Contentment
Quiet enoughness—the present holds together without needing to be elsewhere.
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An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.
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From Mud Vein (2014)
His skin was warm like it had been sitting in the sun all day. I watched in mild fascination as he used both of our hands to turn the key. When the door swung open, I stood frozen on the spot, with my back toward him. “I’m gonna go home tonight,” he said. He was so close I could feel his breath moving tendrils of my hair. “Will you be all right?” I nodded. “Call me if you need me.” I nodded again. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and crawled into bed fully clothed. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep while I could still feel him on my hand. Maybe, I wouldn’t dream. The next morning it was snowing. A freak February snow that coated the trees and rooftops in my neighborhood with a butter cream frosting. I wandered from room to room, standing at the windows and staring out at the different views. Around noon, when I was tired of looking, and felt the slow thrumming of a headache starting behind my temples, I talked myself into going outside. It’ll be good for you. You need the fresh air. Daylight doesn’t have teeth. I wanted to touch the snow, hold it in my hand until it burned. Maybe it could clean me of the last few months. I walked past where my jacket hung on the coat rack and swung open the front door. The cold air hit my legs and crawled under my t-shirt. The t-shirt was all I was wearing. No layers of sweaters, no tights underneath sweatpants. The thin beige t-shirt hung around me like a shedding second skin. I was barefoot as I stepped into the snow. It gave under my feet with a soft sigh as I took a few steps forward. My father would have freaked out if he saw me. My father who yelled at me to put my slippers on if I walked on the kitchen floor barefoot in the winter. I could see tire marks that led up one side of my horseshoe driveway to where Isaac parked. It could have been the mailman. I looked back over my shoulder to see if there was a package on my doorstep. There was none. It was Isaac. He was here. Why? I walked to the middle of the driveway and scooped up some of the snow, cupping it in my palm, looking around. It was then that I saw it. A patch of snow had been cleared from my car’s windshield. The car that I never park in the garage, though now I wish I had. There was something underneath my wiper blade.
From Mud Vein (2014)
He had the Finding Neverland soundtrack. I pressed play, and we drove without words, from our lips or from our music. The restaurant was called Olive and smelled like onions and lamb. We sat by the window, just as Isaac promised, and ordered gyros. Neither of us spoke. It was enough to be out among the living. We watched people amble on the sidewalk across the street. Gym goers and doughnut shop goers, and just as he promised, sometimes they were one and the same. The shop was called The Doughnut Hole. It had a large picture of a pink frosted doughnut on the storefront with an arrow pointing to the hole in the center. There was a large flashing blue sign that said, Open 24/7 . People in the city didn’t sleep. I should live there. Some people had a stronger will than others, they only looked lovingly into The Doughnut Hole’s window before racing to their cars. Their cars were mostly hybrids. Generally, hybrid drivers had a nose in the air to things that weren’t good for them. But most couldn’t resist the temptation. It seemed like a cruel joke, really. I counted twelve people who resisted the call to be healthy and followed the smell of white flour and sticky glaze. I liked those people better—the hypocrites. I could relate. When the meal was over, Isaac slipped his credit card out of his wallet. “No,” I said. “Let me…” He looked ready to kick up a fuss. Some men don’t like female gendered credit cards. I gave him a fierce look, and after about five seconds he tucked his wallet back into his back pant pocket. I handed over my card. It was a power move and I’d won—or he’d let me. It’s good to have a little power either way. When he saw me staring across the street at the doughnut shop, he asked if I wanted one. I nodded. He led me to the store and bought a half dozen. When he handed me the bag it was hot … greasy. My mouth started to water. I ate one as he drove me home and we listened to the rest of the Finding Neverland soundtrack. I didn’t even like doughnuts; I just wanted to see what turned all of those people into hypocrites. When we pulled into my driveway I wasn’t sure if he was going to come in or leave me at the door. The rules changed tonight. I willingly went somewhere with him. It felt datish or, at the very least, friendish. But when I opened the front door he followed me inside and turned the deadbolt. I was headed up the stairs when I heard his voice. “I lost a patient today.” I stopped on the fourth stair, but I didn’t turn around. I should have. Something like that was worth turning around for. His voice was clotted. “She was only sixteen.
From Sister Outsider (1984)
So I walked back to him and when I tried to ask him whether I should sit down or wait to be seated, I realized the poor boy did not understand a word that I said. At that point I pulled out my two trusty phrase books and proceeded to order myself a very delicious dinner of white wine, boiled fish soup that was lemon piquant, olive rich, and fresh mackerel, delicate, grilled sturgeon with pickled sauce, bread, and even a glass of tea. All of this was made possible by great tenacity and daring on my part, and the smiling forebearance of a very helpful waiter who brought out one of the cooks from the kitchen to help with the task of deciphering my desires. II It’s very cold in Moscow. The day I arrived it snowed in the morning and it snowed again today, and this is September 16th. My guide, Helen, put her finger on it very accurately. She said that life in Moscow is a constant fight against the cold weather, and that living is only a triumph against death by freezing. Maybe because of the cold, or maybe because of the shortage of food in the war years, but everyone eats an enormous amount here. Tonight, because of a slight error on the part of the waitress, Helen had two dinners and thought very little about eating them both. And no one is terribly fat, but I think that has a good deal to do with the weather. We had wine at dinner tonight, and wine seems to be used a lot to loosen up one’s tongue. It almost seems a prescription. At every dinner meal there are always three glasses: one for water, one for wine, and one for vodka, which flows like water, and with apparently as little effect upon Russians. A group from the conference with our Intourist guides went sightseeing today. It’s hard to believe that today’s Sunday because the whole city seems so full of weekday life, so intent on its own purposes, that it makes the week seem extended by an extra day. We saw the Novagrodsky Convent Museum and the brilliant, saucy golden onion steeples that shock me back from the feeling this is Manhattan.
From How to Be a Great Lover (1999)
But mood isn’t the only element of romance affected positively by the dimming of the lights. Let’s face it, soft lighting has an aesthetic value as well. It is very kind to lines, bags, blemishes, and other pesky facial flaws that are best not displayed under flourescent lights. Any light coming from behind you, rather than from in front or above you, is going to be more flattering to your entire presentation. Referred to in the film industry and in photography as backlighting, it is often used to take years off the faces of models and celebrities. I must say, it doesn’t do any harm to the rest of the body either. Cellulite and love handles also seem to be upstaged by backlight. I often recommend to seminar attendees to, when preparing for a nighttime tryst where moonlight isn’t available, use low-wattage colored lightbulbs, which now come in a variety of shades and can be found almost anywhere regular bulbs are sold. The pink or peach shades not only provide the advantage of low light, they also add a beautiful hue to your skin tone, much the same as a sunrise or sunset would do. CANDLES While not all of us have a fireplace to fill a room with soft, warm light, candles are entirely practical and inexpensive, too. Depending on the size of the room, it can take one, two, or three candles to give your love nest an ethereal, transportive glow. Types of Candles (by no means an exhaustive list)• Spice: sage, cedar, rosemary, lavender, vanilla • Fruit: pear, orange, peach, blueberry, bayberry, lemon • Flower: gardenia, rose, tuberose, jasmine • Essential Oils: patchouli, musk Tips on Candles• Orange- or citrus-scented candles are popular among men. • Ylang-ylang scents are considered aphrodisiacs. • It’s best not to combine floral with fruit scents. • If you’re unsure of how he may react, try a vanilla-scented candle, which is very mild. • Don’t use a heavily scented candle at dinner; it will interfere with the taste of the food. • Never leave candles unattended. • Put a small amount of water in the bottom of a votive candle holder; this will automatically extinguish the candle in case you should forget to blow it out, preventing the holder from becoming so hot it might shatter. Soft light provides a psychological advantage for those who may feel uncomfortable about a sexual encounter, or shy in the first few interludes with a brand new lover. Regardless of how right lovemaking may feel emotionally, whenever you’re trying something different sexually—be it a new partner, position, or sexual act—it is natural to be nervous. Sometimes, a little less light on the subject can help to minimize your self-consciousness.
From Sister Outsider (1984)
We have internal desires but outside controls. But at least there is a climate here that seems to encourage those questions. I asked Helen about the Jews, and she was rather evasive, I think, saying only that there were Jews in government. The basic position seems to be one of a presumption of equality, even though there is sometimes a large gap between the expectation and the reality. We visited a film studio and saw several children’s cartoons which handled their themes beautifully, deeply, with great humor, and most notably, without the kind of violence that we have come to associate with cartoons. They were truly delightful. After two very busy days of meetings in Tashkent, we started out at about 7:30 one morning by bus for Samarkand, the fabulous city of Tamerlane the Great. After a short snooze on the bus I began to feel a little more human, to look about me and the countryside. We’re heading southeast from Tashkent, and Tashkent was southeast of Moscow. The countryside is very beautiful. It feels strange and familiar at the same time. This is cotton country. Miles and miles of it, and trainloads of students were coming south from Moscow on a two-week vacation to party and pick cotton. There was a holiday atmosphere all around. We passed through small villages where I could see little markets with women sitting cross-ankled on the bare earth selling a few cabbages or a small tray of fruit. And walls, behind which you could see adobe houses. Even the walls themselves reminded me very much of West Africa, made of a clay mud that cracks in the same old familiar patterns that we saw over and over again in Kumasi and south of Accra. Only here the clay is not red, but a light beige, and that is to remind me that this is the USSR and not Ghana or Dahomey. Of course, the faces are white. There are other differences that creep through also. The towns and the villages are really in very good repair and there is a powerful railroad running parallel to our road. Long, efficient looking trains and tanker cars and ten-car passenger trains pass by us, going through switch houses with blue and white ceramic tiles and painted roofs, all managed by women. Everything looks massive, bigger, in Russia. The roads are wider, the trains longer, the buildings bigger. The ceilings are higher. Everything seems to be on a larger scale . We stopped for a harvest festival lunch at a collective farm, complete with the prerequisite but very engaging cultural presentation, while vodka flowed. Then we all danced and sang together with the busloads of students who had come to help pick cotton.
From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)
I have to read to her, and she discusses with me all sorts of interesting problems and subjects. She seems entirely transformed; it is as if she were ashamed of the savagery which she betrayed to me and of the cruelty with which she treated me. A touching gentleness transfigures her entire being, and when at the good-night she gives me her hand, a superhuman power of goodness and love lies in her eyes, of the kind which calls forth tears in us and causes us to forget all the miseries of existence and all the terrors of death. * * * * * I am reading Manon l’Escault to her. She feels the association, she doesn’t say a word, but she smiles from time to time, and finally she shuts up the little book. “Don’t you want to go on reading?” “Not to-day. We will ourselves act Manon l’Escault to-day. I have a rendezvous in the Cascine, and you, my dear Chevalier, will accompany me; I know, you will do it, won’t you?” “You command it.” “I do not command it, I beg it of you,” she says with irresistible charm. She then rises, puts her hands on my shoulders, and looks at me. “Your eyes!” she exclaims. “I love you, Severin, you have no idea how I love you!” “Yes, I have!” I replied bitterly, “so much so that you have arranged for a rendezvous with some one else.” “I do this only to allure you the more,” she replied vivaciously. “I must have admirers, so as not to lose you. I don’t ever want to lose you, never, do you hear, for I love only you, you alone.” She clung passionately to my lips. “Oh, if I only could, as I would, give you all of my soul in a kiss—thus—but now come.” She slipped into a simple black velvet coat, and put a dark bashlyk 5 on her head. Then she rapidly went through the gallery, and entered the carriage. [Footnote 5: A kind of Russian cap.] “Gregor will drive,” she called out to the coachman who withdrew in surprise. I ascended the driver’s seat, and angrily whipped up the horses. In the Cascine where the main roadway turns into a leafy path, Wanda got out. It was night, only occasional stars shone through the gray clouds that fled across the sky. By the bank of the Arno stood a man in a dark cloak, with a brigand’s hat, and looked at the yellow waves. Wanda rapidly walked through the shrubbery, and tapped him on the shoulder. I saw him turn and seize her hand, and then they disappeared behind the green wall. An hour full of torments. Finally there was a rustling in the bushes to one side, and they returned.
From How to Be a Great Lover (1999)
There is no reason in the world why anyone should have to miss out on the pleasure of great sensual kissing. To kiss with abandon is to kiss freely and communicate all the subtlety and range of your feelings. [image file=image_rsrc1YE.jpg] Dispelling the MythsMy purpose here is not merely to provide you with information to help you be better in bed. The ultimate goal for all of us is to be smarter in bed. Mastering technique is just a small piece of the bigger picture. Knowing this information is one thing, knowing how to negotiate is another tool for safe sex. Admittedly, a chapter on the precautions and risk factors involved in sexual intimacy isn’t as tantalizing as some of the other chapters might be. I would, however, advise you to read this one in its entirety before passing judgment. There is a little gem in store for you, and I guarantee you’ll be eternally grateful, and so will your lover. Besides, it would be irresponsible of me, or anyone else, to offer advice on sexual interaction without discussing safety. These days, safety is essential. And I happen to think safe sex can also be essensual. Sex is often considered something cheap and dirty and immoral—especially for women. Sex isn’t any of those things. Regardless of anyone’s religious or moral beliefs, sex itself is not bad. We either have sex or end the human race. When, where, how, and with whom we have sex are individual choices. The only two things that ever make sex wrong is if it’s entered into without absolute respect for ourselves and our partners, or without a full understanding of the possible consequences. We’re talking about a life-creating, life-altering, and in some cases, life-ending act. I can’t think of anything more worthy of our respect and understanding. It wasn’t too long ago that the term “safe sex” referred strictly to being kept safe from an unwanted pregnancy. Today when we hear the term, we immediately think of AIDS. There is no question that HIV (human immunodeficiency virus) and AIDS (acquired immunodeficiency syndrome) deserve every bit of the attention that they have received. AIDS can not only kill, but often strips people of all their hope, dignity, and quality of life in the process.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
righteousness unto eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord (5:20, 21). Reckon yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus (6:11). There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus (8:1). To them that love God all things work together for good (8:28). Whom he foreknew, he also foreordained to be conformed to the image of his Son ... and whom he foreordained them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified (8:29, 30). If God is for us, who is against us (8:31)? Who shall separate us from the love of Christ (8:35)? Hardening in part hath befallen Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in; and so all Israel shall be saved (11:25). God hath shut up all unto disobedience, that he might have mercy upon all (11:32). Of Him, and through Him, and unto Him are all things (11:36). Present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service (12:1). § 93. The Epistles of the Captivity. During his confinement in Rome, from A.D. 61 to 63, while waiting the issue of his trial on the charge of being "a mover of insurrections among all the Jews throughout the world, and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes" (Acts 24:5), the aged apostle composed four Epistles, to the Colossians, Ephesians, Philemon, and Philippians. He thus turned the prison into a pulpit, sent inspiration and comfort to his distant congregations, and rendered a greater service to future ages than he could have done by active labor. He gloried in being a "prisoner of Christ." He experienced the blessedness of persecution for righteousness’ sake (Matt. 5:10), and "the peace of God which passeth all understanding" (Phil. 4:7). He often refers to his bonds, and the coupling chain or hand-cuff (a{lusi") by which, according to Roman custom, he was with his right wrist fettered day and night to a soldier; one relieving the other and being in turn chained to the apostle, so that his imprisonment became a means for the spread of the gospel "throughout the whole praetorian guard."1143 He had the privilege of living in his own hired lodging (probably in the neighborhood of the praetorian camp, outside of the walls, to the northeast of Rome), and of free intercourse with his companions and distant congregations. Paul does not mention the place of his captivity, which extended through four years and a half (two at Caesarea, two at Rome, and six months spent on the stormy voyage and at Malta). The traditional view dates the four Epistles from the Roman captivity, and there is no good reason to depart from it.
From Mud Vein (2014)
“No. I was aiming for your nose.” “My turn.” I nod and open my mouth, tilting my head forward instead of back so I can make it harder for him. The banana lands directly on my tongue. I chew it sulkily. “You’re a surgeon. Your aim is impeccable.” He shrugs. “I can beat you,” I say, “at something. I know I can.” “I never said you couldn’t.” “You imply it with your eyes,” I wail. I chew on the inside of my cheek while I try to cook something up. “Wait here.” I sprint up the stairs. There is a metal chest in the carousel room at the foot of the bed. I found games in there earlier, a couple of puzzles, even some books on human anatomy and how to survive in the wild. I rifle through its contents and pull out two puzzles. Each one has a thousand pieces. One depicts two deer on a cliff. The other is a “Where’s Waldo at the Zoo.” I carry them downstairs and toss them on the table. “Puzzle race,” I say. Isaac looks a little taken back. “Seriously?” he asks. “You want to play a game?” “Seriously. And it’s a puzzle, not a game.” He leans back and stretches his arms over his head while he considers this. “We stop at the same time for bathroom breaks,” he says firmly. “And I get the deer.” I extend my hand and we shake on it. Ten minutes later we are sitting across from each other at the table. It is so large in circumference that there is plenty of room for both of us to spread out with our respective thousand pieces. Isaac sets two mugs of coffee between us before we start. “We need some rules,” he announces. I slide my mug over and hook a finger in the handle. “Like what kind?” “Don’t use that tone with me.” My face actually feels stiff when I smile. Other than my manic laughing the first day we woke up here, it’s probably the first time my face has moved in the upward direction. “Those there are the laziest muscles on your body,” Isaac announces when he sees it. He slides into his chair. “I think I’ve seen you smile one other time. Ever.” It feels awkward to even have it on my face, so I let it drop to sip the coffee. “That’s not true.” But I know it is. “Okay, the rules,” he says. “We take a shot every half hour.” “A shot of liquor?” He nods. “NO!” I protest. “We’ll never be able to do this if we are drunk!” “It levels the playing field,” he says. “Don’t think I don’t know about your puzzle love.”
From How to Be a Great Lover (1999)
This takes the blow up doll into the twenty-first century with a bang. It’s best I just tell you to find it on www.realdoll.com/ It has too many features and I would do it injustice with a one paragraph description. Suffice it to say this is the doll that Howard Stern had sex with on his show. Where Can I Get Toys?There are a number of mail-order, fully illustrated catalogues, as well as stores in most major cities, nationwide, that sell sex toys. Consult Sources at the back of the book. Toys may not be for everyone, but they can be a lot of fun and add yet another new dimension to sex with your partner. [image file=image_rsrc204.jpg] How to Be a Great Lover is my gift to you. At the risk of sounding sanctimonious, I must tell you that women who have attended my seminars (and their men as well) have said that these techniques have changed their lives. It is my hope that you too can benefit from my long and winding search for useful, practical information about how to become not just proficient as a lover, but a master. However, keep in mind that the information in this book is yours and yours alone—until you choose to share it. It’s personal, private, and special. And no one should feel forced to share this kind of knowledge unless and until she wants to. Remember, this book’s premise is that the more information you have, the more confident you will feel as a lover. But it’s completely up to you how and when to use the information. If you’re in a new relationship, for example, you may want to wait and see how other aspects of intimacy progress before trying a technique. Trust yourself. For those of you in a marriage or long-term relationship, you may have more room to explain to your partner how you suddenly became a sexual master. Again, if you’ve been with your partner for a long time, you will probably feel more casual about telling him. However, in newer relationships, you may experience some awkwardness when first introducing some of these techniques and he may even wonder how you became such a great lover. Put any worries to rest by showing him the book. In my seminars I have heard again and again women sharing their stories of how they’ve explained their newfound talents to their men; believe me, the men may be surprised, but they are ultimately grateful. Above and beyond all, these techniques are meant to enhance your sexual relationship and give both you and your lover a richer, more meaningful intimacy. Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! And good luck! BibliographyAnand, Margo. The Art of Sexual Ecstasy: The Path of Sacred Sexuality for Western Lovers. 450 pp. Los Angeles, CA: Jeremy Tarcher, 1989. Anand, Margo. The Art of Sexual Magic: Cultivating Sexual Energy to Transform Your Life. 383 pp. New York, NY: Tarcher/Putnam, 1995.
From Sister Outsider (1984)
But that strength is illusory, for it is fashioned within the context of male models of power. As women, we have come to distrust that power which rises from our deepest and nonrational knowledge. We have been warned against it all our lives by the male world, which values this depth of feeling enough to keep women around in order to exercise it in the service of men, but which fears this same depth too much to examine the possibilities of it within themselves. So women are maintained at a distant/inferior position to be psychically milked, much the same way ants maintain colonies of aphids to provide a life-giving substance for their masters. But the erotic offers a well of replenishing and provocative force to the woman who does not fear its revelation, nor succumb to the belief that sensation is enough. The erotic has often been misnamed by men and used against women. It has been made into the confused, the trivial, the psychotic, the plasticized sensation. For this reason, we have often turned away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic. But pornography is a direct denial of the power of the erotic, for it represents the suppression of true feeling. Pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling. The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves. It is never easy to demand the most from ourselves, from our lives, from our work. To encourage excellence is to go beyond the encouraged mediocrity of our society is to encourage excellence. But giving in to the fear of feeling and working to capacity is a luxury only the unintentional can afford, and the unintentional are those who do not wish to guide their own destinies. This internal requirement toward excellence which we learn from the erotic must not be misconstrued as demanding the impossible from ourselves nor from others. Such a demand incapacitates everyone in the process. For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness .
From Sister Outsider (1984)
The people here in Tashkent, which is quite close to the Iranian border, are very diverse, and I am impressed by their apparent unity, by the ways in which the Russian and the Asian people seem to be able to function in a multinational atmosphere that requires of them that they get along, whether or not they are each other’s favorite people. And it’s not that there are no individuals who are nationalists, or racists, but that the taking of a state position against nationalism, against racism is what makes it possible for a society like this to function. And of course the next step in that process must be the personal element. I don’t see anyone attempting or even suggesting this phase, however, and that is troublesome, for without this step socialism remains at the mercy of an incomplete vision, imposed from the outside. We have internal desires but outside controls. But at least there is a climate here that seems to encourage those questions. I asked Helen about the Jews, and she was rather evasive, I think, saying only that there were Jews in government. The basic position seems to be one of a presumption of equality, even though there is sometimes a large gap between the expectation and the reality. We visited a film studio and saw several children’s cartoons which handled their themes beautifully, deeply, with great humor, and most notably, without the kind of violence that we have come to associate with cartoons. They were truly delightful. After two very busy days of meetings in Tashkent, we started out at about 7:30 one morning by bus for Samarkand, the fabulous city of Tamerlane the Great. After a short snooze on the bus I began to feel a little more human, to look about me and the countryside. We’re heading southeast from Tashkent, and Tashkent was southeast of Moscow. The countryside is very beautiful. It feels strange and familiar at the same time. This is cotton country. Miles and miles of it, and trainloads of students were coming south from Moscow on a two-week vacation to party and pick cotton. There was a holiday atmosphere all around. We passed through small villages where I could see little markets with women sitting cross-ankled on the bare earth selling a few cabbages or a small tray of fruit. And walls, behind which you could see adobe houses. Even the walls themselves reminded me very much of West Africa, made of a clay mud that cracks in the same old familiar patterns that we saw over and over again in Kumasi and south of Accra. Only here the clay is not red, but a light beige, and that is to remind me that this is the USSR and not Ghana or Dahomey. Of course, the faces are white. There are other differences that creep through also.
From Mud Vein (2014)
We drink our coffee at the table. Usually in silence, but sometimes Isaac talks to fill the space. I like those days. He tells me about cases that he’s had … difficult surgeries, the patients who lived and ones who didn’t. We eat breakfast after that: oatmeal or powdered eggs. Sometimes crackers with jam spread on them. Then we part ways for a few hours. I go up, he stays down. Usually I use that time to shower and sit in the carousel room. I don’t know why I sit in there except to focus on the bizarre. We switch after that. He comes up to take his shower and I go down to sit for a while in the living room. That’s when I pretend to read the books. We meet up in the kitchen for lunch. We know it’s lunch by our hunger, not by the position of the sun, or by a clock. Tick-tock, tick- tock. Lunch is canned soup or baked beans cooked with hot dogs. Sometimes he defrosts a loaf of bread and we eat that with butter. I clean the dishes. He watches the snow. We drink more coffee, then I go to the attic room to sleep. I don’t know what he does during that time, but when I come downstairs again he’s restless. He wants to talk. I climb up and down the stairs for exercise. Every other day I jog around the house and do sit-ups and push-ups until I feel as if I can’t move. There are a lot of hours between lunch and dinner. Mostly we just wander around from room to room. Dinner is the big event. Isaac makes three things: meat, vegetable and starch. I look forward to his dinners, not just because of the food, but the entertainment as well. I come downstairs early and perch myself on the tablet to watch him cook. Once I asked him to verbalize everything he was doing so I could pretend I was watching a cooking show. He did, only he changed his voice and his accent and spoke in the third person. Isseeec veel sautee zees undetermined meat over ze stove veeth butter and…. Every few days when the mood is lighter I request a different Isaac cook me dinner. My favorite being Rocky Balboa, in which Isaac calls me Adrian and mimics Sylvester Stallone’s awful attempt at a Philly accent. Those are the better nights—little slivers in between the very bad ones. On the bad ones we don’t speak at all. On those days the snow is louder than the kidnapped houseguests.
From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)
But where shall I find the woman who knows how to rule, calmly, full of self-confidence, even harshly, and not seek to gain her power by means of petty nagging?” “Oh, that might not be so difficult.” “You think—” “I—for instance—” she laughed and leaned far back—“I have a real talent for despotism—I also have the necessary furs—but last night you were really seriously afraid of me!” “Quite seriously.” “And now?” “Now, I am more afraid of you than ever!” We are together every day, I and—Venus; we are together a great deal. We breakfast in my honey-suckle arbor, and have tea in her little sitting-room. I have an opportunity to unfold all my small, very small talents. Of what use would have been my study of all the various sciences, my playing at all the arts, if I were unable in the case of a pretty, little woman— But this woman is by no means little; in fact she impresses me tremendously. I made a drawing of her to-day, and felt particularly clearly, how inappropriate the modern way of dressing is for a cameo-head like hers. The configuration of her face has little of the Roman, but much of the Greek. Sometimes I should like to paint her as Psyche, and then again as Astarte. It depends upon the expression in her eyes, whether it is vaguely dreamy, or half-consuming, filled with tired desire. She, however, insists that it be a portrait-likeness. I shall make her a present of furs. How could I have any doubts? If not for her, for whom would princely furs be suitable? * * * * * I was with her yesterday evening, reading the Roman Elegies to her. Then I laid the book aside, and improvised something for her. She seemed pleased; rather more than that, she actually hung upon my words, and her bosom heaved. Or was I mistaken? The rain beat in melancholy fashion on the window-panes, the fire crackled in the fireplace in wintery comfort. I felt quite at home with her, and for a moment lost all my fear of this beautiful woman; I kissed her hand, and she permitted it. Then I sat down at her feet and read a short poem I had written for her. CHAPTER IV " L ET us now go back to our story." "When was it that you met Teleny again?" "Not for some time afterwards. The fact is that although I continued to feel irresistibly attracted towards him, drawn as it were by an impelling power the strength of which I could at times hardly withstand, still I continued to avoid him. "Whenever he played in public I always went to hear him—or rather, to look at him; and I only lived during those short moments when he was on the stage.
From Between Us
In the early days of Tsai’s research program, I remember her being challenged at professional conferences. “Should calm and being at peace be considered real emotions?” many a colleague wondered aloud. Remember, some of the most commonly used psychological scales of emotions focus exclusively on excited happiness. My (Belgian) master’s students similarly mistook the Japanese preference for “calmness” to be a desire to “be rational” and contrasted this desire with the Belgian acceptance of emotions. Turning the temperature down was seen by my Belgian students as being rational, not as being calm. The cultural emphasis on excited happiness may have blinded psychologists in general to the importance of calm happiness (as an emotion)—which, even in WEIRD cultures, may play a bigger role than we realize. Psychologists and health researchers now find health and well-being associated with culturally valued feelings. You may remember that taking a bath, rather than feeling excited, predicted health in Japan. Calm activities are healthy in Japan; energetic happiness is not only less desired, but also considered not particularly healthy in Japan. Conversely, depression among Hong Kong Chinese meant not being calm enough, whereas among white Americans it meant a lack of excitement. Ill-being was related to lacking the happiness that is culturally valued. There is also strong evidence that, when calm is culturally valued, people prefer others who seem to have “calm feelings.” Tsai and her colleagues found over and again that individuals better liked, trusted, and treated others who had the “right” emotions, compared to others who had not. Here too the findings suggest that the preference for calm happiness goes beyond lip service. As a case in point, the publicly posted pictures of business leaders, university presidents, and political leaders—people entrusted with responsibility—showed smiles that corresponded with the “right” positive affect in their respective countries. If calm happiness was culturally preferred, then the smiles of its leaders were “calm” and closed; if excited happiness was preferred, then the smiles of leaders in those countries were “excited” or open. Differences could not be explained by higher GDPs per capita, level of democracy, or development. [image file=image_rsrc2M8.jpg] Figure 5.2 “Excited” and “calm” smiles. Smiles were coded for facial action units. AU6=arched eyes, AU12=corners mouth up; AU25+26=lips parted (teeth possibly showing) and jaw drop. (Copyright © 2016, American Psychological Association)
From How to Be a Great Lover (1999)
In the female-superior position, you are on top during intercourse, usually straddling him with the bulk of your weight distributed evenly between both of your knees. This can be done either facing him or facing away from him. Another variation on this position would be for you to squat over him with your feet flat on either side. Many women prefer the female-superior position because it allows for deeper penetration and allows you to control the speed of thrust since you are the person doing the thrusting. It also works well if you are much taller than your man. However, this does require a lot more work on your part and, some say, “ski racers’ quads.” Men tend to enjoy this position a lot because it provides them with a good look at your body. They love to see a woman’s breasts move up and down with each thrust and see her hair falling or hitting them in the chest or face. Keep in mind that men are visual creatures and they love to watch. A male magazine editor from San Francisco says, “I knew this would be my favorite position from the time I saw a porn film when I was fourteen when this woman in a big skirt lowered herself onto a man. When my wife lowers herself onto me, it takes all my power not to shoot off right then.” Men also like to see the expression on your face and know that you’re having a good time while you’re having sex. A homemaker from Omaha said, “My breasts are unbelievably sensitive, so the combination of me on top leaning forward, while my husband licks, sucks, and plays with my breasts, is a surefire winner.” On the other hand, the women who don’t enjoy this position say that it’s because they feel self-conscious about having their bodies exposed and in full view. If you don’t feel particularly confident in the shape or tone of your body, it is understandable that you might feel uncomfortable about having it on display in this manner. But again, according to what men tell me, they are not looking at you with a critical eye at this time. Quite the contrary. Some men may be critical of women’s bodies outside the bedroom, but during sex their women’s bodies are beautiful to them. As a Seattle computer executive told me, “By the time I’m with a woman, I want to be intimate with her entire body.” [image file=image_rsrc1ZN.jpg] Tips• To increase the odds of coming during intercourse or coming with him, have your clitoris stimulated to the point where you feel orgasm is imminent, then get into the woman-superior position. If you thrust, there is a good chance you’ll be able to reach orgasm with him inside of you.
From Between Us
In the middle of this stressful procedure—right after preparing the speech—some participants wrote a letter to someone they felt close to, seeking social support for the upcoming tasks. This helped the white American individuals—their stress levels went down—but it did not reduce stress in Asian American individuals. Was there anything else that could reduce the stress of the Asian American participants? Yes, there was, but it was not seeking closeness or social support. Instead, their stress went down when they thought about “a group that they were close to” and wrote “about the aspects of that group that were important to them.” In Asian American contexts, people do not seek active affirmation from others, but they still find it good to know that they are part of a group when the going gets tough. What can we learn from these and like-minded studies? Love is an invention of societies that are organized around autonomous individuals; it is needed less in societies where the relationship networks are unquestioned and permanent. It is no coincidence that love is so central in modern child-rearing: in WEIRD cultures where we raise our children for independence, we need to assure them that we as parents stay close, because they are so special. As indispensable as it now seems to healthy child development, it has not always been the “right” emotion in the relationship between parents and children. “I love you” is a fairly modern invention, but human relationships are not. No human being lives by themselves: we all need and value social relationships. But the “right” emotions, the emotions that regulate those relationships to the needs of the social context, are different. Love is right in an individualist culture, where autonomous individuals seek to connect. Amae and fago may be the right emotions in collectivist cultures where relationship partners seek to meet each other’s needs. In cultures where strong ties exist and people are inherently interconnected, individuals may be more focused on limiting the burden on themselves, or avoiding the burden on others. It cannot be ruled out that some form of love occurs in these cultures as well, but love is not “right” in the same way as it is in WEIRD cultures. There are many kinds of “love,” all of which spin the connection between people. Nobody would confuse romantic love with parental love (and if they did, we would strongly condemn this confusion). But it is even more true when we look at collectivist cultures: emotions of connection do many different things, ranging from helping another person in need to making another person feel unique, from maintaining existing connections to procuring new ones, from providing another person with material resources to cherishing time together. Which emotion is “right” depends on the context. Happiness
From The Erotic Mind (1995)
YOUR PERSONAL RESPONSE STYLENo two people respond exactly the same way even to very similar peak experiences. Your background and individual propensities cause you to focus on certain responses while ignoring or downplaying others. This is the order in which The Group mentions their subjective responses, starting with the most frequent: Sensual and orgasmic intensity Reduced inhibitions Validation given and received Mutuality and resonance Transcendence of personal boundaries You may have felt some or all of these responses, or different ones not on this list. To learn more about what erotic fulfillment consists of for you, make your own list of responses, starting with the ones you recall most frequently and then adding those you recall experiencing less often. The responses toward the top of your list obviously play a crucial role in helping you feel fulfilled. The next time you’re engaged in an enjoyable encounter or fantasy, make a point of observing and savoring those subjective responses that stand out. You may make these observations during the experience or afterward. Either way, there’s no reason for this process to make you self-conscious because you’re not judging or evaluating—just observing. When you focus on your favorite responses you can experience more fully the things you already like. However, if you make a point of noticing the responses with which you are less familiar, you can open up the possibility of a qualitative shift in your experience. It’s your unfamiliar responses that may offer the greatest opportunities for developing your erotic potential. As an experiment, pick one or two responses at the bottom of your list. Move into a comfortable position, close your eyes, and recall one of your favorite encounters or fantasies. Imagine how your experience might have differed had you been more aware of these responses. Is it possible you could have enjoyed yourself even more had you been attuned to them? By repeating this simple exercise with a variety of different memories you can gradually train yourself to notice a wider range of responses, and in the process bring a new richness to your eroticism. But don’t fall into the trap of trying to experience all responses equally; that would be unrealistic and pointless. After all, what could be more uniquely individualistic than the shape and texture of eros fulfilled? THE PASSION-FULFILLMENT PARADOXI hope this book has helped you make valuable discoveries about how the erotic mind creates and intensifies desire and arousal. I also hope you have cultivated the paradoxical perspective—a different way to explore your eroticism. It may not be the easiest way, yet I trust your willingness to tolerate contradictions and ambiguities has proven fruitful.
From The Erotic Mind (1995)
According to the ideals of love and marriage to which most of us subscribe, deepening affection and closeness are supposed to coexist with a dependable, satisfying sex life. However, the difficulty millions of couples have in combining closeness with sexual enthusiasm is evident in the steady stream of books and articles about keeping the spark in marriage. Marital experts often insist that waning passion is the result of poor communication skills, a lack of intimacy and trust, or unresolved conflicts. While it’s true that any of these can lead to unsatisfying sex, it is most definitely not true that good relationships automatically lead to good sex. In fact, my observations match those of Dr. Tripp. It is often in the best relationships that passion becomes most elusive. I’m also convinced that couples who openly confront the difficulties of combining intimacy and passion are the ones most likely to thrive. It is crucial to acknowledge that closeness and sexual desire are not one and the same, but rather two separate, yet interacting experiences. Their rhythms vary tremendously according to how each relationship begins and unfolds. THE EVOLUTION OF SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPSAlthough many have attempted to codify the stages of committed love, the fact is that no two partnerships follow exactly the same course.2 Nor is it possible to predict with confidence which couplings will endure and which won’t. I’m sure you’ve known partners who appeared to detest each other yet stayed together anyway. Conversely, other couples who seem genuinely to care for each other surprise everyone when they separate. Love refuses to conform to rational notions about how it should begin, progress, flourish, or die. Nonetheless, the vast majority of couples I’ve worked with grapple with similar turning points in the development of their relationships, each with implications for the quality of their interaction—both in and out of bed. THREE PATHS TO COUPLEHOODThe emergence of a couple marks the birth of an entirely new entity. In the formation of we, both the self and the other are changed. Sometimes two people know from the first shared glances that their lives are destined to be intertwined. For others the sense of we-ness that eventually forms the nucleus of a lasting bond builds slowly with innumerable ups and downs. Not only do couples form at different speeds, they also adopt different interpersonal styles based on what draws them together: Passionate couples are swept up in the intensity created by the dance of opposites. Companionate couples are founded on mutual understanding, resonance, and comfort. Pragmatic couples are concerned with practicalities such as availability, money, prestige, or social acceptance. To some degree, each couple is a blend of styles, but always with a distinct emphasis.
From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)
Into the first way we cannot go very far. In its inner nature, belief or the sense of reality, is a sort of feeling more allied to the emotions than anything else. Mr. Bagehot distinctly calls it the 'emotion' of conviction. I just now spoke of it as acquiescence. It resembles more than anything what in the psychology of volition we know as consent. Consent is recognized by all to be a manifestation of our active nature. It would naturally be described by such terms as 'willingness' or the 'turning of our disposition.' What characterizes both consent and belief is the cessation of theoretic agitation, though the advent of an idea which is inwardly stable, and fills the mind solidly to the exclusion of contradictory ideas. When this is the case, motor effects are apt to follow. Hence the states of consent and belief, characterized by repose on the purely intellectual side, are both intimately connected with subsequent practical activity. This inward stability of the mind's content is as characteristic of disbelief as of belief. But we shall presently see that we never disbelieve anything except for the reason that we believe something else which contradicts the rest thing.[297] Disbelief is thus an incidental complication to belief, and need not be considered by itself.