salvation.

“The key in working with desire is in the understanding of desire.” I say, “Isn’t that what Pastor Michelson teaches?” I ask, “The key is understanding?”

“You know Pastor M?” Lumpy asked, surprised.

“I do.” I smile

“He knows Pastor M!” Lumpy turns to Stretch.

“I heard.” Stretch replies unsure of whether it’s a cause for celebration or worry.

“Wow, how do you know Pastor M?” Lumpy continues “You’re not a member of our congregation, are you?”

“Not exactly…but we can talk about that later. Let’s get back to desire shall we?” I say.

“If that’s your desire.” Stretch replies. The opportunity for a pun lightens him up a bit.

“I do believe it is.” I smile and continue: “You see, it is in seeking to understand desire, that the key to using desire skillfully is revealed.” I say.

“So what is it that we’re supposed to understand about desire?” asks Stretch.

“It’s this:” I lean in a bit closer for effect, “All desires—and I mean all desires—are ultimately for the same thing.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense.” Stretch counters, “My desire for a new car…”
“with air conditioning.” Lumpy adds.

“Yes, with air conditioning, is completely different from my desire to be with God.” Stretch says.

“Do you think so?” I ask.

“I know so.” He says somewhat indignantly.

“Okay, let’s look at that.” I say, “First of all, I’m going to suggest you don’t really want a new car.”

“With air conditioning.” Lumpy again adds.

“With air conditioning.” I say.

“I don’t?” Stretch counters, “Well then I’m going to suggest that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stay with me, friend.” I say, “Tell me why you want a new car.”

“With air conditioning.” Lumpy adds.

“We get it!” Both Stretch and I retort in unison. It breaks the tension.

“First of all, it’s hot outside. Also, public transportation around here is pretty poor. And it would afford me a new level of freedom in my life.”

“Okay, fair enough. So you want a new car so you can experience comfort, convenience, and freedom.” I confirm.

“That sounds about right.”

“It’s safe to say then, if a new car with air conditioning didn’t provide you comfort, convenience, and freedom, you wouldn’t want it. Right?”

“I guess, but I know that it will.”

“I understand that, but just for the sake of an exercise, suppose that it wouldn’t, suppose it would be more uncomfortable than the heat, less convenient than the bus, and more constraining than relying upon friends for rides. Would you still want it?”

“But it won’t be like that.”

“Yes, I know,” I say, “but again pretend for a moment. Would you still want it under those circumstances?”

“No, of course not.” Stretch concedes.

“Okay, so what we now know is that what you really want is comfort, convenience, and freedom.”

“I suppose.”

“Now why do you want to be comfortable?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not really,” I say, “No.”

“I want be comfortable because it’s comfortable.”

“You can’t use the same word.” Lumpy interjects.

Stretch glares at Lumpy with a look of exasperation, “I don’t know.” he says, “Doesn’t everyone want to be comfortable?”

“Not really, people who are too comfortable go out and climb Mount Everest or sail the oceans in small boats or become involved in all manner of challenging things.” I say, “But let’s not worry about them for the moment.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you want to be comfortable?”

“That’s a good question, I’ll admit.” Stretch says, “But I’m not sure.”

“Try this on: comfort brings you a measure of peace.”

Stretch pauses to think. “Yeah, I can go along with that.”

“So what about convenience?”

“What about convenience?”

“Why do you want convenience?” I ask

“Because it’s convenient.”

“You can’t use the same word!” Lumpy our referee chimes in.

Stretch leans back into the couch and gazes up at the ceiling. “I suppose…” he scratches his head, “I suppose it has to do with peace as well. It allows me to relax and be less stressed.”

“Okay, and what about freedom.”

“And you can’t say to be free.” Lumpy interrupts.

“I got it, thanks.” Stretch says to Lumpy and then turns to me. “You know…” a smile comes across his face.

“It’s about peace, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so we’ve established that you don’t really want a new car, or even comfort, convenience, or freedom, what you really want is to be at peace, ease, or what we might call fulfillment.” I confirm, “Is that fair?”

“I guess it is.” Stretch says.

“So once again, the idea is that all desires are ultimately for the same thing: peace, fulfillment, and ease—regardless of whether you’re desiring a new car, a cute girlfriend, or a million dollars.”

“I never really thought of it that way, but yes, I can go along with that.” Stretch nods.

“In other words, you experience desire, a yearning for peace and fulfillment—which is the only thing that anyone really wants—and then you misinterpret the yearning as a desire for something else, like a car.”

“Why do we do that?” Lumpy asks.

“To be honest, we could be here all day investigating that question.” I say, “Suffice it to say that part of the answer is it’s the way we’ve been trained to obtain fulfillment, through achievement and acquisition. We’ve been programmed by our surroundings to look for happiness outside.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it true that the car will bring him fulfillment.” Lumpy counters.

“Yes it is, but only for a short time.” I say turning to Stretch, “When was the last time you got something you really, really wanted?”

“Last year I got a scholarship to school that I had been working to get for years.”

“Did it fulfill you?” I ask.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“And for how long?” I persist.

“Until about a week after school started.” He chuckles.

I turn back to Lumpy, “It’s just the nature of the mind.” I say, “It’s never lastingly satisfied no matter how much we accomplish, how much we have, or how much we do. It eventually gets bored or begins craving the next thing.”

Lumpy nods pensively.

“So we have to be very clear: what we are all desiring is not fulfillment, but rather perfect everlasting fulfillment.”

“And that’s true regardless of whether the mind is craving an ice cream cone or the perfect mate?” Stretch adds.

“You’ve got it.”

“And that kind of everlasting fulfillment can only be had through divine union.” Lumpy concludes.

“Right again” I say.

Stretch leans forward with a look of recognition on his face “So the only reason that I’m chasing after anything—even the most supposedly “un-righteous” of desires—is to obtain that everlasting fulfillment.” He nods, “That’s intense.”

“Intense.” Lumpy echoes, nodding and staring into the distance.

“Pastor M would be proud of you fellows.” I say.

They both beam like proud…well, like proud evangelists.

“And that’s why Pastor M says we should seek to understand. We need to understand our selfish desires.” Stretch confirms.

“That’s definitely part of it,” I say, “I mean, there is much more to understanding than just the process of desire…”

“Oh yeah, we get that.” Lumpy says.

“But for our work with desire it boils down to this: there is no question about aligning one’s self with the righteous, divine desires and wrestling with the selfish, demonic desires.” I say, “rather our job is to recognize that all desire is calling us toward the ultimate in fulfillment, union with the divine, or as we say in yoga, Self-realization.”

“Yoga?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention I’m a yoga teacher.”

“Okay, but what does stretching have to do with it?” Lumpy asks.

“Let’s save that discussion for another time.”

Blessings to all,

E

Yogi E, a.k.a. Eric Walrabenstein is the founder and director of Yoga Pura in Phoenix, AZ. He is the architect of Yoga Pura’s year-long Advanced Studies Program and trains yoga teachers nationally. E regularly travels the country holding workshops on the process of enlightenment and translating ancient yogic truths for daily living. He is currently at work on a book on unreasonable happiness.

Copyright 2007, Eric Walrabenstein, all rights reserved.