Embarrassment

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  At one point during the voyage, he noticed McNeish’s spirits sinking, and suddenly the man stopped rowing. Shackleton sensed the danger here—if he yelled at McNeish or ordered him to row, he would probably become even more rebellious, and with so few men crowded together for so many weeks with so little food, this could turn ugly. Improvising in the moment, he stopped the boat and ordered the boiling of hot milk for everyone. He said they were all getting tired, including himself, and they needed their spirits lifted. McNeish was spared the embarrassment of being singled out, and for the rest of journey, Shackleton repeated this ploy as often as necessary. A few miles from their destination, a sudden storm pushed them back. As they desperately looked for a new approach to the island, a small bird kept hovering over them, trying to land on their boat. Shackleton struggled to maintain his usual composure, but suddenly he lost it, standing and swinging wildly at the bird while swearing. Almost immediately he felt embarrassed and sat back down. For fifteen months he had kept all of his frustrations in check for the sake of the men and to maintain morale. He had set the tone. Now was not the time to go back on this. Minutes later, he made a joke at his own expense and vowed to himself never to repeat such a display, no matter the pressure. After a journey over some of the worst ocean conditions in the world, the tiny boat finally managed to land at South Georgia Island, and several months later, with the help of the whalers who worked there, all of the remaining men on Elephant Island were rescued. Considering the odds against them, the climate, the impossible terrain, the tiny boats, and their meager resources, it was one of the most remarkable survival stories in history. Slowly word spread of the role that Shackleton’s leadership had played in this. As the explorer Sir Edmund Hillary later summed it up: “For scientific leadership give me Scott; for swift, efficient travel, Amundsen; but when you are in a hopeless situation, when there seems no way out, get down on your knees and pray for Shackleton.” • • • Interpretation: When Shackleton found himself responsible for the lives of so many men in such desperate circumstances, he understood what would spell the difference between life or death: the men’s attitude. This is not something visible. It is rarely discussed or analyzed in books. There are no training manuals on the subject. And yet it was the most important factor of all. A slight dip in their spirit, some cracks in their unity, and it would become too difficult to make the right decisions under such duress. One attempt at getting free of the floe, taken out of the impatience and pressure from a few, would certainly lead to death. In essence, Shackleton was thrown back into the most elemental and primal condition of the human

• From Best Erotic Romance

  It sent a shiver down his spine and made his mouth twitch. Before he could change his mind, he had crossed to the window and pulled it open, wide enough to clamber out onto the steel mesh platform. The air was a wonderful shock, gripping him in a dark, oily embrace that somehow, instead of sobering him up, spurred him on. He climbed gingerly down the staircase, flinching at the cold metal teeth digging into the soles of his bare feet, and came to a halt outside her window. There. She was sitting at the table, her chin on her hand, face turned toward him, eyes closed as she nodded along with the music. John lifted his hand to knock. For a split-second, he paused, looking at the little detail he could see in the dim light of the interior. Half a dozen candles burned on a plate at her elbow, their gold flames casting soft little shadows on her face. She wore a loose kimono-type garment, something that shone a little and fell from her shoulders. She looked like a painting, he thought. He shook his head. Waited for the pause in the song, the one he knew cut in after the middle eight. But instead of rapping on the glass, he found himself slamming it with his open hand, hard. Jane jerked fully awake. The dark shape at the window flung itself onto her consciousness like a slap in the face. Instinctively, she reached for the empty plate beside her, scrabbling through dry crumbs before her fingers closed over the handle of the fork. She raised it in front of herself like an undersized trident. Where was her phone? She had to get up and find it, but her eyes were fixed on the figure that hovered outside—a black shadow against the nearly black sky. He knocked on the window. Jane frowned. If he wanted to break in and rape, rob and kill her, why was he knocking? She peered into the gloom. Was he wearing pajamas? The figure shifted as she looked at him, and she saw him wave a kind of salute. Her neighbor? Yes, as she moved closer to the window, letting the hand holding the fork drop to her side, she thought there was something familiar about the shape of the man out there. The hair, normally brushed soft and falling over his face, stuck up wildly in all directions. But the broad, slightly stooped shoulders were his. And yes, as the candlelight fell on his scowling face, she recognized that resentful expression. She took the last few steps confidently and pulled up the sash as though she often received visitors via the window.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  mediocre sides to our character and skills. Snobs are especially sensitive about this, greatly insecure about their origins and possible mediocrity. Their way of dealing with this is to distract and deceive with appearances (as opposed to real originality in their work), surrounding themselves with the extraordinary and with special knowledge. Underneath it all is the real person waiting to come out— rather ordinary and not so very different. In any case, those who are truly original and different do not need to make a great show of it. In fact, they are often embarrassed by being so different and learn to appear more humble. (As an example of this, see the story of Abraham Lincoln in the section below.) Be extra wary of those who go out of their way to make a show of their difference. The Extreme Entrepreneur: At first glance these types seem to possess very positive qualities, especially for work. They maintain very high standards and pay exceptional attention to detail. They are willing to do much of the work themselves. If mixed with talent, this often leads to success early on in life. But underneath the façade the seeds of failure are taking root. This first appears in their inability to listen to others. They cannot take advice. They need no one. In fact, they mistrust others who do not have their same high standards. With success they are forced to take on more and more responsibility. If they were truly self-reliant, they would know the importance of delegating on a lower level to maintain control on the higher level, but something else is stirring within—the Shadow. Soon the situation becomes chaotic. Others must come in and take over the business. Their health and finances are ruined and they become completely dependent on doctors or outside financiers. They go from complete control to total dependence on others. (Think of the pop star Michael Jackson near the end of his life.) Often their outward show of self-reliance disguises a hidden desire to have others take care of them, to regress to the dependency of childhood. They can never admit this to themselves or show any signs of such weakness, but unconsciously they are drawn to creating enough chaos that they break down and are forced into some form of dependency. There are signs beforehand: recurring health issues, the sudden microneeds to be pampered by people in their daily lives. But the big sign comes as they lose control and fail to take steps to halt this. It is best to not get too entangled with such types later on in their careers, as they have a tendency to bring about much collateral damage. The Integrated Human In the course of our lives we inevitably meet people who appear to be especially comfortable with themselves. They display certain traits that help give this impression: they are able to laugh at themselves; they can admit to certain shortcomings in their

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “Either you’re recreating Breakfast at Tiffany’s or you locked yourself out,” she said, her voice warm with relief. He could be a psychopathic weirdo, but he’d always seemed an almost ludicrously polite man, one of those monochromatic shadows that skirt around the edge of life. If she passed him on the stairs, he’d flatten himself against the wall and murmur a greeting she could hardly hear. “Tiffany’s?” he said, screwing his eyes up. He shook his head. “Your music.” Jane glanced at the stereo, still warbling away. “Oh, the music,” she said, turning to give Mr. Pajamas a broad smile. “Siren song, huh? Come on in!” “I…” John hesitated, and then he nodded and followed the sweep of her arm. He felt somehow compelled. He folded his tall frame and slipped through the gap into Jane’s bedroom and stood on her Afghan rug holding his hands out as though feeling for invisible obstacles. He was tall, Jane noticed. Maybe that was why he stooped. And he was blushing too—god, how long had it been since she saw a man blush! It lit up his face under the silvery stubble. “Have a seat,” she said, waving at the futon in the center of the room. “Want a drink?” Before John could answer, she was sweeping over to the sideboard and picking up the gin. She poured a generous tumblerful. “I’m really not here to drink,” he said. “Oh, you’ll need a locksmith, won’t you? I’ll get the Yellow Pages,” she said and hustled to the bookshelves in the kitchen. She swiped an extra glass while she was there—at least now she didn’t feel like such a lush. Drinking alone was not good for her soul. When she came back, John was sitting on the futon, looking thoughtful. She dropped the directory in his lap and raised her glass. “Cheers, anyway,” she said. He sat and stared, his dark, ragged, sleepless eyes fixed on a point just to the left of her head. “So what do they call you?” she said, ducking her head toward the empty air where his gaze was stuck. He looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. “John,” he said. “My name is John.” Jane nodded. “I’m Jane,” she said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.” They shook hands, and Jane held his cool, dry palm in her own. There was apparently something intensely interesting just behind her shoulder—his eyes kept sliding over there. Curious. But she took the chance to get a good look at him.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Dave sang along with Hank Williams’s “Hey Good Lookin’,” his voice a near dead ringer. When the song finished, Sarah tapped the dashboard. “I don’t have a radio. You mind if I check the local stations? Catch up with the news?” “Be my guest, darlin’. A dose of Hank’ll keep me going for miles.” She twisted the dial all the way up and back down a couple times, then settled on a station. A song started. Dave’s brow lowered. “What’s that?” “Jimi Hendrix, ‘Voodoo Child.’” “The sound?” “Huh?” Dave interpreted the guitar’s opening notes deftly. Sarah grinned. “It’s a wah.” “A what?” “A wah. You push it up and down and it makes a sound. You know, like ‘wah, wah.’” “Wah wah.” “Yeah. You like it?” “Not particularly.” Sarah turned the dial, but Dave gripped her hand and turned it back. His thick fingers were like kindling, strangely delicate. “Leave it.” “But you don’t like it.” “Never know till you see something through.” He eased her hand from the radio like lifting a rose. After a couple lousy local commercials over the silence in the cab, the song “Bluebird” played. Dave nodded. “Now I kind of fancy this one.” “I saw Buffalo Springfield in San Francisco. Good show!” “Is that where you’re coming from?” “Yeah. Protesting.” “Anything in particular?” “Huh?” “Protesting. Anything in particular?” A wry smile. He tapped the steering wheel with his meaty thumbs to the beat of the song. Sarah covered her grin. “What do you think?” “Well, there are so many things. Could be burning bras. I hear some gals do that, right?” Dave’s cheeks went a bit pink. Sarah liked the color. She squeezed her polka-dot dress between her full breasts. “With boobs like mine, a bra isn’t a statement, it’s a necessity.” Dave’s blush deepened. He laughed. “Okay, whatcha protesting?” “The war in Vietnam.” Silence except for the song. “I suppose you disagree.” “I don’t ponder on it much.” “You should.” The radio signal began to flutter. Sarah turned the knob. “Not much out here.” Dave waved across the still-darkened Nevada desert. “Yeah, I hate it. It’s always the same. So boring.” “No, no, you just gotta know what to look for. You can’t insist that every road curve and give you big green pastures and majestic mountains. This desert’s beautiful. And these long straight roads, well they’re steady, predictable, always going someplace, always been someplace. It’s a long, beautiful comfort. And give the desert a long drink, and there’s nothing like her.” “I can’t get you to say a word about the war, but talk about the desert and you go on for a week.” “It’s something I like, little…” One brow lifted. “Sarah.” “You don’t feel strongly about our men dying for nothing?” Her voice raised. He held up his hand. “Now, don’t you get your dress in a bundle.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  resilience or toughness that lies on the outside like a protective shell. The other scenario is that a person has a quality that they feel might be antisocial—for instance, too much ambition or an inclination to be selfish. They develop the opposite quality, something very prosocial. In both cases, over the years they hone and perfect this public image. The underlying weakness or antisocial trait is a key component of their Shadow—something denied and repressed. But as the laws of human nature dictate, the deeper the repression, the greater the volatility of the Shadow. As they get older or experience stress, there will be cracks in the façade. They are playing a role to the extreme, and it is tiring. Their real self will rebel in the form of moods, obsessions, secret vices, and behavior that is quite contrary to their image and is often self-destructive. Your task is simple: be extra wary around people who display such emphatic traits. It is very easy to get caught up in the appearance and first impression. Watch for the signs and emergence of the opposite over time. It is much easier to deal with such types once you understand them. The following are seven of the most common emphatic traits that you must learn to recognize and manage appropriately. The Tough Guy: He projects a rough masculinity that is intended to intimidate. He has a swagger and an air that signals he is not to be messed with. He tends to boast about past exploits—the women he has conquered, the brawls, the times he’s outnegotiated opponents. Although he seems extremely convincing in telling such stories, they feel exaggerated, almost hard to believe. Do not be fooled by appearances. Such men have learned to conceal an underlying softness, an emotional vulnerability from deep within that terrifies them. On occasion you will see this sensitive side—they may cry, or have a tantrum, or suddenly show compassion. Embarrassed by this, they will quickly cover it up with a tough or even cruel act or comment. For the baseball player Reggie Jackson, Yankees manager Billy Martin was just such a brawling type. Jackson could recognize the softness behind the bluster in Martin’s touchiness when it came to his ego, his changing moods (not very masculine), and emotional outbursts that revealed glaring insecurities. Such men will often make terrible decisions under the impact of the emotions that they have tried to conceal and repress but that inevitably surface. Although they like to dominate women, they will often end up with a wife who clearly dominates them, a secret wish of theirs. You must not let yourself be intimidated by the front, but also be careful to not stir up their deep insecurities by seeming to doubt their tall tales or masculine nature. They are notoriously touchy and thin- skinned, and you might detect a micropout on their face if you trigger their insecurities, before they cover it up with a fierce scowl. If they

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Justin’s fingers began to stroke her through her panties. “Of course, in the old days, you would have owned me,” she murmured, her legs falling open. “And I’d have come to you a virgin. This would be the very first time we did anything but hold hands.” “If this were the first time I was touching you, I’d probably come in my pants just doing this,” Justin said softly. With his free hand, he reached over and began unbuttoning her blouse. “But you wouldn’t be a virgin. Your uncle would have taken you to a house of ill repute to break you in. So you could break me in.” “I didn’t know you were such an old-fashioned girl at heart.” Justin finished with the buttons and eased the blouse over her shoulders. Was she imagining a new possessiveness in his touch? “I’m glad I’m not a virgin,” she continued, “but there’s still something sexy about having your wedding night be the first time.” He hooked a hand around her bare shoulder and pulled her body toward him, coaxing her to straddle his belly. Unsnapping her bra with an expert hand, he pulled it down over her arms. The steely gleam in his eyes as he stared at her naked breasts was definitely new. “I’m glad it’s not our first time,” he said. “Why?” Justin looked her straight in the eye, and for an instant Sophie did feel possessed, owned. Yet at the same time her body was strangely free and buoyant. “Because I know you’re going to enjoy it,” he said firmly. “I know I’m going to make you come.” “Oh, god,” she whispered, a hot wave of arousal fanning up from her pussy up through her chest. Then she cried out again, “Oh, god, sorry about that.” “What?” “This has never happened before. I sort of, well, flooded my panties. I’m just so...turned on. The way you’re talking...” Justin’s finger burrowed under the elastic of her underwear and came out glistening. Smiling mischievously, he anointed her stiff nipple with her own moisture. She squirmed and bit her lip. “I see you like it when I talk dirty and rub your own juices on your tits,” he said, his voice husky. Sophie felt another release between her legs. Her arousal had never been so obvious—or copious. “Sorry, again,” she stammered, “I think we’re both drenched now.” “Then let’s get out of these wet things. I want you naked anyway,” he replied. There was definitely a new confidence in his tone, as if her obedience was expected and required. Of course, Sophie wanted to be naked, too. She quickly unfastened her skirt, slithered out of her soaking underwear. Justin was out of his khakis and briefs in record time. With a shiver of embarrassment, she noticed the circle of moisture she’d deposited on his fly. Her husband pulled her onto his belly again, his hard cock nudging up against her ass. “Now rub your wet pussy against me.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  We were asking each other a lot of questions with our eyes and answering them. It all happened real fast. I saw the tears just start spilling from her eyes and then she turned to go. By the time I found my voice to speak, Jacqueline was gone. Stone Butch Blues 37 THE NOTE SAILED ACROSS my desk and glided onto the floor. I kept an eye on Mrs. Rotondo while I bent over and picked it up. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. DANGER!! My parents want to know why your parents call our house looking for you. I cant cover for you anymore. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! Love until eternity—your enduring friend, Barbara. I looked up and caught Barbara’s eyes. She wrung her hands and made a face that begged forgiveness. I smiled and nodded. I mimed smoking a cigarette. Barbara nodded and smiled. She made me feel warm inside. Barbara—the girl I'd sat next to in homeroom for two years. Barbara—the girl who told me if I were a guy she’d be in love with me. We met in the girls’ bathroom. Two of the juniors who were smoking had already opened the windows. “Where’ve you been lately?” Barbara demanded to know. “Working like crazy. Pve got to get out of my parents’ house or I’m gonna die. They act like they hate my guts.” I took a deep drag on my cigarette. “I think they wish I was never born.” Barbara looked frightened. “Don’t say that,” she told me, then glanced around as if someone might hear. She took a drag of smoke into her mouth and let it trickle out as she inhaled it up her nose. “Isn’t that wild? It’s called a French Curl. Kevin showed me.” “Oh, shit!’ someone hissed. “Alright girls, line up!” It was Mrs. Antoinette, the scourge of girls who longed for nicotine. She ordered us to line up so she could smell our breath. Since she hadn’t actually seen me, I took a chance and slipped out the door. The halls were deserted. Within minutes a maddening bell would ring and the halls would be jammed with kids using their notebooks in front of them like shields in battle. I guess the summer had changed me. Otherwise I would never have snapped the iron bands of habit and left the building during school hours. I wanted to run atound the track as fast as I could, to sweat out the sticky sensation of imprisonment. But the boys were in football practice in the middle of the field, and a group of girls were trying out for cheerleading. So I climbed up into the bleachers and walked to the far end.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  became the talk of the town and proved quite embarrassing to Lincoln. He managed to get out of the duel, but he vowed to never indulge his cruel streak again. He recognized the trait in himself and would not deny it. Instead he would pour his aggressive, competitive energy into winning debates and elections. On his soft side, he loved poetry, felt tremendous affection for animals, and hated witnessing any kind of physical cruelty. He hated drinking and what it did to people. At his worst, he was prone to fits of deep melancholy and brooding over death. All in all, he felt himself to be far too sensitive for the rough-and-tumble world of politics. Instead of denying this side of himself, he channeled it into incredible empathy for the public, for the average man and woman. Caring deeply about the loss of lives in the war, he put all his efforts into ending it early. He did not project evil onto the South but rather empathized with its plight and planned on a peace that was not retributive. He also incorporated it into a healthy sense of humor about himself, making frequent jokes about his ugliness, high-pitched voice, and brooding nature. By embracing and integrating such opposing qualities into his public persona, he gave the impression of tremendous authenticity. People could identify with him in a way never seen before with a political leader. Explore the Shadow. Consider the Shadow as having depths that contain great creative energy. You want to explore these depths, which include more primitive forms of thinking and the darkest impulses that come out of our animal nature. As children, our minds were much more fluid and open. We would make the most surprising and creative associations between ideas. But as we get older, we tend to tighten this down. We live in a sophisticated, high-tech world dominated by statistics and ideas gleaned from big data. Free associations between ideas, images from dreams, hunches, and intuitions seem irrational and subjective. But this leads to the most sterile forms of thinking. The unconscious, the Shadow side of the mind, has powers we must learn to tap into. And in fact some of the most creative people in our midst actively engage this side of thinking. Albert Einstein based one of his theories of relativity on an image from a dream. The mathematician Jacques Hadamard made his most important discoveries while boarding a bus or taking a shower —hunches that came out of nowhere, or what he claimed to be his unconscious. Louis Pasteur made his great discovery about immunization based on a rather free association of ideas after an accident in his laboratory. Steve Jobs claimed that his most effective ideas came from intuitions, moments when his mind roamed most freely. Understand: The conscious thinking we depend on is quite limited. We can hold on to only so much information in short- and long-term memory. But the unconscious contains an almost limitless

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I looked around for the foreman, but I didn’t see him on the shop floor. I tried to concentrate on my work. I checked the barrel filled with plastic pellets on the skid to my left and pushed the suction hose in a little deeper. Puffs of steam shot from the machine as it cooked the pellets and popped out little plastic parts. It stunk as bad as a burning rubber dish drain. Mind over matter. I willed myself not to think about the stench, my stomach, and the hot, stagnant ait in the factory. Matter won out. I vomited all over the side of the machine and the greasy concrete floor. Bolt ran to me. He was lead man on the set- up crew. He put his hand on my shoulder while I threw up my breakfast. “It’s OK, you'll be OK,” he reassured. I was more embarrassed than anything. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Bolt pulled an oily rag out of the back pocket of his blue work chinos and handed it to me. “You're the third guy on this shift to puke.” “How hot you think it is in here today, Bolt?” “Hundred and ten degrees.” I whistled. “That’s probably right on the nose. How do you do that?” Bolt laughed. “The thermometer on the wall in assembly. You alright?” “Yeah,” I smiled sheepishly. Throwing up had only made the smell worse. Bolt patted my shoulder. “No shame in puking. I do it myself about every Saturday night. Pll send one of the guys from maintenance over to clean this up.” “Hey, Bolt, what are these parts we’re making?” Bolt shrugged. “Something for computers.” I shook my head. “It’s weird to spend half my waking day making something and I don’t even know what the hell it is.” Bolt laughed. “Be glad it has something to do with computers. That means we'll probably both have a job down the line.” He started to walk away and then hesitated. Bolt turned around and put his hand on my shoulder. “Listen,” he said, “if you’re interested, there may be a job opening up soon in shipping and receiving. At least you can breathe in there. How long you been working here?” I thought about it. “Almost a year. But the first three months I was a temp, I don’t know if that counts.” Bolt nodded. “I get around the plant. I'll keep my ear to the ground for you.” He slapped me on the shoulder and walked away. A few minutes later Jimmy came over to clean up my vomit. Jimmy was Mohawk. All the other guys on the maintenance and set-up gangs were white. “Can I help you clean it up?” I asked him. “Tt zs 214 = Leslie Feinberg my mess, after all.” Jimmy shook his head. “Just a job.” “Does Bolt let you work fixing the machines much, or mostly clean up?”

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  It was more like tidbits along the way. And I never understood why, because I was a kid. The only women in my life were my mom and my grandmother and my aunt and my cousin. I had no love interest whatsoever, yet my mom insisted. She would go off on a whole range of things. “Trevor, remember a man is not determined by how much he earns. You can still be the man of the house and earn less than your woman. Being a man is not what you have, it’s who you are. Being more of a man doesn’t mean your woman has to be less than you.” “Trevor, make sure your woman is the woman in your life. Don’t be one of these men who makes his wife compete with his mother. A man with a wife cannot be beholden to his mother.” The smallest thing could prompt her. I’d walk through the house on the way to my room and say, “Hey, Mom” without glancing up. She’d say, “No, Trevor! You look at me. You acknowledge me. Show me that I exist to you, because the way you treat me is the way you will treat your woman. Women like to be noticed. Come and acknowledge me and let me know that you see me. Don’t just see me when you need something.” These little lessons were always about grown-up relationships, funnily enough. She was so preoccupied with teaching me how to be a man that she never taught me how to be a boy. How to talk to a girl or pass a girl a note in class—there was none of that. She only told me about adult things. She would even lecture me about sex. As I was a kid, that would get very awkward. “Trevor, don’t forget: You’re having sex with a woman in her mind before you’re having sex with her in her vagina.” “Trevor, foreplay begins during the day. It doesn’t begin in the bedroom.” I’d be like, “What? What is foreplay? What does that even mean?” A YOUNG MAN’S LONG, AWKWARD, OCCASIONALLY TRAGIC, AND FREQUENTLY HUMILIATING EDUCATION IN AFFAIRS OF THE HEART, PART I: VALENTINE’S DAY It was my first year at H. A. Jack, the primary school I transferred to after leaving Maryvale. Valentine’s Day was approaching fast. I was twelve years old, and I’d never done Valentine’s Day before. We didn’t celebrate it in Catholic school. I understood Valentine’s Day, as a concept. The naked baby shoots you with an arrow and you fall in love. I got that part. But this was my first time being introduced to it as an activity. At H. A. Jack, Valentine’s Day was used as a fundraiser. Pupils were going around selling flowers and cards, and I had to go ask a friend what was happening. “What is this?” I said. “What are we doing?” “Oh, you know,” she said, “it’s Valentine’s Day.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  became the talk of the town and proved quite embarrassing to Lincoln. He managed to get out of the duel, but he vowed to never indulge his cruel streak again. He recognized the trait in himself and would not deny it. Instead he would pour his aggressive, competitive energy into winning debates and elections. On his soft side, he loved poetry, felt tremendous affection for animals, and hated witnessing any kind of physical cruelty. He hated drinking and what it did to people. At his worst, he was prone to fits of deep melancholy and brooding over death. All in all, he felt himself to be far too sensitive for the rough-and-tumble world of politics. Instead of denying this side of himself, he channeled it into incredible empathy for the public, for the average man and woman. Caring deeply about the loss of lives in the war, he put all his efforts into ending it early. He did not project evil onto the South but rather empathized with its plight and planned on a peace that was not retributive. He also incorporated it into a healthy sense of humor about himself, making frequent jokes about his ugliness, high-pitched voice, and brooding nature. By embracing and integrating such opposing qualities into his public persona, he gave the impression of tremendous authenticity. People could identify with him in a way never seen before with a political leader. Explore the Shadow. Consider the Shadow as having depths that contain great creative energy. You want to explore these depths, which include more primitive forms of thinking and the darkest impulses that come out of our animal nature. As children, our minds were much more fluid and open. We would make the most surprising and creative associations between ideas. But as we get older, we tend to tighten this down. We live in a sophisticated, high-tech world dominated by statistics and ideas gleaned from big data. Free associations between ideas, images from dreams, hunches, and intuitions seem irrational and subjective. But this leads to the most sterile forms of thinking. The unconscious, the Shadow side of the mind, has powers we must learn to tap into. And in fact some of the most creative people in our midst actively engage this side of thinking. Albert Einstein based one of his theories of relativity on an image from a dream. The mathematician Jacques Hadamard made his most important discoveries while boarding a bus or taking a shower —hunches that came out of nowhere, or what he claimed to be his unconscious. Louis Pasteur made his great discovery about immunization based on a rather free association of ideas after an accident in his laboratory. Steve Jobs claimed that his most effective ideas came from intuitions, moments when his mind roamed most freely. Understand: The conscious thinking we depend on is quite limited. We can hold on to only so much information in short- and long-term memory. But the unconscious contains an almost limitless

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  woman as any in Amboise. On becoming aware of the man's bad intentions, the woman thought it better to ex- pose his turpitude than to suppress and conceal it by a prompt and decisive refusal ; she therefore pretended to listen to his suit. He, thinking that he had made a con- quest, pressed her incessantly, without considering that she was fifty, that she was not handsome, and that she had the reputation of a good woman who loved her hus- band. One day among others, when the husband was at home, and they were in a lower room, she pretended that the only thing requisite was to find a safe place for a tete-d-tete, where they might entertain each other as he wished. He proposed that they should go up to the garret. She rose at once, and begged him to go first, promising to follow hnn. He, laughing and grinning like an amorous monkey, went up stairs and posted him- self in the garret. Whilst he was waiting for what he had so hotly desired, he listened with all his ears for his fair one's footsteps ; but instead of them, he heard her voice crying out, " Wait a bit, master secretary, till I go and ask my husband if it is his pleasure that I should go to you." Imagine how the man looked in tears who had cut such an ugly figure when laughing. He hurried down stairs with tears in his eyes, and begged her for God's sake to say nothing, and not set her husband against him. " I am certain," she replied, " that you are too much his friend to wish to say anything which might not be repeated to him ; so I am going to speak to him about this matter." And so she did, in spite of all he could do to prevent her. He ran away, and was as much ashamed as the husband was glad to hear of the trick his wife had played him. So satisfied was the good man with his wife's virtue, that he gave himself no concern about his companion's villany, thinking him sufficiently 274 ^^^ HEPTAMERON OF THE \Nffvd 27 punished in having the shame he had intended for him recoil upon his own head. This tale teaches us, ladies, that honest folk ought never to attach themselves to those who have neither conscience, heart, not wit enough to know God, honour, and true love. "Though your tale be short," said Oisille, "it is as amusing as any I have heard, and to the honour of a worthy woman."

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  From now on he belonged to the family, began to take part in the "Children's Days" and was received with courtesy by his bride's relatives. No doubt he felt at once that he was out of place among them; but he disguised that sentiment with an attitude all the bolder, and the Consuls, Uncle Justus, Senator Buddenbrook—though not exactly the Buddenbrook ladies of Broad Street—were tactful indulgences toward this efficient clerk, this socially inexperienced man of hard work . She was needed; because again and again it was necessary to banish the silence that was spreading at the family table in the dining room with an invigorating and distracting word, for example when the director was too teasingly busy with Erika's cheeks and arms, when he asked in conversation whether orange marmalade was made was a pastry—"Flourish pudding," he said with bold emphasis—or when he expressed the opinion that "Romeo and Juliet" was a play by Schiller... things he rubbed his hands carelessly, his upper body thrown back at an angle against the back of the chair, with much freshness and firmness. The best way for him to communicate was with the senator, who knew how to safely steer a conversation with him about politics and business without causing any misfortune. His relationship with Gerda Buddenbrook turned out to be completely desperate. The personality of this lady alienated him to such an extent that he was unable to find anything to talk about for even two minutes. Since he knew that she played the violin and this fact had made a strong impression on him, he limited himself to asking her the joking question at every Thursday meeting: "How's the violin?" - After the third time, however, the senator abstained from any answer. Christian, for his part, used to watch his new relative with a wrinkled nose, and the next day he would carefully imitate his behavior and way of speaking. The second son of the late Consul Johann Buddenbrook had recovered from his articular rheumatism in Öynhausen; but a certain stiffness of the limbs still persisted, and the periodic "torment" in his left side - where "all the nerves were too short" - as well as the other disturbances to which he felt exposed: trouble breathing and swallowing, irregularities of the Heart and tendency to paralysis or fear of it - were by no means eliminated. Also, his appearance was hardly that of a man only in his late thirties. His skull was completely bared; only at the back of the head and at the temples was a little of his thin, reddish hair, and his small, round eyes, which roamed about with restless seriousness, lay deeper than ever in their sockets. But more powerful and bony than ever, his large, humped nose jutted out between the gaunt and sallow cheeks, over the thick, reddish-blond mustache that hung over his mouth... And the trousers, made of durable and elegant English fabric, hung around his scrawny, bent legs .

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  Kim reached out to me, but Gloria grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Come on Kim, Scotty,” Gloria said, pulling them toward the door. “You are really sick, you know that? You really need help.” I turned up my palms in a gesture of exasperation. “Gloria.” People nearby stopped to watch. Kim broke loose and tan toward me at full speed. I lifted her into my arms and hugged her tightly. “Do you still love me?” she whispered. I kissed her nose. “More than ever.” I put her down and she ran back to Gloria. “Exp” a salesman asked me. “Huh?” “Ex-girlfriend?” he nodded with his chin toward the door. “She’s an ex, alright,” I answered. I got a steady gig at a bindery as a mechanic’s apprentice. The guy who interviewed me looked me up and down real hard. I felt color rise in my face. “You look like a clean-cut young man,” he concluded. Only a short time before I had been a monster. Having a job was the good news. But there wasn't much else to do or anyone to do it with. That was the bad news. My greatest recreation was riding my motorcycle. I decided to buy a really nice bike. Early one Saturday afternoon I rode to the West Side to take a look at a Harley Sportster I saw advertised in the newspaper. “Ask for Mike,” the ad read. “You know about bikes?” Mike asked me. We squatted next to the bike in his driveway. Stone Butch Blues V8T I said yes, but I felt like I was lying. It’s funny, a guy gets a Honda 50 mini-bike and he talks like he’s an expert on bikes. A woman could ride a full-dress Harley all her life and she still feels like she’s faking her end of the conversation. He told me he loved that bike, and I could tell by the way he touched it that he meant every word. He hated to sell it, he told me, but he fell in love with a woman who made him choose between her or the bike. He made the right decision. I handed Mike a wad of bills and revved the engine. “Take her up to Canada,” he suggested. “You'll be across the Peace Bridge in ten minutes and you can really open her up on those roads.” I put on my helmet, waved, and drove away. I stopped at Ted’s for a foot-long hot dog. I sat on top of a picnic table outside, surrounded by gulls impatiently waiting for the end of my bun. I could see the line of cars at the Peace Bridge. How many hundreds of times had I gone to Canada this way? But passing as a man meant I hadn’t been able to cross the Peace Bridge because I didn’t have a draft card. The Vietnam War had just officially ended.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  The foreman showed me a metal pole with footholds. I waited for the guy who was already up there to climb down, but he swung down from pipe to pipe, brushed off his hands, and walked away. I assumed he had been doing this job for a while. I had hoped I could climb above the din, but both the height and the roar made me nauseous. This job looked like it required all the skill and judgment 128 = Leslie Feinberg of apple-bopping. But although it wasn’t a complex task, it sure wasn’t as easy as it first appeared. The cattons were packed with heavy cans of applesauce. They hurtled at me with tremendous velocity, and I had to hit them to divert them. I nearly fell off. I learned to hit the boxes from an angle, not head-on. After I got the hang of it, I realized what an interesting vantage point I had. I’d never seen the life of a factory from a bird’s-eye view. The arrangement of the machines, the sequence and interrelatedness of tasks, the organized scurrying of workers. I noticed a ruckus near the women’s bathroom— Butch Jan squared off with two women and a man. It was a fight Pd engaged in many times, but never watched safely as a third party. Jan stood with hands on hips and her mouth moving like she was shouting, I could see how defensive and embarrassed she felt by watching her body. I never would have heard the foreman yelling for me below. He banged a hammer against a metal pipe connected to the one I was sitting on. The vibration startled me, and the next box almost took me over and down. He pointed to his watch. It must be lunchtime. I met up with Jan in the cafeteria. She was upset because some women in the bathroom claimed they thought she was a man. They said God didn’t create women to look like men. “Then explain me,” Jan answered them. I laughed as she told the story, but it really wasn’t funny. I saw that good-looking femme come in, but Jan was sputtering mad and I wanted to hear her out. “They said they thought I was a man when they saw my tattoos.” Jan hit the lunch table. “I said, ‘If you really thought I was a man you'd of run out of the bathroom yelling.” I nodded. She was right. The woman sat at a table with her friends. I swore she was checking me out. Jan glanced over her shoulder to see what I was looking at. “See something you like on the menu?” Jan laughed. I squirmed in my seat. “Aw, you know. She’s probably just playing with me.” “Like hell she is.” Jan sounded in the know. “Whaddya mean?” I shot back. “T heard she asked someone what your name was.” “You're kidding me. I don’t believe it.” Jan looked wounded. “No, really.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  resilience or toughness that lies on the outside like a protective shell. The other scenario is that a person has a quality that they feel might be antisocial—for instance, too much ambition or an inclination to be selfish. They develop the opposite quality, something very prosocial. In both cases, over the years they hone and perfect this public image. The underlying weakness or antisocial trait is a key component of their Shadow—something denied and repressed. But as the laws of human nature dictate, the deeper the repression, the greater the volatility of the Shadow. As they get older or experience stress, there will be cracks in the façade. They are playing a role to the extreme, and it is tiring. Their real self will rebel in the form of moods, obsessions, secret vices, and behavior that is quite contrary to their image and is often self-destructive. Your task is simple: be extra wary around people who display such emphatic traits. It is very easy to get caught up in the appearance and first impression. Watch for the signs and emergence of the opposite over time. It is much easier to deal with such types once you understand them. The following are seven of the most common emphatic traits that you must learn to recognize and manage appropriately. The Tough Guy: He projects a rough masculinity that is intended to intimidate. He has a swagger and an air that signals he is not to be messed with. He tends to boast about past exploits—the women he has conquered, the brawls, the times he’s outnegotiated opponents. Although he seems extremely convincing in telling such stories, they feel exaggerated, almost hard to believe. Do not be fooled by appearances. Such men have learned to conceal an underlying softness, an emotional vulnerability from deep within that terrifies them. On occasion you will see this sensitive side—they may cry, or have a tantrum, or suddenly show compassion. Embarrassed by this, they will quickly cover it up with a tough or even cruel act or comment. For the baseball player Reggie Jackson, Yankees manager Billy Martin was just such a brawling type. Jackson could recognize the softness behind the bluster in Martin’s touchiness when it came to his ego, his changing moods (not very masculine), and emotional outbursts that revealed glaring insecurities. Such men will often make terrible decisions under the impact of the emotions that they have tried to conceal and repress but that inevitably surface. Although they like to dominate women, they will often end up with a wife who clearly dominates them, a secret wish of theirs. You must not let yourself be intimidated by the front, but also be careful to not stir up their deep insecurities by seeming to doubt their tall tales or masculine nature. They are notoriously touchy and thin- skinned, and you might detect a micropout on their face if you trigger their insecurities, before they cover it up with a fierce scowl. If they

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  “Your new suit, honey. You can’t expect to be the Master of Ceremonies of the Monte Carlo Night Drag Show Extravaganza in that tacky old outfit, do you?” I looked bewildered. “We're taking you out and buying you a new suit,” Peaches explained. “You’re going to emcee the drag show next month.” “That’s what I just told you,” Justine sounded annoyed. 60 Leslie Feinberg “T don’t know how to be an emcee.” “Don’t worry, darlin’,” Justine laughed, “you’re not the stat.” Peaches threw her head back. “We are!” “But you are going to look divine,” Justine said, waving a wad of bills. | I had heard horror stories about butches and their femmes trying to shop for a suit at Kleinhan’s clothing store. But this time Kleinhan’s was in for some discomfort as three powerful queens in full drag helped me pick it out. “No,” Justine shook her head emphatically. “She’s an emcee, not a fucking undertaker.” “Earth tones,” Georgetta turned my face in her hands, “because of her coloring.” “No, no, no,” Peaches said, “this is it.” She held up a dark blue gabardine suit. “Yes,” Justine sighed as I came out of the dressing room. “Yes!” “Ooh, honey, I just might swing for you,” Georgetta exclaimed. Peaches fussed with my lapels. “Yes, yes, yes.” “We'll take it,’ Georgetta told the salesman, who looked visibly annoyed. “Tailor it for the child. And make it look nice!” The salesman pulled the tape measure from around his neck and tried to chalk the trousers and jacket without touching me. Finally he straightened up. “You can pick it up in one week,” he announced. “We can pick it up today,’ Georgetta declared. “We'll just walk around the store trying things on till it’s ready.” “No,” the salesman blurted. “(Come back in two hours. Just leave now. Just leave.” “We'll be back in an hour, darlin’”’ Justine said over her shoulder. “See you.” Georgetta blew him a kiss. “C’mon.” Peaches waved for me to follow. “It’s our turn.” They steered me toward the store next door. We were headed for the lingerie department. I shook my head. “T gotta use the bathroom. God, I wish I could wait, but I can’t.” Justine touched my cheek. “Sorry, darlin’.” Peaches drew herself up to her full height. “C’mon. We'll all go in together with her.” “No,” [held up both hands. “Pm afraid we'll all get busted.” My bladder ached. I wished I hadn’t waited so long. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom. Two women were freshening their makeup in front of the mirror. One glanced at the other and finished applying her lipstick. “Is that a man or a woman?” she said to her friend as I passed them. The other woman turned to me. “This is the women’s bathroom,” she informed me. I nodded. “I know.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  At a certain point, the pain of going through this turns into excitement at what you’re uncovering. Embrace the Shadow. Your natural reaction in uncovering and facing up to your dark side is to feel uncomfortable and maintain only a surface awareness of it. Your goal here must be the opposite—not only complete acceptance of the Shadow but the desire to integrate it into your present personality. From an early age Abraham Lincoln liked to analyze himself, and a recurrent theme in his self-examinations was that he had a split personality—on the one hand an ambitious almost cruel streak to his nature, and on the other a sensitivity and softness that made him frequently depressed. Both sides of his nature made him feel uncomfortable and odd. On the rough side, for instance, he loved boxing and thoroughly thrashing his opponent in the ring. In law and politics he had a rather scathing sense of humor. Once he wrote some anonymous letters to a newspaper, attacking a politician he thought of as a buffoon. The letters were so effective that the target went mad with rage. He found out that Lincoln was the source of them and challenged him to a duel. This became the talk of the town and proved quite embarrassing to Lincoln. He managed to get out of the duel, but he vowed to never indulge his cruel streak again. He recognized the trait in himself and would not deny it. Instead he would pour his aggressive, competitive energy into winning debates and elections. On his soft side, he loved poetry, felt tremendous affection for animals, and hated witnessing any kind of physical cruelty. He hated drinking and what it did to people. At his worst, he was prone to fits of deep melancholy and brooding over death. All in all, he felt himself to be far too sensitive for the rough-and-tumble world of politics. Instead of denying this side of himself, he channeled it into incredible empathy for the public, for the average man and woman. Caring deeply about the loss of lives in the war, he put all his efforts into ending it early. He did not project evil onto the South but rather empathized with its plight and planned on a peace that was not retributive. He also incorporated it into a healthy sense of humor about himself, making frequent jokes about his ugliness, high-pitched voice, and brooding nature. By embracing and integrating such opposing qualities into his public persona, he gave the impression of tremendous authenticity. People could identify with him in a way never seen before with a political leader. Explore the Shadow. Consider the Shadow as having depths that contain great creative energy. You want to explore these depths, which include more primitive forms of thinking and the darkest impulses that come out of our animal nature.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  Watch for the signs and emergence of the opposite over time. It is much easier to deal with such types once you understand them. The following are seven of the most common emphatic traits that you must learn to recognize and manage appropriately. The Tough Guy: He projects a rough masculinity that is intended to intimidate. He has a swagger and an air that signals he is not to be messed with. He tends to boast about past exploits—the women he has conquered, the brawls, the times he’s outnegotiated opponents. Although he seems extremely convincing in telling such stories, they feel exaggerated, almost hard to believe. Do not be fooled by appearances. Such men have learned to conceal an underlying softness, an emotional vulnerability from deep within that terrifies them. On occasion you will see this sensitive side—they may cry, or have a tantrum, or suddenly show compassion. Embarrassed by this, they will quickly cover it up with a tough or even cruel act or comment. For the baseball player Reggie Jackson, Yankees manager Billy Martin was just such a brawling type. Jackson could recognize the softness behind the bluster in Martin’s touchiness when it came to his ego, his changing moods (not very masculine), and emotional outbursts that revealed glaring insecurities. Such men will often make terrible decisions under the impact of the emotions that they have tried to conceal and repress but that inevitably surface. Although they like to dominate women, they will often end up with a wife who clearly dominates them, a secret wish of theirs. You must not let yourself be intimidated by the front, but also be careful to not stir up their deep insecurities by seeming to doubt their tall tales or masculine nature. They are notoriously touchy and thin- skinned, and you might detect a micropout on their face if you trigger their insecurities, before they cover it up with a fierce scowl. If they happen to be a rival, they are easy to bait into an overreaction that reveals something less than tough. The Saint: These people are paragons of goodness and purity. They support the best and most progressive causes. They can be very spiritual if that is the circle they travel in; or they are above the corruption and compromises of politics; or they have endless compassion for every type of victim. This saintly exterior developed early on as a way to disguise their strong hunger for power and attention or their strong sensual appetites. The irony is that often by projecting this saintly aura to the nth degree they will gain great power, leading a cult or political party. And once they are in power, the Shadow will have space to operate.