Inquiry into Desire and Ill Will
The initial discovery that there is no ego or separate “self”, though significant, is the beginning of the spiritual “path” or process: where to go next may not be clear. In the Buddhist tradition, the next step has to do with what we want and don’t want, and why we suffer as a result. In terms of the fetters approach, that means looking at the fetters of desire and ill will, and why we react when things aren’t as we would like them to be. The terms “desire” and “ill will” are used as placeholders for why we react.
Rather than accepting what is happening right now, and responding constructively, we often push and pull at what is happening. It might feel as though what is happening shouldn’t be that way, or it may seem as though we are entitled to a different version of what is happening. That isn’t to say that we can’t or shouldn’t respond to and engage with the people and situations in our life to bring about more positive results. However, as we do so, there can be a profound level of resistance and even resentment that things are the way they are right now. This resistance and even resentment is basically why we suffer at a psychological and emotional level, in that there arises the anxiety, fear, envy, frustration, longing, mental anguish and the host of other responses we generally never want to experience. That collection of responses can also inhibit or even prevent us from being able to constructively engage.
The good news is that we can explore and eradicate desire and ill will because, rather than being actual “things” we have or are, desire and ill will are every bit as illusory as the ego or separate “self” of the first fetter. Just like the separate “self”, desire and ill will are beliefs: we believe there is something about us that responds to and interprets what is happening, and necessarily leads to the push and pull of reactions.
One way to talk about the fetters of desire and ill will is that they are another form of what we might call “selfing”, or a self-referent way of looking at the world. The tendency is to assume there is someone or something “in here somewhere” which is involved in experience. The grossest fetter we develop is that of the separate “self” or ego: we believe that there is a separate and enduring person that goes by our name “in here somewhere” that is both the agent and experiencer of everything that happens in our lives. Desire and ill will are simply the next more subtle layer of “selfing”, which in terms of the fetters model doesn’t stop until the eighth fetter, when we finally rid ourselves of the illusion that “I Exist” at all. Until then, there will still be an underlying sense of a “me” that is “in here”.
What exactly are desire and ill will? Desire is basically the “I want!” response to life, the tendency to pull certain aspects of sensory experience towards us, in the belief that it will make us happy. It could be food, sex, a relationship, a job, a new mobile phone, and so forth. It’s wanting something we don’t have, or wanting to hang onto or have more of something we already do have.
Ill will, on the other hand, might be described as the “I don’t want!” response, and the tendency to push experience away. It is focused on the people and situations which we cannot accept or otherwise don’t want in our lives, again because we believe this pushing will lead to happiness. We might not actually wish others harm, but there can be frustration, anger and resentment that arise nonetheless.
Once the illusion of the separate self or ego disappears, desire and ill will are not even weakened, but are still going at full strength. There can be expectations as to how amazing and joyful life will be upon seeing through the illusion of the separate self, and life generally can be easier and more joyful. However, the push and pull at what is happening may actually be more noticeable, and no longer regulated by the superimposed self or ego that once served as something of a governor or distraction. In other words, even without a separate self, “selfishness” is still happening, and suffering is still happening. We can perhaps understand how it is we believed there was an ego or separate self that was behind all of that pushing and pulling.
Finding the Gap
In the Buddhist tradition, one way of describing what happens when we react is in terms of the “gap” between sensations and reacting. If we are alive, there will always be something happening in sensory experience, as well as physical sensations of some sort arising. Sensations are what simply happen: they are the natural and unavoidable outcome of being alive. At the physical level, it’s how we basically feel about what is happening, and such sensations can be pleasant, unpleasant and neutral. The more unpleasant the sensations are, the more likely that the push and pull of reaction will start up. For example, if we hit our thumb with a hammer, it might be an understatement to say that “unpleasant” sensations are the result - it can really hurt! The same applies with receiving bad news, being criticized, or someone around falling ill - some things will simply never feel good when they occur.
There is an inherent “gap” between sensation and any push/pull reactive responses. There is of course a slight delay in time in the arising of sensations themselves, based on how our neurological system is wired: nothing occurs instantaneously, even if only delayed by a few hundred milliseconds. However, there can also be a gap in time in terms of not reacting right away to situations and the sensations that arise, but taking a little time to see more clearly what is really happening. Until we discover this, we typically jump from sensation (our natural response to what is happening) to full-on reaction without even questioning whether there could be any alternative response, much less a gap prior to reacting.
And yet, there can be such a gap, in which we can simply experience and “be with” whatever thoughts and sensations arise, even if it takes some time to get used to being in that gap. The gap is usually quite uncomfortable - it just doesn’t feel good to be there, and it is understandable that we tend to want to leave it as soon as possible. In practical terms, that means that as soon as we start feeling discomfort in the body, we tend to quickly do something to avoid those feelings, even if what we do ends up making us feel worse.
Because it is generally uncomfortable, “being in the gap” is something of an acquired taste, and at first it may seem impossible to stay with the initial sensations that arise, and the thoughts that tell us to “do something… anything!” about it. Alternatively, even if we are feeling quite good, the tendency can nevertheless be to react by doing something that will hopefully prolong and even enhance our current experience - the mere thought of things changing can be unpleasant. Whether we push or pull at what is currently happening, the thoughts, memories and ideas about what we should do about it can quickly arise, and often we “take the bait” on the first option available in order to no longer be in the gap. What might be called “crossing the gap” is therefore consciously or unconsciously following what seems to be a proper and even inevitable urge to react, by which we end up on the other side of the gap.
If instead we are able to pause when sensations and thoughts of whatever sort arise, we can look around (maybe only for a few seconds at first) and see if there really is a reason we have to cross the gap, and thus a reason to react. Desire and ill will are placeholders for that reason, in that they ostensibly bridge the gap. They are the “things” which we presume reside inside of us, by which our reactions naturally and even necessarily occur. They are the reason or mechanism by which we get angry or frustrated, or develop jealousy and longing. You could call this reason or mechanism something else, but it would come down to the same thing: there seems to be something about us that rises up to meet experience, and influences or even decides how we should respond and indeed react. In that regard, it’s no different from the separate “self” that is (or was) also assumed to be “in here somewhere”.
The suggested approach is therefore essentially the approach often used in “direct pointing” in relation to the separate “self”. In that case, it could be described as stopping short of simply concluding there is a self, as ostensibly “proven” by what is happening, and see if that is actually the case. There can indeed be a gap between what is happening, such as simply raising our right hand, and the habitual conclusion that there is a “self”, the agent that is causing and doing the raising of the hand.
With desire and ill will, we conclude that there is something inside of us that compels us to react. It can seem as though a button is pushed, some sort of program, circuity or machinery starts up, or a trigger gets pulled. For example, if we often get upset when hearing about what is happening in government, it might seem as though our “politics button” gets pushed every time we read the news. Such a button will of course not show up on an x-ray, and yet it can nevertheless be an almost tangible “thing” that seems to exist, thus it is something to look for.
As with looking directly at or for the separate "self", direct pointing can be an expedient way to see if there really is something “in here somewhere” that makes reacting necessary. If we don’t find it, this can lead to experiential certainty that there is no such thing as “desire” or “ill will” by which any push/pull response to experience is dictated, thus no reason to behave as if that were the case, regardless of how we feel. If we didn’t want our experience to be any different than it is right now, we would have no reason to react. Put another way, if the illusion of desire and ill will were eradicated, reactivity wouldn’t arise: the gap would never be bridged.
Seeing there is no reason to react may not seem like such a big realization, at least at the logical level. However, it may be helpful to recall the changes that result from seeing through the illusion of “self”. And as with the “self”, even if you agree desire is illusory, if you don’t gain direct experiential certainty of it, you will be in the same situation as the case where you agree that logically the “self” doesn’t exist but the illusion nevertheless persists.
Coming out the other end of the desire and ill will, you will no longer insist that what is happening around you to be anything other than it is. It’s not that you will be indifferent or a pushover: anything but. However, while things always could be a certain way, there will no longer be a self-referent insistence that things should be a certain way, by which you can constructively work with whatever and whoever is before you. As a result of not fighting or resisting what is happening, suffering (at least as you currently know it) can largely cease.
Rather than accepting what is happening right now, and responding constructively, we often push and pull at what is happening. It might feel as though what is happening shouldn’t be that way, or it may seem as though we are entitled to a different version of what is happening. That isn’t to say that we can’t or shouldn’t respond to and engage with the people and situations in our life to bring about more positive results. However, as we do so, there can be a profound level of resistance and even resentment that things are the way they are right now. This resistance and even resentment is basically why we suffer at a psychological and emotional level, in that there arises the anxiety, fear, envy, frustration, longing, mental anguish and the host of other responses we generally never want to experience. That collection of responses can also inhibit or even prevent us from being able to constructively engage.
The good news is that we can explore and eradicate desire and ill will because, rather than being actual “things” we have or are, desire and ill will are every bit as illusory as the ego or separate “self” of the first fetter. Just like the separate “self”, desire and ill will are beliefs: we believe there is something about us that responds to and interprets what is happening, and necessarily leads to the push and pull of reactions.
One way to talk about the fetters of desire and ill will is that they are another form of what we might call “selfing”, or a self-referent way of looking at the world. The tendency is to assume there is someone or something “in here somewhere” which is involved in experience. The grossest fetter we develop is that of the separate “self” or ego: we believe that there is a separate and enduring person that goes by our name “in here somewhere” that is both the agent and experiencer of everything that happens in our lives. Desire and ill will are simply the next more subtle layer of “selfing”, which in terms of the fetters model doesn’t stop until the eighth fetter, when we finally rid ourselves of the illusion that “I Exist” at all. Until then, there will still be an underlying sense of a “me” that is “in here”.
What exactly are desire and ill will? Desire is basically the “I want!” response to life, the tendency to pull certain aspects of sensory experience towards us, in the belief that it will make us happy. It could be food, sex, a relationship, a job, a new mobile phone, and so forth. It’s wanting something we don’t have, or wanting to hang onto or have more of something we already do have.
Ill will, on the other hand, might be described as the “I don’t want!” response, and the tendency to push experience away. It is focused on the people and situations which we cannot accept or otherwise don’t want in our lives, again because we believe this pushing will lead to happiness. We might not actually wish others harm, but there can be frustration, anger and resentment that arise nonetheless.
Once the illusion of the separate self or ego disappears, desire and ill will are not even weakened, but are still going at full strength. There can be expectations as to how amazing and joyful life will be upon seeing through the illusion of the separate self, and life generally can be easier and more joyful. However, the push and pull at what is happening may actually be more noticeable, and no longer regulated by the superimposed self or ego that once served as something of a governor or distraction. In other words, even without a separate self, “selfishness” is still happening, and suffering is still happening. We can perhaps understand how it is we believed there was an ego or separate self that was behind all of that pushing and pulling.
Finding the Gap
In the Buddhist tradition, one way of describing what happens when we react is in terms of the “gap” between sensations and reacting. If we are alive, there will always be something happening in sensory experience, as well as physical sensations of some sort arising. Sensations are what simply happen: they are the natural and unavoidable outcome of being alive. At the physical level, it’s how we basically feel about what is happening, and such sensations can be pleasant, unpleasant and neutral. The more unpleasant the sensations are, the more likely that the push and pull of reaction will start up. For example, if we hit our thumb with a hammer, it might be an understatement to say that “unpleasant” sensations are the result - it can really hurt! The same applies with receiving bad news, being criticized, or someone around falling ill - some things will simply never feel good when they occur.
There is an inherent “gap” between sensation and any push/pull reactive responses. There is of course a slight delay in time in the arising of sensations themselves, based on how our neurological system is wired: nothing occurs instantaneously, even if only delayed by a few hundred milliseconds. However, there can also be a gap in time in terms of not reacting right away to situations and the sensations that arise, but taking a little time to see more clearly what is really happening. Until we discover this, we typically jump from sensation (our natural response to what is happening) to full-on reaction without even questioning whether there could be any alternative response, much less a gap prior to reacting.
And yet, there can be such a gap, in which we can simply experience and “be with” whatever thoughts and sensations arise, even if it takes some time to get used to being in that gap. The gap is usually quite uncomfortable - it just doesn’t feel good to be there, and it is understandable that we tend to want to leave it as soon as possible. In practical terms, that means that as soon as we start feeling discomfort in the body, we tend to quickly do something to avoid those feelings, even if what we do ends up making us feel worse.
Because it is generally uncomfortable, “being in the gap” is something of an acquired taste, and at first it may seem impossible to stay with the initial sensations that arise, and the thoughts that tell us to “do something… anything!” about it. Alternatively, even if we are feeling quite good, the tendency can nevertheless be to react by doing something that will hopefully prolong and even enhance our current experience - the mere thought of things changing can be unpleasant. Whether we push or pull at what is currently happening, the thoughts, memories and ideas about what we should do about it can quickly arise, and often we “take the bait” on the first option available in order to no longer be in the gap. What might be called “crossing the gap” is therefore consciously or unconsciously following what seems to be a proper and even inevitable urge to react, by which we end up on the other side of the gap.
If instead we are able to pause when sensations and thoughts of whatever sort arise, we can look around (maybe only for a few seconds at first) and see if there really is a reason we have to cross the gap, and thus a reason to react. Desire and ill will are placeholders for that reason, in that they ostensibly bridge the gap. They are the “things” which we presume reside inside of us, by which our reactions naturally and even necessarily occur. They are the reason or mechanism by which we get angry or frustrated, or develop jealousy and longing. You could call this reason or mechanism something else, but it would come down to the same thing: there seems to be something about us that rises up to meet experience, and influences or even decides how we should respond and indeed react. In that regard, it’s no different from the separate “self” that is (or was) also assumed to be “in here somewhere”.
The suggested approach is therefore essentially the approach often used in “direct pointing” in relation to the separate “self”. In that case, it could be described as stopping short of simply concluding there is a self, as ostensibly “proven” by what is happening, and see if that is actually the case. There can indeed be a gap between what is happening, such as simply raising our right hand, and the habitual conclusion that there is a “self”, the agent that is causing and doing the raising of the hand.
With desire and ill will, we conclude that there is something inside of us that compels us to react. It can seem as though a button is pushed, some sort of program, circuity or machinery starts up, or a trigger gets pulled. For example, if we often get upset when hearing about what is happening in government, it might seem as though our “politics button” gets pushed every time we read the news. Such a button will of course not show up on an x-ray, and yet it can nevertheless be an almost tangible “thing” that seems to exist, thus it is something to look for.
As with looking directly at or for the separate "self", direct pointing can be an expedient way to see if there really is something “in here somewhere” that makes reacting necessary. If we don’t find it, this can lead to experiential certainty that there is no such thing as “desire” or “ill will” by which any push/pull response to experience is dictated, thus no reason to behave as if that were the case, regardless of how we feel. If we didn’t want our experience to be any different than it is right now, we would have no reason to react. Put another way, if the illusion of desire and ill will were eradicated, reactivity wouldn’t arise: the gap would never be bridged.
Seeing there is no reason to react may not seem like such a big realization, at least at the logical level. However, it may be helpful to recall the changes that result from seeing through the illusion of “self”. And as with the “self”, even if you agree desire is illusory, if you don’t gain direct experiential certainty of it, you will be in the same situation as the case where you agree that logically the “self” doesn’t exist but the illusion nevertheless persists.
Coming out the other end of the desire and ill will, you will no longer insist that what is happening around you to be anything other than it is. It’s not that you will be indifferent or a pushover: anything but. However, while things always could be a certain way, there will no longer be a self-referent insistence that things should be a certain way, by which you can constructively work with whatever and whoever is before you. As a result of not fighting or resisting what is happening, suffering (at least as you currently know it) can largely cease.
In terms of inquiry, there are some significant differences between the separate self (as the first fetter) and desire and ill will. The separate self or ego was/is one particular thing, thus fairly easily to notice, whereas desire and ill will manifest in a myriad of ways, therefore can be more difficult to pin down. They are also more deeply embedded and often quite subtle, and the thoughts and feelings associated with desire and ill will can easily distract from looking with precision. Since desire and ill will are so deeply embedded, they are generally first noticeably weakened, then broken.
That desire and ill will can be weakened and broken shows that they aren’t real “things”, any more than the separate self or ego is. Desire and ill will are illusions, “things” we made up, as are all of the fetters. Of course, like the separate self, they are also very convincing illusions, in that the multitude of ways in which we push and pull seems to attest to the existence of desire and ill will.
Weakening
What does it mean to “weaken” desire and ill will? If desire and ill will are weakened, reactive states and the push and pull of resistance are slower to rise, reach a more modest peak, and then quickly dissipate. It can feel like you have a non-stick coating, as with a frying pan; reactions still arise, even some very familiar and difficult reactions, but nothing sticks like it used to. Reactions that used to linger for an hour, day or week can pass through in minutes or seconds. Fear, anxiety and other emotions are much less part of life.
As a result, there can be a sense of freedom, and of emotional and even physical space around people and situations that previously would elicit one reaction after another. Put another way, there can be a “gap” between what it seems we should do, and what it is we actually do.
It can be surprisingly obvious when this weakening occurs, perhaps like when a bad flu first breaks. There are still lots of symptoms, and you still may not feel very good, but something has obviously changed: something that was there before no longer is, at least to the extent it used to be. It’s also an irreversible change: you might throw something of a fit now and again, but it doesn’t have the same intensity or duration that it once did.
Since the push and pull are nowhere near what they once were, there is a significant decrease in suffering. In a way, it’s a matter of being able to say “so what?” when, for example, someone cuts you off in traffic. It doesn’t mean you allow yourself to get into an accident, but as you are deftly changing lanes, there can be much less anger or frustration boiling up, and whatever does arise quickly passes. It’s also not a matter of pushing disturbing emotions away, but seeing clearly that there’s nothing behind them, thus allowing them to rise and pass without building them up into anything more substantial.
It’s also not a cold or indifferent attitude, but rather the opposite: there is much less getting in the way of the altruistic responses that naturally arise. Compassion that may have been somewhat forced or conflicted is now more spontaneous, because it’s even less about what you personally want.
Breaking
When desire and ill will are “broken”, it essentially finishes the job that was started with weakening. The gap between sensation and reaction is no longer bridged as it were: the illusion is dispelled that there is anything “in here” which calls for a reaction of pushing and pulling. We fully and finally see that desire and ill will do not exist, and never have. In fact, since reactions no longer arise in response to what is happening, there technically isn’t a “gap” at all any longer.
As is often the case when the illusion of the ego falls, it’s clear that the truth has been right in front of us all the time, waiting to be seen. As a result, desire for things like food, money, sex, power, privilege: you name it, it simply falls away. Chocolate becomes… optional! It doesn’t mean we, for example, starve because we aren’t interested in food, or stop having sex; rather, they just aren’t drivers like they once were. The Buddhist tradition describes this as the stage of no longer being conquered by sensory experience.
In terms of responding more ethically or morally to the world around us, this becomes more intuitive or automatic, although we are by no means “perfect” at this or any point. For example, truly harsh speech doesn’t arise, because the anger or frustration behind such speech no longer arises, but that doesn’t mean that people won’t still be hurt now and again by what we say. It doesn’t mean that we no longer respond to the world around us: anything but. However, there is no more element of “but I want this…” or “but I don’t want that…”, and no longer any insistence that things should be different than they are.
Because the push and pull of reactivity no longer arise, suffering as we generally know it no longer arises either. There is no more anger or lust, or even irritation or a sense of longing. There can thus be a pervasive element of joy, perhaps especially at first when the release from this type of conditioning is realized. A profound sense of fearlessness can also arise, in that there isn’t any real concern over what will happen next, even though we may still be very much interested. Without wanting other people and things to be anything other than they currently are, there is no reason for fear to arise. Along with this lack of fear and anxiety is a physical calm and ease: the tension that once filled our body no longer manifests.
The running narrative that might normally fill our waking hours to one extent or another is likely to be dramatically reduced, if not eliminated. One part of the Buddhist tradition describes this stage as that of non-conceptuality, whereby we transcend the perceived need to think our way through life. In terms of meditation practice, without this dominant narrative, there is also ready access to the jhānas and higher meditative states. As such, what might be described as a great silence can descend.
Also, the metta bhāvana or “development of loving kindness” meditation practice is more a way of life than a cultivated “state” or practice. There is no more hatred for loving kindness to counteract, and altruistic responses to the world now have even less of an obstacle. It’s not like something called “altruism” is cultivated and grows, but rather there is a much more spontaneous response based on the altruistic instincts that naturally arise. It’s as if we step out of the way of the altruistic responses that naturally arise.
As with when the illusion of a separate self or ego evaporates, we already know how to get on with this new perspective. In the case of the ego or self, there can be the fear that we will turn into a zombie, even though others obviously didn’t have that problem. In the case of desire and ill will, there might be a fear of losing all emotional engagement with life, of becoming insensitive to the people and situations in our life, or that life will become dull and inert. And yet, we still engage with life, often much more deeply, and in a more productive and satisfying way, because we no longer have to cater to erroneous ideas about what “should” be happening. The drama of getting involved in difficult situations, and the roller coaster of emotions that can produce, is instead replaced by equanimity.
As an analogy, consider a computer on which there are several applications running at the same time: the ego app, the desire and ill will app, the duality app, and so forth. If one of the apps is malfunctioning and is then closed, the remaining apps will still be running, ready to engage in whatever data comes their way, and in fact function better without the “resource hog” app that was just closed. Similarly, we already know how to get along without our various illusions, even though it may take a while to integrate and settle into this new perspective.
That desire and ill will can be weakened and broken shows that they aren’t real “things”, any more than the separate self or ego is. Desire and ill will are illusions, “things” we made up, as are all of the fetters. Of course, like the separate self, they are also very convincing illusions, in that the multitude of ways in which we push and pull seems to attest to the existence of desire and ill will.
Weakening
What does it mean to “weaken” desire and ill will? If desire and ill will are weakened, reactive states and the push and pull of resistance are slower to rise, reach a more modest peak, and then quickly dissipate. It can feel like you have a non-stick coating, as with a frying pan; reactions still arise, even some very familiar and difficult reactions, but nothing sticks like it used to. Reactions that used to linger for an hour, day or week can pass through in minutes or seconds. Fear, anxiety and other emotions are much less part of life.
As a result, there can be a sense of freedom, and of emotional and even physical space around people and situations that previously would elicit one reaction after another. Put another way, there can be a “gap” between what it seems we should do, and what it is we actually do.
It can be surprisingly obvious when this weakening occurs, perhaps like when a bad flu first breaks. There are still lots of symptoms, and you still may not feel very good, but something has obviously changed: something that was there before no longer is, at least to the extent it used to be. It’s also an irreversible change: you might throw something of a fit now and again, but it doesn’t have the same intensity or duration that it once did.
Since the push and pull are nowhere near what they once were, there is a significant decrease in suffering. In a way, it’s a matter of being able to say “so what?” when, for example, someone cuts you off in traffic. It doesn’t mean you allow yourself to get into an accident, but as you are deftly changing lanes, there can be much less anger or frustration boiling up, and whatever does arise quickly passes. It’s also not a matter of pushing disturbing emotions away, but seeing clearly that there’s nothing behind them, thus allowing them to rise and pass without building them up into anything more substantial.
It’s also not a cold or indifferent attitude, but rather the opposite: there is much less getting in the way of the altruistic responses that naturally arise. Compassion that may have been somewhat forced or conflicted is now more spontaneous, because it’s even less about what you personally want.
Breaking
When desire and ill will are “broken”, it essentially finishes the job that was started with weakening. The gap between sensation and reaction is no longer bridged as it were: the illusion is dispelled that there is anything “in here” which calls for a reaction of pushing and pulling. We fully and finally see that desire and ill will do not exist, and never have. In fact, since reactions no longer arise in response to what is happening, there technically isn’t a “gap” at all any longer.
As is often the case when the illusion of the ego falls, it’s clear that the truth has been right in front of us all the time, waiting to be seen. As a result, desire for things like food, money, sex, power, privilege: you name it, it simply falls away. Chocolate becomes… optional! It doesn’t mean we, for example, starve because we aren’t interested in food, or stop having sex; rather, they just aren’t drivers like they once were. The Buddhist tradition describes this as the stage of no longer being conquered by sensory experience.
In terms of responding more ethically or morally to the world around us, this becomes more intuitive or automatic, although we are by no means “perfect” at this or any point. For example, truly harsh speech doesn’t arise, because the anger or frustration behind such speech no longer arises, but that doesn’t mean that people won’t still be hurt now and again by what we say. It doesn’t mean that we no longer respond to the world around us: anything but. However, there is no more element of “but I want this…” or “but I don’t want that…”, and no longer any insistence that things should be different than they are.
Because the push and pull of reactivity no longer arise, suffering as we generally know it no longer arises either. There is no more anger or lust, or even irritation or a sense of longing. There can thus be a pervasive element of joy, perhaps especially at first when the release from this type of conditioning is realized. A profound sense of fearlessness can also arise, in that there isn’t any real concern over what will happen next, even though we may still be very much interested. Without wanting other people and things to be anything other than they currently are, there is no reason for fear to arise. Along with this lack of fear and anxiety is a physical calm and ease: the tension that once filled our body no longer manifests.
The running narrative that might normally fill our waking hours to one extent or another is likely to be dramatically reduced, if not eliminated. One part of the Buddhist tradition describes this stage as that of non-conceptuality, whereby we transcend the perceived need to think our way through life. In terms of meditation practice, without this dominant narrative, there is also ready access to the jhānas and higher meditative states. As such, what might be described as a great silence can descend.
Also, the metta bhāvana or “development of loving kindness” meditation practice is more a way of life than a cultivated “state” or practice. There is no more hatred for loving kindness to counteract, and altruistic responses to the world now have even less of an obstacle. It’s not like something called “altruism” is cultivated and grows, but rather there is a much more spontaneous response based on the altruistic instincts that naturally arise. It’s as if we step out of the way of the altruistic responses that naturally arise.
As with when the illusion of a separate self or ego evaporates, we already know how to get on with this new perspective. In the case of the ego or self, there can be the fear that we will turn into a zombie, even though others obviously didn’t have that problem. In the case of desire and ill will, there might be a fear of losing all emotional engagement with life, of becoming insensitive to the people and situations in our life, or that life will become dull and inert. And yet, we still engage with life, often much more deeply, and in a more productive and satisfying way, because we no longer have to cater to erroneous ideas about what “should” be happening. The drama of getting involved in difficult situations, and the roller coaster of emotions that can produce, is instead replaced by equanimity.
As an analogy, consider a computer on which there are several applications running at the same time: the ego app, the desire and ill will app, the duality app, and so forth. If one of the apps is malfunctioning and is then closed, the remaining apps will still be running, ready to engage in whatever data comes their way, and in fact function better without the “resource hog” app that was just closed. Similarly, we already know how to get along without our various illusions, even though it may take a while to integrate and settle into this new perspective.