Admit it: we all have objects of desire. For some, it might be fame or status, for others, maybe it’s money, or a special relationship. But for my little four-legged friend Glenn, his primary object of desire is an orange rubber ball. The only thing better than his orange rubber ball is a second orange rubber ball so he can indulge in his favorite pastime which we like to call “two-ballin.” When Glenn goes two-ballin’, he holds one ball in his mouth and plays soccer with the second ball. Keeps him occupied for hours and saves wear-and-tear on my rotator cuff.
Jacques Lacan was a 20th Century French psychologist who has been described as “the most controversial psychoanalyst since Freud.” That may or may not be a compliment, but one of his most controversial contributions to the twin fields of psychology and psychiatry was his theory of petit objet a, which, if I understand it, stands for an unattainable object of desire. I’ve tried to unravel the mystery of unattainable objects of desire, but I invariably get lost in the woods of psychobabble. That’s when I go out to the backyard and watch Glenn go two-ballin.
And I think: what are the objects of desire in my own life, and are they attainable or unattainable? I’m at that stage of life when I don’t need more “things;” in fact, in our little house, less is so much more. That said, there are certain objects of desire that, while not as “touchable” as a well-chewed and much-beloved orange rubber ball, they are none-the-less real. Peace. Civility. A hug from one of my grandkids. A good night’s sleep. Shoes that really slip on. A task accomplished.
Meanwhile, Glenn has found another orange rubber ball that was hiding in the garden. Now he’s almost overwhelmed with objects of desire. He puts one in his mouth, kicks another, then considers the third, wondering how to incorporate it into the fun. It’s an embarrassment of riches that almost boggles his dog brain. Nevertheless, he muzzles on, content to chase all three of his objects of desire at the same time. Maybe he won’t attain all three at the same time, but think he cares? The fun is in the chase. Which leads me to my next thought: isn’t it the hope of attaining the unattainable that matters most, the motivation that gets us out of bed in the morning?
Glenn has a good life. He’s just our day dog. At night, when the shops in town close, he goes home with his human mom and dad and plays ball with them until it’s time for dinner. And after dinner, it’s a soft bed and dreams of a tomorrow filled with a beggar’s bounty of orange rubber balls. He’s not inclined to delve into Jacques Lacan’s theories on unattainable objects of desire, so why should I?
Because I’m not a dog; I’m human. Because while I can watch Glenn happily chase his objects of desire, I know my life is not quire so simple. But then again maybe Glenn is showing me another path; maybe he is the Jedi master and I’m the humble student. Maybe he’s showing me that too many objects of desire, particularly unattainable ones, can complicate the art of living well. Maybe the best objects of desire are simple and attainable.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives in Chestertown. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine.
His new novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon.
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