There is a fire in the heart.
It crackles with longing, burns with ache.
Desire rises like smoke,
sometimes sweet, sometimes choking.

The Buddhist looks at the fire and says:

“This fire is not you.
You are clinging to the warmth,
but it will always burn your hands.
Step back.
See the fire for what it is: impermanent, empty.
Let the smoke rise and fall.
Let the coals go cold.
Peace is not found in feeding the fire,
but in ceasing to need its heat.”

Zizek crouches closer to the fire and says:

“There is no outside this fire.
You are its smoke, its flame, its hunger.
The fire is your home.
Don’t dream of escape.
Instead, learn to dance in the sparks.
Let your skin blister.
Know the pain is not a mistake,
but the price of being real.
If the fire hurts, so be it.
Truth is found in the burning.”

Both see the fire.
Both know it’s dangerous.
One seeks to cool the heart.
The other says: “Let it burn – but burn consciously.”

You can walk with either.
Or, perhaps,
just sit by the fire and listen to both.