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I've begun to feel an intense restlessness. I feel it most acutely when I'm not busy, and so I stay busy.

Why do I feel this way? What is the source of this restlessness? I don't know; I don't understand myself. But when I attempt to consider myself from the outside, as it were, certain possibilities occur to me. I'm 49. I'm divorced. My father has Lewy body dementia; the effects are now severe. I desire a certain thing more than I've ever desired anything before, but it seems that I cannot have it.

    I suspect that, of the four, the last is the most potent.

    I cannot change any of the four. So I know of nothing I could do to curb the intensity of my restlessness.

    Desire can be resolved in two ways: achieve what is desired, or destroy the desire. Aurelius would no doubt recommend that I do the latter. But I have no desire to destroy my desire. Instead I desire to have the desire, and the intensity of that desire equals the intensity of the desire that is its object.

    Conclusion: I will suffer.

    This post first appeared on The Philosophical Midwife, please read the originial post: here

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