A life soaked in desire,
or a life where all desire has vanished—
which one do I truly want?

At times it seems that people cannot endure a life without desire more than a life consumed by it.
They believe that only within the frenzy of unceasing desire
does a life of vitality exist.

Perhaps what people fear is not desire itself, but boredom.
When desire disappears, they feel swallowed by boredom,
as though life itself were vanishing,
as though their very being were slowly worn away.

Thus, they come to think that life and love
can only be affirmed when desire runs wild.

For this reason, people do not wish for desire to disappear.
Yet desire does disappear.
Even those desires that seem everlasting
cannot escape fading—and in truth, they fade quickly.

Moments when one clung to desire,
leaning on it as though it were a crutch,
become hollow and fleeting,
like grasping at straw that crumbles in the hand.

And so, people sustain life and love
between desire and boredom.

In truth, boredom is not what remains once desire has gone;
it is itself another desire—
a longing for the desire that has already vanished.
Thus, desire and boredom are two faces of the same being.

Life and love dwell not in desire, nor in boredom,
but in the space between them.
As with life and love,
desire and boredom are neither affirmation nor negation,
but something that exists between the two.

Therefore, life is perhaps compassion.
And love is perhaps endurance.
To continue life and love
is to silently bear compassion for what is lost,
and to endure the long, cold silence
of having been turned away.

Between desire and boredom…

So what is it that I truly want?
A life steeped in desire?
Or a life emptied of it?

The conclusion is clear:
Whichever it may be,
I am still living within a life steeped in desire.