spirituality

There’s Desire Then There’s Desire

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Desire is an issue that many a spiritual path attempt to address, and understandably so. We’ve all been led astray by our desires. We’ve all found a compulsion obsessing us, crowding out other parts of our lives. We’ve all had it hurt to the point where the joy of fulfillment didn’t seem worth it.

Yet at the same time, we’ve all encountered the problems of repression. The shame that comes with people judging us for being human. Attempts to control our behavior that becomes more painful and more disruptive than the desires themselves. There are points where people get concerned about desire and then address it in ways that make it worse.

And at the bottom, doesn’t some of desire seem, well, natural? Why are we fighting it? Why are we obsessing about it? It’s like we’ve found ways to make ourselves more miserable for being human.

In my meditations and mentations I’ve been considering desire lately, and wanted to share a few insights. I think when we talk desire, both in general and in our spiritual practice, we’re often talking very different things.

At the core of desire are our natural feelings. We get hungry, we get horny, we get afraid. They’re natural, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of because they’re part of being human.

They’re also transitory, they come and go, rise and fall, get fulfilled or get forgotten. Desires are like waves on the ocean.

However in time we gain obsessions. When a desire arises, it gets trapped in our obsessions, amplified, and pursued. A single flare that would ignite and go dark is kindled into a bonfire.

In time, we can end up giant, jangling, collections of obsessions. A momentary desire can pinball into all sorts of wants and actions and unwise choices. The most innocent need can become a disaster.

There’s desires then there’s desires. I think most spiritual practices are concerned about the obsessions that trap our simple desires and turn them into something dangerous. For that matter we can become obsessed with fighting desires and create other complexes in our heads and become extra miserable.

These complexes can also set off other desires and thus other complexes! You can start being annoyed at an annoying friend, which sets off your obsession with loneliness, which then sets off another obsession that maybe you’re too judgemental . . . you get the idea.

As of this writing I’ve found this “two-teir” approach helps me a lot. At the base of me are very human needs, emotions, and desires. These come and go, the manifestation of the energies of my being, part of being human.

On top of these entirely natural desires are all sorts of psychological complexes that get set off by these desires, amplify them, and past a certain point, make life complicated. These are where our spiritual disciplines, renunciations, analyses, and meditations usually apply.

Those churning normal energies of our bodies and lives are normal. It’s when things get obsessive and complex, spirals of thoughts and feelings, that we suffer.

I found this a helpful distinction, the “substrate” and the “complications.” The substrate, the basics are what they are – they can even help me get in touch with myself. It’s the complicated obsessions I want to address. It reduces the risk I start judging myself while also acknowledging I’ve got some psychological Rube Goldeberg Devices to deal with.

Hope these thoughts help you as well. And I mean that as a sincere desire.

–Xenofact

Religious Art Without Either

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My own experiments in surrealist art and how art connects with spirituality have graced a few of these pages. Until I started doing my own art I hadn’t given much consideration to art and spirituality – as most of my interest was written work and meditations. Some art inspired me and I did find “project plan” type diagrams like The Six Realms useful, but I hadn’t thought of it until my own work.

But as I started doing art I started viscerally appreciating the power of art and spirituality. I appreciated my own inspirations much better, as I got them. There’s something powerful about art, bridging all those gaps between feelings and ideas, going where words cannot. The hyperdetailed art of the Six Realms of Buddhism, awe-inspiring pictures of gods, hilarious art of the Eight Immortals – all of those can be rationally analyzed and felt.

Just as spirituality connects things together so does art. No wonder they go together – and are really inseparable.

Which is what brings me to religiously kitschy art. You know the kind, the stuff that is standard, pandering, sometimes pseudo-realistic, and where the message is extremely obvious. The kind of stuff that Queen Coke Francis mocked in one of her videos (also she’s just hilarious and here makeup is on point).

Kitschy religious art kind of fascinates me. It feels dead to me. It’s message is obvious, sometimes in the title or spelled out. The look is often cartoony but without that “edge” where the style brings a benefit of inspiration or feeling, or so realistic it might have well been a photo. The kind of stuff AI churns out because so many people churned it out. I mean I’m talking still work, but I suppose it applies to media like TV.

I always wondered why people would enjoy this art because there’s nothing there. There’s no inspiration to it, nothing to fire you up or inspire you. There’s nothing stylized, no edge to the art to catch on your mind and make you think. It’s just so simple . . .

. . . and then I realized that’s the point.


Kitschy religious art is not about helping you feel or get inspired or go deeper.. It’s about reinforcing what you’re supposed to feel and what others want you to think and feel. In most cases I think about signaling, showing who you are and what you think, it’s not there to help you you think anything deeper.

Which is the point.

In fact, this”art” has to be short of any detail, any extra, any edge. If you take any liberties, get a bit stylish, etc. you risk inspiring people. Anything playful, any attempts to be really artsy risks getting people to feel something, to speculate, to feel something. Kitschy religious art has to avoid any risk because for all you know it might actually do something for you. No wonder so much of it is simple.

Of course this leads me to wonder how kitsch can be used to conceal inspiration or how one might inspire people to put a bit more into their kitsch that may produce deeper thoughts . . .

–Xenofact

Room For The Mystic

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I have a book on my reading pile that I really need to get to, Alchemists, Mediums, and Magicians: Stories of Taoist Mystics by Thomas Cleary. It a catalog of assorted Taoist eccentrics, mystics, artists, and so on. It’s strange that I haven’t rushed to read what is basically “character study of characters” but there you go.

I have poked around in it, delighting at some of the stories. It also made me think about other Taoist figures, from the legendary immortals to 18th century doctor and mystic Liu Yiming (who apparently predicted his own death). Taoism has a legion of artists, mystics, sorcerers and other impressive weirdos throughout its history.

I suppose it’s no surprise I feel at home among this cast.

This got me to think about how many of these tales are about people who wrote great treatises, explored mystical states, founded orders, created poetry, and are noteworthy centuries and aeons later. They did this without the internet, without social media, without megachurches – many of them seemed to oddly not care about fame but achieved it anyway.

Even more obscure figures may still appear in historical documents – or in the book like the one I mentioned.

As I write this in 2025 I think about how we’re pushed to monetize everything – and avoid things that don’t make us money. We’ve got example after example of spiritual grifters to tempt us to start monetizing videos. Why can’t we just be religious weirdos?

We also don’t really encourage people to really live their religion. Our own religious pursuits are “fine and good” but you know, don’t take it too far. If you’re gonna be weird at least be religiously obsessive in the right way.

Oh, and to be sure don’t be religious in a way that makes the world better. We’re fine with homophobia and war-mongering, but don’t you dare tell us to care about each other! And be sure you never denounce the system or anything!

We don’t really have place to just be some spiritual weirdo in American culture, and we need those.

We need the eccentrics who contemplate the strange and discuss it, and that’s fine. We need people who produce zines (ahem) to spread their thoughts obsessively. We need to have room culturally for someone dispensing wisdom fro their front porch. We need people who live their spiritual practices.

We need people whose mystical meanderings may lead us to something. Let society have it’s spiritual Skunkworks.

Besides, if we had more people really thinking about the Big Ideas, we’d have less cults and megachurches. If we accepted the idea of a spiritual quest as fine, acceptable, and laudable who knows what we might have. Especially if we don’t encourage people to make a buck first.

I suppose I’m doing my part. It makes me wonder what happens if more and more of we weirdos live sincerely and team up. It also makes me wonder if maybe I’ve got some inhibitions I’m best without . . .