We have seen that hunger and breathing are desires of the body. It is obvious from man’s behaviour that he identifies himself with them because he has never bothered to observe their origin. There are other desires that are not of the body, but again man seldom pauses to observe these desires in himself.
For us who are observers of ourselves there can never be a hidden desire or hidden motivation. If we are always observing ourselves nothing hidden can come in without being spotted, and nothing hidden can get done, because we (the master) are always there.
If you want to do anything there has to be a desire. As soon as the desire arises in your consciousness it exists and you can see it; you can observe it for yourself — because then it is yourself.
Motivation is always the action of a desire and desire always produces its own energy for its fulfilment. The energy is produced through conflict; and conflict is produced by wanting to change what is. You can desire to go to the cinema but the desire-energy-action does not begin until the moment you desire to change what is, to change now. What is only exists now. Tomorrow is what may be. Yesterday is what was.
The first desire is for self-preservation.
You touch a hot iron. You withdraw your hand instantly; there is no thought or decision in the reaction. The body’s desire is to protect itself so it withdraws from the abnormal heat which would otherwise injure or destroy it. It is the same with abnormal cold. When the hand sticks to something abnormally cold like the bottom of a refrigerator tray the mind is not sure at first whether the sensation is the burning of heat or cold. Both sensations are the same to the body. All it does is withdraw swiftly from whatever would destroy it. Desire for self-preservation is the motivator and the body performs without your assistance, without your thought or desire.
An example of interference with the body’s desire: if you try to use thinking to regulate your breath it becomes irregular.
When the body smells toxic fumes in the air it tries to escape. Without a sense of smell it might be destroyed. In the same way, all the senses are a defence system — for self-preservation. The animals act in the same way; although unlike man they do not try to interfere with the system by thinking.
It is man’s habit to see things in relation to his interests. If when you see a snake you perceive it only in relation to your self-preservation you will fail to see it as it is. You will fail to see the superb artistry of its skin pattern, the cold yet vibrant lustre, the wonder of its coiling movements, the brightness of its eyes, the nervous movement of its fine forked tongue. A snake is a thing of beauty if you look at it in relation to itself; (once you have satisfied the desire for self-preservation, of course).
Beauty is not an ‘interest’; beauty is.
You are off to a business appointment. You take a short cut through the park. Your interest at the moment is in the appointment, so you see the trees and flowers only in relation to the appointment and are careful not to walk into the trees or trip over the bushes and flowers. You miss the beauty.
Beauty is in all created things if you can put aside your interests and see things as they are. How else do you think you see beauty, when you do — on those few occasions in your busy thought-full day?
Beauty is, despite you.
A tree will send its roots very deep, even under a road if necessary, to find food or sustenance. It has the desire for food and because of that it lives or is. If there is waste oil in the ground, the roots will avoid the place. If you keep chopping at a root it will grow in another direction. When you make a cut in a tree the sap congeals protectively around the wound, like blood.
From this you can see that the tree combines elementary states of the senses of smell, taste and touch-feeling. From the facts in our experience, we can say that the senses of smell, taste and touch-feeling are primarily associated with the desire of any organism, body or plant, to preserve itself.
Beyond the desire for preservation of the self, the organism or the species is the desire for power. Apparently trees do not see or hear, but animals do. The senses of seeing and hearing are the beginning of the desire for power and because animals have those senses there is a natural movement among them towards leadership, or dominance by the fittest.
This is where you come in, where man begins. The desire for power, for power’s sake, is the beginning of mechanical man, the robot.
You are an expression of the desire for power. You devote your life to this desire. All your ambitions, all your strivings, are directed at satisfying it. When you imagine you achieve it you are happy; when you fail you are unhappy.
The body does not desire power. It does not want company. It only wants to be at ease, and ease includes exercise (when the body desires it). It needs water, food, air and a few other simple things to keep it at ease. If it itches, it scratches itself without any decision by you, even while you are asleep.
So it is not the body that desires power, but you. If you doubt that the pursuit of power occupies almost all of your life you must ask yourself what causes you the greatest worry and anguish.
The loss of a loved one can cause anguish but it will not interfere for long with the pursuit of power. You will find the greatest cause is the anticipated loss of power as position, possessions, prestige and permanence; in other words, the loss of your power as an individual, which is death.
To enjoy power you have to see it exist in relation to yourself, the powerful, and someone else, the powerless or the impressed.
Your desire for power is partly fulfilled when someone praises you, honours you, obeys you, serves you, works for you, quotes you, borrows from you or listens to you.
You are also more powerful than another in your imagination when you can tell him something he does not know; or when you are first to break the news; or when you discuss in someone’s absence their failings or excesses, especially in relation to your own morality and respectability.
Your motives for pursuing power are secondary to the pursuit; and they are imaginary. The pursuit is the fact; your motives are the excuses for the unending pursuit you cannot explain. The pursuit never varies but the motives, the reasons, the excuses are endless.
In a man’s youth the motive, applauded by all, is the desire to meet the challenge, to pursue fame and fortune. When he gets responsibilities he pursues exactly the same things, only now the motive is called duty. From time to time there’s an exciting challenge and he forgets his excuses or motives, pursuing success or power with zest; but always the tendency inside him is to pull back. A sort of weariness begins to show through, and this has to be quickly covered up.
In middle age the motive becomes security, or something like it. In old age, when the pursuit is old and has lost its vigour (but not its virulence), there are more frequent moments when man asks himself, ‘What was it all about? What did I gain?’ But by then it is too late, for soon anything gained will be taken in death.
It is no use having a fortune in gold if you are alone on a desert island. Gold or money is only valuable for what it will buy, which includes respect. If you had inherited an island teeming with people and wealth but were born deaf and blind you would get no elation from power, no feeling of success. You have to see your possessions or the power-producing effect of them. You have to see or hear the power of your authority.
The senses of seeing and hearing mark the beginning of what we term intelligence, which in man includes the faculties of reason and imagination. Without the senses of seeing and hearing imagination is almost totally absent, and without imagination there is no desire for power. For you can only desire what you can imagine.
