Some desires are masks; they look like destiny until you’re close enough to see what’s behind it. And some of your desires will be portals and lead to transmutation and paths you never thought could exist.
Why we chase the wrong things (and love it)
- Identity theater. Wanting can feel like becoming. Saying “I’m the kind of person who ___” gives a dopamine hit that fakes progress.
- Borrowed cravings. Family, friends, feeds—half our goals were imported without consent.
- Shiny-object anesthesia. A new pursuit keeps us from asking harder questions. It’s easier to plan a thing than to plan a life.
- Completion bias. Crossing items off feels heroic, even if the list was nonsense.
Two kinds of desire
- Mask desires. They glitter from afar and collapse up close. You get the thing and feel emptier, not fuller. The high fades fast.
- Portal desires. They rearrange you. Even the pursuit changes your posture. You think clearer. You shed old skins. Whether or not you “get it,” you grow.
A fast audit for your wants
Ask these—then listen without defending the old story:
- If I got this tomorrow, what would actually change?
- If I never got it, what would haunt me about that?
- What am I hoping this spares me from feeling?
- Who would be proud if I did this—me or the crowd?
- What tiny version of this could I try this week?
If the smallest step feels dead, the dream is probably costume jewelry. If the smallest step electrifies you, that’s a portal whispering yes.
Pivot without shame
Outgrowing an old desire doesn’t make you flaky; it makes you honest. The bravest thing you can do is update your map when the terrain changes. We don’t owe yesterday’s self a life sentence. We owe ourselves truth.
Let the portal pick you
You don’t have to force it. The right desires tug. They make you a little braver, a little kinder, a little more awake. You’ll catch yourself protecting time for them. You’ll rearrange budgets for them. You’ll skip applause for them. That’s how you know.
What to do when the dream fizzles
- Grieve it briefly. You invested hope; it’s okay to feel weird.
- Harvest the data. What did this chase teach you about you?
- Move one inch toward the real thing. Small steps expose truth faster than thought loops.
Where we learn the wrong dream
School trains us to pick tracks early and defend them forever. Family scripts reward predictability. Social media rewards performance. None of those systems care whether the thing fits your bones. They care that you keep marching. That’s how bright people stay stuck—serving an identity that stopped serving them.
Career examples
- The “prestige” job. You chased a title because it looked powerful. It paid well, but cost your aliveness. The mask: status. The portal hiding underneath: meaningful impact and autonomy.
- The advanced degree. You wanted the letters. Halfway through, you realized you wanted the craft, not the credential. The mask: approval. The portal: real work.
- The move to a big city. It sounded like opportunity. You felt invisible. The mask: myth. The portal: community—wherever you actually find it.
Money desires (and how they disguise themselves)
A certain number in the bank can feel like safety. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a moving target that keeps you sprinting past your real life. Try this: define “enough” in a sentence, not a number—“Enough is the freedom to say yes to people and projects I love without bargaining with rent.” Then money becomes a tool again, not a scoreboard.
Relationship desires (quiet version)
The list in your notes app? It might be a costume. Try measuring people by how you feel around them—more honest, more brave, more yourself—rather than how neatly they fit your boxes. Portals tend to be people who expand you, not just match you.
Practice: a 7-day desire experiment
Day 1, write your top five wants. Day 2–6, do the smallest test for each—send one email, tour one class, demo one tool, take one hour in the neighborhood you think you want to live in. Day 7, journal what felt alive vs what felt staged. Keep what hummed. Retire what went silent.
Common traps to dodge
- Sunk-cost loyalty. “I’ve spent so much time.” Sunk cost is not a reason to spend your life.
- Audience capture. You’re performing a dream because people cheered. Find out who you are without applause.
- Perfection paralysis. You’re waiting for the “right moment” to switch lanes. That moment usually appears after you move, not before.
What remains when you strip the dream
Often it’s an essence: freedom, mastery, beauty, contribution, wonder, belonging. You can build a life around essences any number of ways. That flexibility is the point. When you stop worshiping the form, you can finally honor the truth.
Travel: portal or trophy?
Some trips are trophies—proof you made it somewhere everyone recognizes. Other trips are portals—places that tune your nervous system, spark better thinking, and change how you relate to your days. The itinerary might look similar on Instagram; the aftertaste is not. Start planning for the aftertaste.
Permission to stop—especially when you’re “almost there”
If you get close and the spark vanishes, you’re allowed to stop. Quitting the wrong thing creates space for the right thing to breathe. Completion for its own sake is a shrine to ego. Completion when the thing is true is devotion.
Question your desires before they own you. Drop the empty masks. Follow the portals that change your bones—even if the postcard never gets printed.
Featured photo by Panos Sakalakis on Unsplash