The boulevard of broken dreams is paved with broken hearts. The hungry ghosts of ancient metaphor are simply the shadow cast by un-met yearnings as the light of pure awareness streams through us. In much the same way as bones and tumors stop an Xray, cysts of longing absorb the light of being.
Each creature is born with it's requisite appetites. In the best of circumstances nature seamlessly answers appetite and hunger does not pass into longing.
We do not seek that which we possess: seekers seek a change. Some seek social prominence, some seek isolation, some seek simple pleasure, some seek the pleasure of enlightenment; if there were no hunger there would be no seeking. This is problematical because in our seeking we want to change something that we do not understand: a sapient alarm clock might find annoying the alignment of its gears.
Many of us who hunger for a translucent perception of existence try to get there by rearranging the furniture. Just find a reasonably comfortable place to sit, and explore if there might exist an awareness that is uncolored by expression. If you haven't found that, then its probably best not to mess with the furniture just yet.
