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Acting on the urge to feel pleasure and the ensuing drive to extract that pleasure, anchoring it within the confines of this body, often fixes the body as the boundary of one’s existence. This fixation is one of the causes of division and conflict.


But there’s a reality to keeping the body alive. So, how do I distinguish between seeking pleasure and simply sustaining life? Or is there no natural division between them, and pleasure, like pain, is just part of the experience of being alive?


I think the division arises from desire. Desire differentiates between the experience of pleasure and pleasure itself, solidifying an identity that mistakenly believes, "I am this body."


But who creates this desire? Who am I? And how are desire and the urge to feel pleasure connected?


These questions point to the core of human experience. The urge for pleasure seems to arise naturally, a part of the body’s innate drive for survival and well-being. Yet, when desire takes hold, it transforms this natural urge into something more complex—an identity-based pursuit that can lead to conflict, both within ourselves and with others.


Desire, in this sense, is not just about the physical sensation of pleasure; it is about the attachment to that sensation, the belief that fulfilling this desire will bring lasting satisfaction. This attachment strengthens the illusion that we are defined by our bodies and the pleasures they seek.


But if we can observe this process, if we can question who it is that desires, perhaps we can start to see beyond the illusion. Perhaps we can find a way to experience pleasure and pain as they are—parts of life—without letting them define who we are.






Spiderman’s love life—his struggle with the person he cares for, always worrying that she would be in harm’s way if they were together—moves me deeply. He is torn between wanting to protect her from the dangers that surround him and missing her presence as a partner. This constant push and pull, the desire to be with someone you love while fearing for their safety, captures the heart-wrenching reality of love entangled with responsibility and sacrifice.


New Year’s Day - 2022


On the first day of the new year, our apartment complex faced a drainage block that connected to the city’s sewer system. Despite the pouring rain, an elderly gentleman, a sanitary worker, worked tirelessly for hours to help us out of the situation. The problem still isn’t fully resolved, but the nature of his work, his struggle, and the resilience of our apartment watchmen, who endured the stench as their station is near the leak, deeply moved me. It left me with a heart full of pain and immense gratitude.


This experience prompted me to delve deeper into the lives of these incredible people. What I discovered broke my heart. In India, it is estimated that three people die every five days due to direct contact with human waste—feces, poisonous gases—while working without any protective gear. These workers are grossly underpaid and, to make matters worse, they carry the stigma of being seen as the lowest in society.


There are initiatives to mechanize this type of cleaning work, but we still have a long way to go to eliminate the needless physical and emotional suffering of these essential members of our society.


For a detailed report on their situation, you can visit:








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