Absolute Desire

Absolute Desire

Goosebumps rise on my arms and I start to sweat.
The decision feels huge—life-altering.

This isn’t easy.
There are too many things I want do and to study. Too many worlds to explore.

Realistically, the choice has already made itself. I’ve completed two-thirds of my psychology degree.
But, I don’t want to feel boxed in.
So, I make a promise to myself—
I’ll finish the requirements,
but in my heart, I’ll stay open to whatever the school of life has to teach.

But this raises bigger questions:
What will I do when I graduate?
What do I want from life?

I grab a pen and paper.
I draw a line down the center.
At the top, I write: Wants on the left, Needs on the right.

I need food. Shelter. Clothing.
To get those, I’ll need a job. I write those down.

But I don’t want just a job—
I want something that matters.
Something that brings joy. That serves others.
I try to picture what that might be.
Nothing comes to mind.
So instead, I ask: What would it take to get there?

A PhD, maybe.
That bumps me into a higher income bracket—
Enough to support the family I want.

I write “family” on the Wants side.

If I want that, I’ll need a house.
A car. Not just for my wife,
but for the 2.5 kids I intend to have.

That kind of life will take serious income.

Maybe I should be an investment banker.
No—why not a CEO?
Hmm. That sounds better.

I scratch out PhD and write MBA.

With that, I could have more—
Vacation house, perhaps. A sports car, too. Maybe a Porsche.

And as long as I’m dreaming—
Why stop there?
Why not go big or go home?

Shoot for the moon.
Be a billionaire.

Hmm, but even if I were a billionaire,
would that be fulfilling? I mean, would that serve others or bring them joy?

What if I had all the money in the world?
And could buy anything I wanted?
Would that be enough?

Would I be satisfied?

No.
Something’s missing.

An emptiness I can’t quite define.
That’s when I put down my pencil
and look out the window into the night sky.

I behold the vastness of space and all that fills it.

Galaxies upon galaxies stretching before me.

That’s when I realize the futility of absolute desire.

I get goosebumps.
Something in me withers and dies.

Never again will I want for terrestrial or celestial things.