Perhaps it is hunger. That primal, essential hunger gnawing at the body, bending the world before a hot plate of food. An instinct that drives us before thought even takes shape. Hunger is not just for sustenance; it is for life itself, for survival, for the next breath, the next step forward.
Or perhaps it is fear. Fear of what? Of not being seen, of being seen too much, of existing without leaving a mark. Fear shrinks us yet protects us. Hunger and fear — so primal, so alive, as old as time itself. They guide us in the shadows, shaping our choices before we even recognise them. They whisper in our ears, urging caution, demanding action.
But there is something beyond hunger and fear — something that stretches towards the other. The other who looks at me, desires me, rejects me. The other who shapes me. The yearning to be with, the longing to be noticed in another's gaze. We seek connection, not only to escape solitude but to validate our own existence.
Love, care, attraction — the invisible anchors that pull us, binding us to the earth. The touch that warms us, the word that affirms us, the absence that unravels us. And if the other were not there? What would remain of me? Would we be nothing more than spectres, drifting without reflection, without witness to our existence?
Yet life is not only about being seen — it is about engaging in the dance of existence. And play. Ah, play. A serious game, laughter that teaches, a rehearsal for life itself. Play is both a motive and an escape — a way to touch the world without being wounded, to turn monotony into art, to shape chaos into something comprehensible.
The game of life, of words, of the small deceptions we tell ourselves. Perhaps that is why status is so fierce. Deep down, we want more than just to exist — we want to be known for having existed. A trace in time, a name that does not fade with the tide. A mark that withstands the erosion of forgetfulness, an identity carved into the fabric of history.
And in this game of existence, we seek fairness. And there is justice. The invisible order that keeps us standing. We want things to be right, to be fair, for the world to return what we give to it. And when it does not, there is anger, a rising force within us demanding equilibrium.
There is revolt, that spark that pushes us towards change or into the abyss. The yearning for balance, to see the weight of actions measured and returned. Yet the world does not always follow the rules we create for it. And then — what remains for us? The struggle, the choice between acceptance and resistance.
Perhaps, in seeking balance, we also seek permanence. And there is accumulation. The urge to gather, to preserve, to collect that which offers us security. The world is uncertain, and objects provide the illusion of control. We create to give meaning, shape to define ourselves, leave traces of our existence in everything we touch. Creation is our attempt at immortality, a desperate reach toward eternity.
But accumulation is not enough — we must also question, explore. There is also curiosity, that restless flame that drives us to explore, to learn, to question. Without it, the world would remain unchanged — no discoveries, no new horizons, no revolutions of thought or understanding.
Curiosity propels us beyond the limits of the known, forcing us to see what lies beyond the next turn. It is the thirst for knowledge, for novelty, for adventure. Yet, no matter how much we explore, we yearn for connection.
And there is affiliation, belonging, the need to find a home, a tribe, a community. Loneliness weighs heavily, and connection with others strengthens us, gives us meaning, shields us from the vast indifference of the world. We long to be among our own, to feel part of something greater than ourselves, to hear voices echo our own.
Amidst it all, we seek solace. Amidst it all, there is comfort. The desire for rest, for safety, for solace. Weariness overtakes us, and we seek the refuge of softness, the certainty of routine, the relief of familiarity. Comfort allows us to breathe, to exist without the relentless burden of the search, to pause before moving forward again.
And if, in the end, none of this mattered? If the truth was simply the fact of being here, now, writing these words without the need for a reason? Perhaps the greatest freedom is just that: sometimes, to simply be. To breathe, without guilt, without pursuit, without the compulsion to fill the void with explanations. To simply be — and perhaps, that alone is enough.
Reference: HSE University; London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. 15 Key Motives Drive Human Behavior. Neuroscience News, 19 fev. 2025.
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