The key to unlocking our right and ability to embrace wanting is to understand what holds us back.

About five months ago, I made one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made and hired a life coach.

My life coach, Teya, is part therapist, part friend, part mentor, part cheerleader, and part (of course) coach.

This week, she said something so remarkable – I mean, she does that every week, but this week in particular I was just amazed that I’d never picked up on the subtle dangers of “wanting” before now.

She said, and I quote, “It is vulnerable to want things.”

She was speaking to my oft-expressed fear of late that I am not sure what I want.

I am often quite sure of what I don’t want (noisy neighbors, bird poop on the shirt I had planned to wear out later, having to wake up early) but I almost never feel as sure about what I do want.

Even trying to write out lists of what I don’t want, and then reverse them to discover what I do want (quiet neighbors, a clean shirt, sleeping in) often doesn’t really quite do it for me, because rarely do I believe those things are possible, given my history (congested neighborhood, a 10-year old continually pooping bird, a work schedule that interferes with sleep).

So when Teya said what she said about vulnerability being a natural part of admitting to a want, it all snapped into place.

It is easy to admit to what I don’t want, mainly because at the time I realize I don’t want it, it is also at that moment already taking place. I already have it, therefore there is no vulnerability in wanting it, or in not wanting it. My very rejection of it comes about because it is happening and I want it to stop happening.

In the same way, it is not easy to admit to what I do want, because at the time I realize I want it, it is usually either because I am witnessing someone else who does have it who seems happier than I am, or because I want it but truly believe I will never get it, so it feels pointless to want what I don’t believe I can ever have.

There is a lot of vulnerability in envy….and in hopelessness.

Wants are also quite different in the scope of vulnerability from needs.

Needs are essentials – like air, nourishment, sleep, safe shelter. If we don’t get our needs met, we can die. So needs don’t exist in that curiously grey area of potentially improving our quality of life or personal happiness but not harming us if they go unmet, and are thus immune from the peculiar vulnerability of the want level.

This is why, Teya explained, it can be helpful to practice wanting the small stuff before we move on to the bigger things.

For instance, wanting to pet my bird’s soft neck feathers is a safe small want to practice on. Even better, it is a mutual want – my bird enjoys getting her nightly non-essential but quite enjoyable “neck scratches”, and will often screech noisily if I forget to offer them.

Wanting to sleep in an extra 15 minutes, put on the heater, eat a bite of fine dark chocolate, or go for a walk are also all safe small wants.

As I practice – with childlike openness and curiosity – wanting the small things, noticing why I want them, how they make me feel, what sounds fun about getting them, it becomes not so important if I want them for a moment or a lifetime, or even if I ever get them or not.

What matters most is that I acknowledge to myself, for myself, in honor of myself, that in that particular moment, I wanted that thing. And if it is small and easy, that I gave it to myself right in that very moment when I want it.

Whether you are applying this lesson to recovery, to relationships, to work, to your studies, or to other areas of life, cultivating an understanding and experience of the very singular and peculiar vulnerability of wanting can open up new vistas of self-connection, possibility, and hopeFULness for you on your journey.

Today’s Takeaway: Where have you been struggling to admit your own wants to yourself? What frightens you about wanting, if anything? What small wants can you start to acknowledge, and meet, that may pave the way towards the bigger wants that as of yet still feel out of reach – or even impossible?

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    Last reviewed: 11 Jan 2012