May Your Wishes Be Few

Years back, I rode the train home from a long silent meditation retreat with an older man I deeply admired. There’s always an awkwardness after so much silence, but at one point he turned and asked, “So what are you excited about these days?”

The floodgates opened. I told him all about my band, my travels, my girlfriend.

Eventually I realized how long I’d been talking and said, “Sorry, I should ask you. What are you excited about these days?”

He paused and said with a smile, “Basically just the dharma.”

I was horrified. How boring! I vowed never to let my life become that simple.

Twenty years later, though, I see it differently. His life wasn’t boring. He'd simply sifted through his desires until only the essential ones remained. And I, too, have come to see how happiness lies in the slow work of whittling down our wants.

The Buddha often praised the practice of appicchatā, a Pali word that literally means “fewness of wishes.” Desire itself isn’t the problem. The problem is scattering ourselves among too many competing wishes. The Buddha compared our wants to wild animals tied to the same tether, each pulling in a different direction. No wonder we feel so tired all the time!

This is the modern condition. We want meaningful work, but also complete security, unlimited free time, everyone’s approval, and a guarantee we won’t fail. We want a loving relationship, but also freedom from vulnerability, conflict, disappointment, and rejection.

Fewness of wishes doesn’t mean becoming passionless. It means discovering what you truly want deeply enough that lesser impulses fall away. As Rumi said, “You must ask for what you really want.” Not to pray, "May I have much," but rather, "May my wishes be few."

As always, if you’d like to be held through your own process, contact me and we’ll set up a free sample coaching call.

Andrea Merican, "Simplicity"