Hope

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 Reading the Bible from the Margins (2002)

  Is it any wonder that those who worked all day grumbled against the vineyard owner? Shouldn't workers be paid according to the amount of time they invested in the job? In order to reconcile how fairness is defined on the basis of our present capitalist economic system and how the biblical passage defines fairness, the Bible must be read metaphorically. Then the parable is understood as God providing the gift of salvation (the denarius) without regard to how much work is done by the individual or how long one has labored for God. All who come to God are given the same portion of grace regardless of when in their life journey they turned to God. While such a spiritual reading may provide additional insight, to read the text solely metaphorically and avoid a material reading allows the reader to justify the injustices of the present economic system and ignore the radical call of being a disciple of Jesus. For those who are undocumented and accustomed to stand at designated street corners throughout major cities of this country, waiting and hoping for a patron to stop and offer a job (off the books to avoid employment taxes), the fairness of this parable resonates. For those who are relegated to the ghettos and barrios , unemployed or limited to minimum-wage service jobs, the fairness of this parable provides a vision for a just society based on the rule of God. How many of these migrant workers end up working all day, only to be paid a fraction of their worth because they are undocumented? How many times has the employer contacted the INS to show up at the end of the workday to arrest the “illegals” and get out of paying them for their work? Or how many of these workers injure themselves at the job, only to be dropped off at the closest hospital and left to fend for themselves? To read this parable from the margins, from the perspective of the poor, is to recognize that the vineyard owner, that is, the employer, has a responsibility toward the laborers, a responsibility that goes beyond what traditional capitalist thinking defines as just. To read the text materially is to realize Jesus’ awareness of the laborer's plight. Poverty is usually defined as a lack of resources, specifically money. Yet poverty's dysfunctions encompass a higher likelihood of failed marriages; a higher susceptibility to illness, disease, and sickness; a greater likelihood of having children who will not complete high school; a higher probability of having children who will have difficulties with law enforcement agencies; a greater chance of being a victim of a crime; and a shorter life expectancy. Poverty can never be defined simply as a lack of money; it is a debilitating lifestyle that robs its victim of dignity and personhood. Jesus fully understood that poverty prevented those who were created in the image of God from participating in the abundant life he came to give.

• From Cleanness (2020)

  I’ve come here every day, M. said, walking beside me, it makes me so happy to be here. Some people walking nearby began shouting Ostavka , picking up a chant that had migrated from the front of the march, and M. joined them for a few rounds, looking at me a little sheepishly. I didn’t join in, I hadn’t joined in any of the chants, even though I felt moved to; it wasn’t my country, I kept saying to myself, it wasn’t my place, but I was sorry when M. fell silent too. We walked a little faster, moving back into the middle of the boulevard, headed toward NDK, the Palace of Culture. One side of the street was lined with apartment buildings, the gray of their façades broken by large flags draped from the balconies, on almost all of which people stood watching, elderly men and women, many of them waving, as if to say they would be with us if they could. On the other side of us the trees lining the canal were catching the last of the light, the new leaves incandescent, Sofia was more beautiful to me then than I had ever seen it. There’s never been anything like this, M. said then, I mean maybe in 1989 but nothing I’ve ever seen. Something’s really happening, I feel like I’m part of something, not just here but something bigger. It’s the same as what’s happening in Taksim Square, in Brazil, the Arab Spring, something is happening, something real, I think there’s a chance for things really to change. I felt this too, it wasn’t to challenge her that I asked what she thought that change would be. She shrugged. I’m not sure, she said, but I feel like we’ll figure it out. She paused. I feel powerful in a way I never have before, she said, and then she glanced at me and laughed, I feel like one of the opalchentsi on Shipka. These were Bulgarian volunteers who fought with the Russians against the Ottomans, there was a poem about them by Ivan Vazov that every Bulgarian knew; I had heard a poet declaim it once, drunk at a dinner party, the room quiet with reverence. I feel the power of the people, she said gingerly, cringing at the cliché.

• From Cleanness (2020)

  I remembered every note of the music, though I hadn’t heard it for years. I must have been fourteen when I bought the CD, a London double set I picked out because of a single name, a soprano I knew my teacher adored, already I wanted to imitate him in everything. I remember falling asleep to the soldier’s arias as sung by a tenor whose voice, which I’ve never found on another recording, was beautiful and light-bodied and pure, embodying my every ambition; as I listened to him I imagined the life my own voice would lead me to, scrubbed of shame. It didn’t matter that the performance in Veliko Turnovo was poor; as I sat beside R. I felt that hope again. I was overcome by feeling for him, and it was painful not to touch him, even to reach my hand to his. Caution had become an instinct, and even here, if there wasn’t actual danger I could imagine the discomfort any display of affection would cause. But we had our repertoire of covert gestures, the brushed elbow or knee, the slight pressure of a foot, and we made use of them as the night deepened and the air chilled and the ruins stood out more eerily in the lights. Looking at them I felt, with a force beyond the figures of my children’s history, beyond any history at all, how ancient the place was; it was a battlefield we sat on, every inch of the ground had been steeped in blood, it must still be in the chemistry of the soil.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  CHRYSOSTOM. (ubi sup.) This, however, the greater portion of the seed is not lost through the fault of the owner, but of the earth, which received it, that is, of the soul, which hears. And indeed the real husbandman, if he sowed in this way, would be rightly blamed; for he is not ignorant that rock, or the road, or thorny ground, cannot become fertile. But in spiritual things it is not so; for there it is possible that stony ground may become fertile; and that the road should not be trodden down, and that the thorns may be destroyed, for if this could not take place, he would not have sown there. By this therefore He gives to us hope of repentance. It goes on, And he said unto them, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. BEDE. (ubi sup.) As often as this is inserted in the Gospel or in the Apocalypse of John, that which is spoken is mystical, and is pointed out as healthful to be heard and learnt. For the ears by which they are heard belong to the heart, and the ears by which men obey and do what is commanded, are those of an interior sense. There follows, And when he was alone, the twelve that were with him asked of him the parable; and he said unto them, Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God, but to them that are without all things are done in parables. PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. (Vict. Ant. c Cat. in Marc.) As if He said unto them, You that are worthy to be taught all things which are fitted for teaching, shall learn the manifestation of parables; but I use parables with them who are unworthy to learn, because of their wickedness. For it was right that they who did not hold fast their obedience to that law which they had received, should not have any share in a new teaching, but should be estranged from both; for He shewed by the obedience of His disciples, that, on the other hand, the others were become unworthy of mystical doctrine. But afterwards, by bringing in a voice from prophecy, He confounds their wickedness, as having been long before reproved; wherefore it goes on, that seeing they might see, and not perceive, &c. (Isa. 6:9) as if He said, that the prophecy might be fulfilled which foretells these things. THEOPHYLACT. For it was God Who made them to see, that is, to understand what is good. But they themselves see not, of their own will making themselves not to see, lest they should be converted and correct themselves, as if they were displeased at their own salvation. It goes on, Lest at any time they should be converted, and their sins be forgiven them.

• From Stripped: Las Vegas (2021)

  So, always try to make the best decision for you. [upbeat music] - So one thing about stripping, I always say it has a shelf life. Milk has an expiration date. You gotta get out while you're still good, before you expire. You don't wanna be the girl that they threw you out. [laughs] You definitely wanna be the girl that said, okay, I'm done [laughs], you're welcome [laughs]. [dramatic music] [crickets chirping] [traffic droning] - It's really cool to see that some of the life is coming back into Vegas. Some of the casinos are open. Clubs are opening up. People are out on the streets, the streets aren't empty anymore. There is a sense of hope that this city is resilient and strong and that things will come back. Vegas will be Vegas again. It'll be full of people, packed clubs, all of that. And a pandemic that's put the world to its knees still can't get Vegas down. [dramatic music]

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  As simple as this seems, her calm, centered presence gave me a slight glimmer of hope that things might turn out OK. Such soothing support in the midst of chaos is a critical element that trauma therapists must provide for their unsettled and troubled clients. This truly is the starting point for one’s return to equilibrium. The therapist must, in other words, help to create an environment of relative safety, an atmosphere that conveys refuge, hope and possibility. For traumatized individuals, this can be a very delicate task. Fortunately, given propitious conditions, the human nervous system is designed and attuned both to receive and to offer a regulating influence to another person. 53 Thankfully, biology is on our side. This transference of succor, our mammalian birthright, is fostered by the therapeutic tone and working alliance you create by tuning in to your client’s sensibilities. With the therapist’s calm secure center, relaxed alertness, compassionate containment and evident patience, the client’s distress begins to lessen. However minimally, his or her willingness to explore is prompted, encouraged and owned. While resistance will inevitably appear, it will soften and recede with the holding environment created by the skilled therapist. One possible roadblock, however, happens between sessions; when they are without their therapist’s calm, regulating presence, clients may feel raw and thrown back into the lion’s den of chaotic sensations when exposed to the same triggers that overwhelmed them in the first place. The therapist who provides only a sense of safety (no matter how effectively) will only make the client increasingly dependent—and thus will increase the imbalance of power between therapist and client. To avoid such sabotage, the next steps are aimed at helping the client move toward establishing his or her own agency and capacity for mastering self-soothing and feelings of empowerment and self-regulation. Step 2. Support initial exploration and acceptance of sensation Traumatized individuals have lost both their way in the world and the vital guidance of their inner promptings. Cut off from the primal sensations, instincts and feelings arising from the interior of their bodies, they are unable to orient to the “here and now.” Therapists must be able to help clients navigate the labyrinth of trauma by helping them find their way home to their bodily sensations and capacity to self-soothe. To become self-regulating and authentically autonomous, traumatized individuals must ultimately learn to access, tolerate and utilize their inner sensations. It would, however, be unwise to have one attempt a sustained focus on one’s body without adequate preparation.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Objection 2: Further, it is impossible to enter by a closed door before it be opened. But a dying man can enter heaven before making his confession. Therefore confession does not open Paradise. On the contrary, Confession makes a man submit to the keys of the Church. But Paradise is opened by those keys. Therefore it is opened by confession. I answer that, Guilt and the debt of punishment prevent a man from entering into Paradise: and since confession removes these obstacles, as shown above ([4850]AA[1],2), it is said to open Paradise. Reply to Objection 1: Although Baptism and Penance are different sacraments, they act in virtue of Christ’s one Passion, whereby a way was opened unto Paradise. Reply to Objection 2: If the dying man was in mortal sin Paradise was closed to him before he conceived the desire to confess his sin, although afterwards it was opened by contrition implying a desire for confession, even before he actually confessed. Nevertheless the obstacle of the debt of punishment was not entirely removed before confession and satisfaction. Whether confession gives hope of salvation?Objection 1: It would seem that hope of salvation should not be reckoned an effect of confession. For hope arises from all meritorious acts. Therefore, seemingly, it is not the proper effect of confession. Objection 2: Further, we arrive at hope through tribulation, as appears from Rom. 5:3,4. Now man suffers tribulation chiefly in satisfaction. Therefore, satisfaction rather than confession gives hope of salvation. On the contrary, ” Confession makes a man more humble and more wary,” as the Master states in the text (Sent. iv, D, 17). But the result of this is that man conceives a hope of salvation. Therefore it is the effect of confession to give hope of salvation. I answer that, We can have no hope for the forgiveness of our sins except through Christ: and since by confession a man submits to the keys of the Church which derive their power from Christ’s Passion, therefore do we say that confession gives hope of salvation. Reply to Objection 1: It is not our actions, but the grace of our Redeemer, that is the principal cause of the hope of salvation: and since confession relies upon the grace of our Redeemer, it gives hope of salvation, not only as a meritorious act, but also as part of a sacrament. Reply to Objection 2: Tribulation gives hope of salvation, by making us exercise our own virtue, and by paying off the debt of punishment: while confession does so also in the way mentioned above. Whether a general confession suffices to blot out forgotten mortal sins?Objection 1: It would seem that a general confession does not suffice to blot out forgotten mortal sins. For there is no necessity to confess again a sin which has been blotted out by confession. If, therefore, forgotten sins were forgiven by a general confession, there would be no need to confess them when they are called to mind.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Since then in order of generation or execution, proportion or aptitude to the end precedes the achievement of the end; it follows that, of all the irascible passions, anger is the last in the order of generation. And among the other passions of the irascible faculty, which imply a movement arising from love of good or hatred of evil, those whose object is good, viz. hope and despair, must naturally precede those whose object is evil, viz. daring and fear: yet so that hope precedes despair; since hope is a movement towards good as such, which is essentially attractive, so that hope tends to good directly; whereas despair is a movement away from good, a movement which is consistent with good, not as such, but in respect of something else, wherefore its tendency from good is accidental, as it were. In like manner fear, through being a movement from evil, precedes daring. And that hope and despair naturally precede fear and daring is evident from this—that as the desire of good is the reason for avoiding evil, so hope and despair are the reason for fear and daring: because daring arises from the hope of victory, and fear arises from the despair of overcoming. Lastly, anger arises from daring: for no one is angry while seeking vengeance, unless he dare to avenge himself, as Avicenna observes in the sixth book of his Physics. Accordingly, it is evident that hope is the first of all the irascible passions. And if we wish to know the order of all the passions in the way of generation, love and hatred are first; desire and aversion, second; hope and despair, third; fear and daring, fourth; anger, fifth; sixth and last, joy and sadness, which follow from all the passions, as stated in Ethic. ii, 5: yet so that love precedes hatred; desire precedes aversion; hope precedes despair; fear precedes daring; and joy precedes sadness, as may be gathered from what has been stated above. Reply to Objection 1: Because anger arises from the other passions, as an effect from the causes that precede it, it is from anger, as being more manifest than the other passions, that the power takes its name. Reply to Objection 2: It is not the arduousness but the good that is the reason for approach or desire. Consequently hope, which regards good more directly, takes precedence: although at times daring or even anger regards something more arduous. Reply to Objection 3: The movement of the appetite is essentially and directly towards the good as towards its proper object; its movement from evil results from this. For the movement of the appetitive part is in proportion, not to natural movement, but to the intention of nature, which intends the end before intending the removal of a contrary, which removal is desired only for the sake of obtaining the end.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  On the contrary, It is written (1 Cor. 9:10) that “he that plougheth should plough in hope . . . to receive fruit”: and the same applies to all other actions. I answer that, Hope of its very nature is a help to action by making it more intense: and this for two reasons. First, by reason of its object, which is a good, difficult but possible. For the thought of its being difficult arouses our attention; while the thought that it is possible is no drag on our effort. Hence it follows that by reason of hope man is intent on his action. Secondly, on account of its effect. Because hope, as stated above ([1363]Q[32], A[3]), causes pleasure; which is a help to action, as stated above ([1364]Q[33], A[4]). Therefore hope is conducive to action. Reply to Objection 1: Hope regards a good to be obtained; security regards an evil to be avoided. Wherefore security seems to be contrary to fear rather than to belong to hope. Yet security does not beget negligence, save in so far as it lessens the idea of difficulty: whereby it also lessens the character of hope: for the things in which a man fears no hindrance, are no longer looked upon as difficult. Reply to Objection 2: Hope of itself causes pleasure; it is by accident that it causes sorrow, as stated above ([1365]Q[32], A[3], ad 2). Reply to Objection 3: Despair threatens danger in war, on account of a certain hope that attaches to it. For they who despair of flight, strive less to fly, but hope to avenge their death: and therefore in this hope they fight the more bravely, and consequently prove dangerous to the foe. OF FEAR, IN ITSELF (FOUR ARTICLES)We must now consider, in the first place, fear; and, secondly, daring. With regard to fear, four things must be considered: (1) Fear, in itself; (2) Its object; (3) Its cause; (4) Its effect. Under the first head there are four points of inquiry: (1) Whether fear is a passion of the soul? (2) Whether fear is a special passion? (3) Whether there is a natural fear? (4) Of the species of fear. Whether fear is a passion of the soul?Objection 1: It would seem that fear is not a passion of the soul. For Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii, 23) that “fear is a power, by way of {systole}”—i.e. of contraction—“desirous of vindicating nature.” But no virtue is a passion, as is proved in Ethic. ii, 5. Therefore fear is not a passion. Objection 2: Further, every passion is an effect due to the presence of an agent. But fear is not of something present, but of something future, as Damascene declares (De Fide Orth. ii, 12). Therefore fear is not a passion.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that, Expounders of Holy Writ are not agreed in speaking of these rewards. For some, with Ambrose (Super Luc. v), hold that all these rewards refer to the life to come; while Augustine (De Serm. Dom. in Monte i, 4) holds them to refer to the present life; and Chrysostom in his homilies (In Matth. xv) says that some refer to the future, and some to the present life. In order to make the matter clear we must take note that hope of future happiness may be in us for two reasons. First, by reason of our having a preparation for, or a disposition to future happiness; and this is by way of merit; secondly, by a kind of imperfect inchoation of future happiness in holy men, even in this life. For it is one thing to hope that the tree will bear fruit, when the leaves begin to appear, and another, when we see the first signs of the fruit. Accordingly, those things which are set down as merits in the beatitudes, are a kind of preparation for, or disposition to happiness, either perfect or inchoate: while those that are assigned as rewards, may be either perfect happiness, so as to refer to the future life, or some beginning of happiness, such as is found in those who have attained perfection, in which case they refer to the present life. Because when a man begins to make progress in the acts of the virtues and gifts, it is to be hoped that he will arrive at perfection, both as a wayfarer, and as a citizen of the heavenly kingdom. Reply to Objection 1: Hope regards future happiness as the last end: yet it may also regard the assistance of grace as that which leads to that end, according to Ps. 27:7: “In Him hath my heart hoped, and I have been helped.” Reply to Objection 2: Although sometimes the wicked do not undergo temporal punishment in this life, yet they suffer spiritual punishment. Hence Augustine says (Confess. i): “Thou hast decreed, and it is so, Lord—that the disordered mind should be its own punishment.” The Philosopher, too, says of the wicked (Ethic. ix, 4) that “their soul is divided against itself . . . one part pulls this way, another that”; and afterwards he concludes, saying: “If wickedness makes a man so miserable, he should strain every nerve to avoid vice.” In like manner, although, on the other hand, the good sometimes do not receive material rewards in this life, yet they never lack spiritual rewards, even in this life, according to Mat. 19:29, and Mk. 10:30: “Ye shall receive a hundred times as much” even “in this time.”

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Objection 2: Further, it is impossible to enter by a closed door before it be opened. But a dying man can enter heaven before making his confession. Therefore confession does not open Paradise. On the contrary, Confession makes a man submit to the keys of the Church. But Paradise is opened by those keys. Therefore it is opened by confession. I answer that, Guilt and the debt of punishment prevent a man from entering into Paradise: and since confession removes these obstacles, as shown above ([4850]AA[1],2), it is said to open Paradise. Reply to Objection 1: Although Baptism and Penance are different sacraments, they act in virtue of Christ’s one Passion, whereby a way was opened unto Paradise. Reply to Objection 2: If the dying man was in mortal sin Paradise was closed to him before he conceived the desire to confess his sin, although afterwards it was opened by contrition implying a desire for confession, even before he actually confessed. Nevertheless the obstacle of the debt of punishment was not entirely removed before confession and satisfaction. Whether confession gives hope of salvation?Objection 1: It would seem that hope of salvation should not be reckoned an effect of confession. For hope arises from all meritorious acts. Therefore, seemingly, it is not the proper effect of confession. Objection 2: Further, we arrive at hope through tribulation, as appears from Rom. 5:3,4. Now man suffers tribulation chiefly in satisfaction. Therefore, satisfaction rather than confession gives hope of salvation. On the contrary, ” Confession makes a man more humble and more wary,” as the Master states in the text (Sent. iv, D, 17). But the result of this is that man conceives a hope of salvation. Therefore it is the effect of confession to give hope of salvation. I answer that, We can have no hope for the forgiveness of our sins except through Christ: and since by confession a man submits to the keys of the Church which derive their power from Christ’s Passion, therefore do we say that confession gives hope of salvation. Reply to Objection 1: It is not our actions, but the grace of our Redeemer, that is the principal cause of the hope of salvation: and since confession relies upon the grace of our Redeemer, it gives hope of salvation, not only as a meritorious act, but also as part of a sacrament. Reply to Objection 2: Tribulation gives hope of salvation, by making us exercise our own virtue, and by paying off the debt of punishment: while confession does so also in the way mentioned above. Whether a general confession suffices to blot out forgotten mortal sins?Objection 1: It would seem that a general confession does not suffice to blot out forgotten mortal sins. For there is no necessity to confess again a sin which has been blotted out by confession. If, therefore, forgotten sins were forgiven by a general confession, there would be no need to confess them when they are called to mind.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  Invariably, I’m asked if my book offers a solution. What can people do? Hidden behind this question looms a secret longing for the élan vital, the surge of erotic energy that marks our aliveness. Whatever safety and security people have persuaded themselves to settle for, they still very much want this force in their lives. So I’ve become acutely attuned to the moment when all these ruminations about the inevitable loss of passion turn into expressions of hope. The real questions are these: Can we have both love and desire in the same relationship over time? How? What exactly would that kind of relationship be? The Anchor and the Wave Call me an idealist, but I believe that love and desire are not mutually exclusive, they just don’t always take place at the same time. In fact, security and passion are two separate, fundamental human needs that spring from different motives and tend to pull us in different directions. In his book Can Love Last? the infinitely thoughtful psychoanalyst Stephen Mitchell offers a framework for thinking about this conundrum. As he explains it, we all need security: permanence, reliability, stability, and continuity. These rooting, nesting instincts ground us in our human experience. But we also have a need for novelty and change, generative forces that give life fullness and vibrancy. Here risk and adventure loom large. We’re walking contradictions, seeking safety and predictability on one hand and thriving on diversity on the other. Ever watch a child run away to explore and then run right back to make sure that Mom and Dad are still there? Little Sammy needs to feel secure in order to go into the world and discover; and once he has satisfied his need for exploration, he wants to go back to his safe base to reconnect. It’s a sport he’ll come back to as an adult, culminating in the games of eros. Periods of being bold and taking risks will alternate with periods of seeking grounding and safety. He may fluctuate, though he’ll generally settle on one preference over another. And what is true for human beings is true for every living thing: all organisms require alternating periods of growth and equilibrium. Any person or system exposed to ceaseless novelty and change risks falling into chaos; but one that is too rigid or static ceases to grow and eventually dies. This never-ending dance between change and stability is like the anchor and the waves. Adult relationships mirror these dynamics all too well. We seek a steady, reliable anchor in our partner. Yet at the same time we expect love to offer a transcendent experience that will allow us to soar beyond our ordinary lives. The challenge for modern couples lies in reconciling the need for what’s safe and predictable with the wish to pursue what’s exciting, mysterious, and awe-inspiring.

• From Cleanness (2020)

  He was one of the first friends I had made in Bulgaria, a journalist and a poet, an alumnus of the school where I taught. We had met at some function where he was held up as an example, since after college and graduate school in the States he had decided to come back, as almost none of our students ever did; if you came back it meant you had failed, our students thought, but D. hadn’t failed, it was an important example. The boulevard was blocked off after the intersection with Rakovski and we spilled out into the street, which was already full of people, as was the square in front of the Presidency. This had yellow police barricades in front of it but was otherwise protected only by the usual ornamental guard, two men in nineteenth-century uniforms staring blankly and unfazed, bayonets held stiffly at their sides. The police were gathered across the boulevard, in front of the former Communist Party headquarters, which served as Parliament offices now and where there was a much larger space kept free from protesters, the distance a bottle could be thrown, I thought—but they were relaxed, most of them held their helmets under their arms. Their riot shields were stacked in piles leaning against the bus they had traveled in on, the size of an American schoolbus, painted blue and white. They were smiling and talking with one another, with the protesters, toward whom they had expressed a benevolent neutrality, claiming in public statements that they were keeping the protests safe, that so long as they remained peaceful they had no intention of putting a stop to them; and the protesters reciprocated, one man stood now in front of them with a sign that read WE THANK OUR FRIENDS THE POLICE . The hope was that by saying it one could make it so, I thought, and so far the hope had held. Interspersed among the crowd were large white vans, teams of newscasters; cameramen stood on their roofs, next to the satellite dishes, scanning the crowd. People were milling about, many of them holding their signs above their heads to block the sun; it could have been a fair, almost, the crowd was bright with balloons, with spinning pinwheels children waved, with the sounds of whistles and handheld drums. Near the fountain, in the shade of a tree, a man had set out a table with these trinkets, most of all with the little Bulgarian flags that he held out to passersby, calling out po levche sa , one lev each. There were other street vendors, too; the air was sweet with roasted walnuts, and people were carrying little plastic bags of sunflower seeds, bottles of water still sweating with condensation.

• From Cleanness (2020)

  I wondered if any recordings of their younger voices had survived; I could only guess, from the moments of resonance, the few ringing tones, at the mastery they had once possessed. That mastery must grow feebler by the day, I thought, it must be painful to feel it go. But it was Lakmé herself who mattered most, she had almost the only music in the opera worth hearing: the flower duet, which everyone knows and which has gone dull with repetition, and the bell song, when her father forces her to sing to the point of collapse, the music demanding the athleticism and suffering opera has always expected of its heroines. The soprano in the role was the only singer who was very young, in her twenties, a woman at the start of her career; she was a pleasure to watch, lovely and thin and with a pretty voice that was affectingly pure, maybe too untested for the role, so that the line between character and singer blurred and I was worried for her in the final bars of her big scene. I remembered every note of the music, though I hadn’t heard it for years. I must have been fourteen when I bought the CD, a London double set I picked out because of a single name, a soprano I knew my teacher adored, already I wanted to imitate him in everything. I remember falling asleep to the soldier’s arias as sung by a tenor whose voice, which I’ve never found on another recording, was beautiful and light-bodied and pure, embodying my every ambition; as I listened to him I imagined the life my own voice would lead me to, scrubbed of shame. It didn’t matter that the performance in Veliko Turnovo was poor; as I sat beside R. I felt that hope again. I was overcome by feeling for him, and it was painful not to touch him, even to reach my hand to his. Caution had become an instinct, and even here, if there wasn’t actual danger I could imagine the discomfort any display of affection would cause. But we had our repertoire of covert gestures, the brushed elbow or knee, the slight pressure of a foot, and we made use of them as the night deepened and the air chilled and the ruins stood out more eerily in the lights.

• From This Boy's Life: A Memoir (1989)

  He gave me Cokes to drink while he explained what the various parts of the car were and what he planned to do with them. I nodded as if I understood, and really believed that one day this mess would put itself together again. Though Skipper was supposed to start at the University of Washington in September, he didn’t give any sign of leaving. Dwight began to ride him. He wanted to know where Skipper expected to live, and how he was going to pay for his education. He wanted to know what the plan was. Skipper said he had it all worked out. Dwight kept at him, but Skipper just smiled his polite uninterested smile and did as he pleased. And then, late that summer, the car began to come together just as Skipper had said it would. I was in the shed the night he and his friends put the rebuilt engine in. Skipper had installed racing carbs and bored out the cylinders to make it more powerful, then he’d had it chromed. It was beautiful. His friends wrestled it in with a block and tackle while Skipper shouted orders at them, and within an hour he had it roaring. The body looked beyond saving. It was dented, dull, and full of holes from the ornaments Skipper had stripped off. He leaded in the holes, fiberglassed the dents, laid on a coat of primer, sanded it smooth, and put on sixteen coats of candy-apple red lacquer paint. He fine-sanded each coat before adding the next. It took him over a month, and by the time he was done the paint had such clarity and depth it was like looking into a glaze of thick red ice. The lines of the car were fluid, clean; he had been right to take off the ornaments. Once the painting was done Skipper put on new whitewall tires with chrome hubcaps, not the flipper hubcaps that were in fashion then but simple globes as bright as. mirrors. Along the sides, under the doors, he hung chrome Laker exhaust pipes that bent out slightly at the end as if to cough the smoke discreetly away from the car. He put a rechromed bumper in front and attached a Continental kit to the rear end—an unusually long bumper with an external case for the spare tire. It was cherry. The only thing that needed fixing was the interior. Skipper told me he had just enough money left to take the car down to Tijuana and have it upholstered there. He was going to have it done in white leather, tucked, rolled, and pleated. When I asked him if I could come along he told me he’d think about it. I thought he was serious. I thought that he would actually consider taking me with him, and since I could imagine no reasonable argument against my going I assumed that he couldn’t either. It was as good as decided.

• From This Boy's Life: A Memoir (1989)

  By the time we got there, quite a few people were standing along the cliff where the truck went over. It had smashed through the guardrails and fallen hundreds of feet through empty space to the river below, where it lay on its back among the boulders. It looked pitifully small. A stream of thick black smoke rose from the cab, feathering out in the wind. My mother asked whether anyone had gone to report the accident. Someone had. We stood with the others at the cliff’s edge. Nobody spoke. My mother put her arm around my shoulder. For the rest of the day she kept looking over at me, touching me, brushing back my hair. I saw that the time was right to make a play for souvenirs. I knew she had no money for them, and I had tried not to ask, but now that her guard was down I couldn’t help myself. When we pulled out of Grand Junction I owned a beaded Indian belt, beaded moccasins, and a bronze horse with a removable, tooled-leather saddle. IT WAS 1955 and we were driving from Florida to Utah, to get away from a man my mother was afraid of and to get rich on uranium. We were going to change our luck. We’d left Sarasota in the dead of summer, right after my tenth birthday, and headed West under low flickering skies that turned black and exploded and cleared just long enough to leave the air gauzy with steam. We drove through Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, stopping to cool the engine in towns where people moved with arthritic slowness and spoke in thick, strangled tongues. Idlers with rotten teeth surrounded the car to press peanuts on the pretty Yankee lady and her little boy, arguing among themselves about shortcuts. Women looked up from their flower beds as we drove past, or watched us from their porches, sometimes impassively, sometimes giving us a nod and a flutter of their fans. Every couple of hours the Nash Rambler boiled over. My mother kept digging into her little grubstake but no mechanic could fix it. All we could do was wait for it to cool, then drive on until it boiled over again. (My mother came to hate this machine so much that not long after we got to Utah she gave it away to a woman she met in a cafeteria.) At night we slept in boggy rooms where headlight beams crawled up and down the walls and mosquitoes sang in our ears, incessant as the tires whining on the highway outside. But none of this bothered me. I was caught up in my mother’s freedom, her delight in her freedom, her dream of transformation. Everything was going to change when we got out West. My mother had been a girl in Beverly Hills, and the life we saw ahead of us was conjured from her memories of California in the days before the Crash.

• From Momma and the Meaning of Life (1999)

  My first step was to move the members into a circle and to ask the three residents to sit behind the patients, out of their immediate line of vision. I started the meeting in my usual manner by attempting to orient the members to group therapy. I introduced myself, suggested we use first names, and informed them that I would be there for the next four days. “After that, the two residents”—whom I named and pointed out—”will lead the group. The group’s purpose,” I went on, “is to help each of you learn more about your relationships with others.” As I glanced at the human devastation before me—Martin’s withered limbs, Carol’s death-mask grin, the intravenous bottles feeding Rosa and Carol the vital nutrients they refused to take by mouth, Dorothy’s urine bottle holding the urine siphoned from her paralyzed bladder, Magnolia’s paralyzed legs—my words seemed puny and foolish. These people needed so much, and “help with relationships” seemed so pitifully little. But what was the point of pretending that groups could do more than they could? Remember your mantra, I kept reminding myself: small is beautiful. Small is beautiful—small goals, small successes. I referred to my inpatient group as the “agenda group” because I always began a meeting by asking each member to formulate an agenda—to identify some aspect of themselves that they wished to change. The group worked better if its members’ agendas pertained to relationship skills—especially to something that could be worked on in the here-and-now of the group. Patients who were hospitalized for major life problems were always puzzled by the focus on relationships and failed to see the relevance of the agenda task. I always answered, “I know that troubled relationships may not have been the reason for your hospitalization, but I’ve found over the years that everyone who has encountered significant psychological distress can profit by improving their mode of relating to others. The important point is that we can get the most out of this meeting by focusing on relationships because that’s what groups do best. That’s the real strength of group therapy.” Formulating a suitable agenda was difficult, and even after attending a few sessions, most group members rarely got the hang of it. But I told them not to sweat it: “My job is to help you.” Still, the process generally consumed up to 50 percent of the meeting time. After that I would devote the rest of the time to addressing as many agendas as possible. The demarcation between formulating and addressing an agenda is not always sharp. For some patients, forming an agenda was the therapy. To learn simply to identify a problem and to ask for help was therapy enough for many in our brief time together.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  I can think of a number of things that I could suggest to this couple, joining them in their practical approach to the problem of diminishing desire. But I question the rationalist approach in matters of the heart. I think that the challenge of sustaining eros in a committed relationship over time is of a different nature. We don’t always know our aims in advance. Our desires are not exempt from conflict; nor are our passions free of contradictions. No amount of will or reason can dictate our love dreams. Reason doesn’t know the roots of our dreams; nor does it know the mysterious needs of the heart. We can’t always use the laws of profit and loss in our romantic and erotic lives. Applying the work ethos is tricky. Even the most logical approach cannot neutralize the ambivalence of love. I tell Ryan and Christine, “I have nothing new to offer in the ‘how to’ department. You’ve had dates, you’ve been burning incense, you’ve cracked into the Astroglide. And it’s landed you a steady diet of sex that’s satisfactory without being really satisfying. Do I get it?” “Yes, you get it, but what are you saying? That that’s it? Like the song, ‘Is That All There Is?’” Christine asks. “There’s no logic to this. Passion is unpredictable; it doesn’t follow the dictates of cause and effect. What works on Monday might not work on Thursday. The solution is often a surprise, not the result of the kind of work you’ve been doing until now. So let’s not talk about work. Instead, let’s talk about freedom. Play.” “Huh?” “Try something with me,” I suggest to them. “It may seem off the beaten path; but since your path has become a dead end, you may as well give it a shot. What rigidifies desire is confinement. I’d like you to think about its opposite: freedom. Talk about it in the broad sense. When do you feel most free in your relationship? In what ways does being married make you more free, and in what ways does it make you less free? How much freedom are you comfortable giving each other? Giving yourselves?” I start the conversation in my office in the hope that they’ll continue it on their own. I like to make suggestions that might jolt people out of their complacency, or at least bring about a different way of thinking. I try to create some discomfort with the status quo. Although Ryan and Christine are unhappy with their situation, I’m not sure if they’re unhappy enough to brave change. In therapy I throw out a lot of ideas, never knowing where they’ll land or if they’ll take root. I let the idea of freedom sit for a while, to see if it will sprout.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  He looked perplexed. “Oh, I didn’t notice those flowers before—or the table they’re on.” Almost like the inquisitive expression of someone coming out of a coma, his face showed another minute flickering of awakening. He looked around noticing an oriental carpet and a painting. “They have colors, rich colors,” he said innocently. “So as you look at those colors, I want you to find the place inside of your body that can feel—even, just the tiniest bit, those colors.” k He looked back at me with a puzzled expression, perhaps awaiting further instructions. But then he closed his eyes and went inside. “It feels warmer in my belly, and the circle, it’s growing bigger in size.” After a few moments I asked him to stand again: “Adam, I’m going to ask you to do something that might seem strange … I’m going to ask you to visualize the picture of the children with their kites … Feel your feet on the ground and how your legs support you. Now feel your arms as you hold the kite string … and imagine that you are there in the field with the children. ” Adam responded almost gleefully, “I can feel that in my arms and in my belly … It’s even warmer and bigger … I can see the colors; they are bright and warm … I see the kites dancing in the clouds.” After a few quiet moments Adam sat down and looked around the room. “Take all the time you need, Adam … Just feel the rhythm of that … of the inside and the outside.” l His eyes went back and forth between the table with the flowers and the painting. He focused on the table and started to describe the color and grain of the wood as warm … he paused … “like the warm feeling inside.” He closed his eyes again, without my instruction this time, rested for a bit and then opened them slowly and turned toward me, unabashedly looking into my eyes. This was the first time that Adam’s social engagement system (see Chapter 6 ) had awakened and come online. Adam’s body showed some tentative aliveness; his drooping face assumed a colorful, almost vibrant, tone, and his stooped posture extended and straightened. Adam was like a tightly curled, newborn banana leaf turning and reaching toward the sun, confiding in its warmth as it slowly unfurls itself. He was in wonder of the room—as though seeing it for the first time. He looked at his hands and then gently held the fingers of one hand in the other. He then moved his hands to his upper arms and held his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. It was as though he were holding and nurturing himself.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  When we ignore our “gut instincts,” it is at our own great expense, if not peril. In states of immobilization and shutdown, the sensations in our guts are so dreadful that we routinely block them from consciousness. But this strategy of “absence” only maintains the status quo at best, keeping both brain and body hopelessly stuck in an information traffic jam. It is a recipe for trauma and a diminished life, a cardboard existence. The following is another simple exit strategy for undoing the brain/gut knot. An Effective Sound: “Voo” The first seat of our primal consciousness is the solar plexus, the great nerve-centre situated behind the stomach. From this centre we are first dynamically conscious. —D. H. Lawrence, Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious Along with multitudes of other people, I have experienced various chanting and ancient “sounding” practices that facilitate healing and help open the “doors of perception.” Singing and chanting are used in religious and spiritual ceremonies among every culture for “lightening the load” of earthly existence. When you open up to chant or sing in deep, resonant lower belly tones, you also open up your chest (heart and lungs), mouth and throat, pleasurably stimulating the many serpentine branches of the vagus nerve. u Certain Tibetan chants have been used successfully for thousands of years. In my practice, I use a sound borrowed (with certain modifications) from some of these chants. This sound opens, expands and vibrates the viscera in a way that provides new signals to a shut-down or overstimulated nervous system. The practice is quite simple: make an extended “voooo …” (soft o , like ou in you) sound, focusing on the vibrations stimulated in the belly as you complete a full expiration of breath. In introducing the “voo” sound to my clients, I often ask them to imagine a foghorn in a foggy bay sounding through the murk to alert ship captains that they are nearing land, and to guide them safely home . This image works on different levels. First of all, the image of the fog represents the fog of numbness and dissociation. The foghorn represents the beacon that guides the lost boat (soul) back to safe harbor, to home in breath and belly. This image also inspires the client to take on the hero role of protecting sailors and passengers from imminent danger, as well as giving him or her permission to be silly and thereby play. Most important are the image’s physiological effects. The sound vibrations of “voo” enliven sensations from the viscera, while the full expiration of the breath produces the optimal balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide. 77 Begin the exercise by finding a comfortable place to sit. Then slowly inhale, pause momentarily, and then, on the out breath, gently utter “voo,” sustaining the sound throughout the entire exhalation. Vibrate the sound as though it were coming from your belly.