Desire: When Wanting Takes Over the Room

Desire doesn’t always look like craving; often, it just looks like trying too hard.

"Desire doesn’t announce itself as craving. It announces itself as trying." Vita Pires

Years ago, I taught a mindfulness class where everything appeared fine on the surface. People were showing up. They were sitting quietly. No one was disruptive. And yet something felt off. The room had a strained politeness to it, as if everyone was holding their breath. After a few weeks, one participant finally said out loud what I had been sensing but hadn’t named: “I feel like I’m trying really hard to do this right, and it’s exhausting.”

That sentence cracked the room open.

How Desire Shows Up as 'Trying'

What was happening wasn’t subtle, advanced, or mysterious. It was desire. Plain, ordinary wanting. Wanting to be calm, wanting to be a good meditator, and wanting mindfulness to work. And underneath that, wanting some relief from a life that felt overwhelming. No one was doing anything wrong. They were doing exactly what human minds do when we care.

The problem starts when desire quietly tightens the field and no one names it.

Desire often shows up in mindfulness classes as a strained effort. You can see it in the way people sit too upright, in the way they check in after practice with a hint of apology, or in the questions that sound like, “Was I supposed to feel something different?” Desire doesn’t announce itself as craving. It announces itself as trying.

As teachers, we feel it too. We want the class to go well. We want people to benefit. We want to offer something meaningful. Sometimes we want affirmation that what we’re doing matters. Again, none of this is a problem. The problem starts when desire quietly tightens the field and no one names it.

In that class, instead of explaining desire as a hindrance or quoting any teachings, I asked a simple question. I asked everyone to reflect on what they hoped mindfulness would bring them. Not in an abstract way, but right now, in their bodies. What were they leaning toward? What were they trying to get away from?

Shifting the Energy in the Room

The shift was immediate. People’s shoulders dropped. A few laughed in recognition. Someone said, “I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on myself.” Another said, “I’m realizing I’m using meditation the same way I use everything else — trying to fix myself.”

That’s often the turning point with desire. Not when it disappears, but when it becomes visible. When wanting is seen, it loosens. Students stop practicing mindfulness and start relating to their experiences instead.

"Mindfulness stops being something they do to get somewhere else and becomes a way of being with what’s already here."

The Teacher’s Perspective: Recognizing Our Own Urgency 

As teachers, this is a delicate place. We don’t want to shame desire or suggest that people shouldn’t want relief. We also don’t want to reinforce the idea that mindfulness is something you succeed or fail at. The practice lives right in the tension between caring and gripping.

When I notice desire in myself while teaching, it typically manifests as a subtle urgency. I talk more. I explain more. I start trying to guide the room toward a specific topic. That’s my cue to pause. To feel my own body. To ask myself what I’m actually trusting in this moment — my need for things to go a certain way, or the practice itself.

Conclusion: Letting Desire Soften

With students, working with desire often means slowing down rather than adding more instruction. It means inviting curiosity about the wanting itself. What does wanting feel like when it’s not judged? Where does it live in the body? What happens when it’s allowed to be there without being fed or fought?

Over time, students begin to recognize desire not as a mistake, but as a familiar companion. They see how it shapes not just their meditation, but their relationships, their work, and their conflicts. Mindfulness stops being something they do to get somewhere else and becomes a way of being with what’s already here.

Desire doesn’t go away because we understand it. It softens because we stop being run by it. And that, quietly, changes everything about how a room feels.

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This is part 2 of a 6-part series on the hindrances. Subsequent articles will be published on Fridays, so check back next week to read a deep dive on Aversion.

If you are interested in gaining a more comprehensive understanding of meditation, mindfulness, and how to share these practices with others, consider our Mindfulness Teacher Training (MTT).