Joy

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 Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  So onward and upward, with renewed spirits. It’ll all work out, because I’m determined to write! Yours, Anne M. Frank THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 1944 Dearest Kitty, You asked me what my hobbies and interests are and I’d like to answer, but I’d better warn you, I have lots of them, so don’t be surprised. First of all: writing, but I don’t really think of that as a hobby. Number two: genealogical charts. I’m looking in every newspaper, book and document I can find for the family trees of the French, German, Spanish, English, Austrian, Russian, Norwegian and Dutch royal famthes. I’ve made great progress with many of them, because for ! a long time I’ve been taking notes while reading biogra- I, phies or history books. I even copy out many of the passages on history. So my third hobby is history, and Father’s already bought me numerous books. I can hardly wait for the day when I’ll be able to go to the public library and ferret out Iii the information I need. Number four is Greek and Roman mythology. I have various books on this subject too. I can name the nine Muses and the seven loves of Zeus. I have the wives of Hercules, etc., etc., down pat. My other hobbies are movie stars and family photographs. I’m crazy about reading and books. I adore the history of the arts, especially when it concerns writers, poets and painters; musicians may come later. I loathe algebra, geometry and arithmetic. I enjoy all my other school subjects, but history’s my favorite! Yours, Anne M. Frank TUESDAY, APRIL 11, 1944 My dearest Kitty,

• From The Decameron (1353)

  In the course of the following day, the princess dismissed her ladies-in-waiting on the pretext of wanting to sleep, and having locked herself in her chamber, she opened the door and descended into the cavern, where she found Guiscardo waiting. After giving each other a rapturous greeting, they made their way into her chamber, where they spent a goodly portion of the day in transports of bliss. Before parting, they agreed on the wisest way of pursuing their lovemaking in future so that it should remain a secret, and then Guiscardo returned to the cavern, whilst the princess, having bolted the door behind him, came forth to rejoin her ladies-in-waiting. During the night, Guiscardo climbed back up the rope, made his way out through the aperture by which he had entered, and returned home. And now that he was conversant with the route, he began to make regular use of it. But their pleasure, being so immense and so continuous, attracted the envy of Fortune, who brought about a calamity, turning the joy of the two lovers into tears and sorrow. From time to time, Prince Tancredi was in the habit of going alone to visit his daughter, with whom he would stay and converse for a while in her chamber and then go away. And one day, after breakfast, he came down to see her, entering her room without anyone hearing or noticing, only to discover that the princess (whose name was Ghismonda) had gone into her garden with all her ladies-in-waiting. Not wishing to disturb her whilst she was enjoying her walk in the garden, he sat down to wait for her on a low stool at a corner of her bed. The windows of the room were closed, and the bed-curtains had been drawn aside, and Tancredi rested his head against the side of the bed, drew the curtain round his body as though to conceal himself there on purpose, and fell asleep. Whilst he was asleep, Ghismonda, who unfortunately had made an appointment with Guiscardo for that very day, left her attendants in the garden and stole quietly into the room, locking herself in without perceiving that anyone was there. Having opened the door for Guiscardo, who was waiting for her, they then went to bed in the usual way; but whilst they were playing and cavorting together, Tancredi chanced to wake up, and heard and saw what Guiscardo and his daughter were doing. The sight filled him with dismay, and at first he wanted to cry out to them, but then he decided to hold his peace and, if possible, remain hidden, so that he could carry out, with greater prudence and less detriment to his honour, the plan of action that had already taken shape in his mind.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  That evening Mr. van Daan and Peter really told Dussel off. But it couldn’t have been all that bad, since Peter had another dental appointment today. Actually, they never wanted to speak to each other again. WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1944 Peter and I hadn’t talked to each other all day, except for a few meaningless words. It was too cold to go up to the attic, and anyway, it was Margot’s birthday. At twelve-thirty he came to look at the presents and hung around chatting longer than was strictly necessary, something he’d never have done otherwise. But I got my chance in the afternoon. Since I felt like spoiling Margot on her birthday, I went to get the coffee, and after that the potatoes. When I came to Peter’s room, he immediately took his papers off the stairs, and I asked if I should close the trapdoor to the attic. “Sure,” he said, “go ahead. When you’re ready to come back down, just knock and I’ll open it for you.” I thanked him, went upstairs and spent at least ten minutes searching around in the barrel for the smallest potatoes. My back started aching, and the attic was cold. Naturally, I didn’t bother to knock but opened the trap-door myself. But he obligingly got up and took the pan out of my hands. “I did my best, but I couldn’t find any smaller ones.” “Did you look in the big barrel?” “Yes, I’ve been through them all.” By this time I was at the bottom of the stairs, and he examined the pan of potatoes he was still holding. “Oh, but these are fine,” he said, and added, as I took the pan from him, “My compliments!” As he said this, he gave me such a warm, tender look that I started glowing inside. I could tell he wanted to please me, but since he couldn’t make a long complimentary speech, he said everything with his eyes. I understood him so well and was very grateful. It still makes me happy to think back to those words and that look!

• From The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (2001)

  On a walk I hate coming back the same way that I set out. I study maps in minute detail to find a new way of getting to some piece of countryside, an edifice or a curiosity I haven’t yet seen. When I went to Australia, the furthest I could get from home on this earth, I realised that my perception of this distance could be compared to the concept of having no sexual barriers. While I was thinking about this, I wondered whether the joy of parenthood belonged to the same family of emotions. Éric’s ideas were in the same vein as these thoughts; he so cleverly adapted and changed the form our evenings took in the same way that (and these are his words) a ‘tour operator’ would. What mattered, he would point out, was to ‘widen the available space’. 2. SpaceSurely someone ought to write a study of the reasons why, during the course of their careers, eminent art historians (such as André Chastel and Giulio Carlo Argan) have focused increasingly on architecture? How did their analysis of the space represented in a painting mutate into an analysis of the way real space is organized? In my role as an art critic I might have felt more inclined to follow their example if I had not come across modern and contemporary pictorial works which could be said to inhabit the cusp between an imaginary space and the space in which we live, be they Barnett Newman’s vast coloured expanses (Newman himself said: ‘I declare space’), the radiant blues in the work of Yves Klein (who called himself the ‘painter of space’), or even Alain Jacquet’s topological surfaces and objects which juxtapose paradoxical abysses. What characterises these works is not the fact that they open space up, but that they both open and seal it – Newman with his closing zips, Klein by crushing his anthropometric forms, Jacquet by binding the ends of a Mobius ring. If you allow yourself to be lead, it’s like the boundless inner surface of a lung.

• From The Diary of a Young Girl (The Definitive Edition) (2020)

  was sitting on my favorite spot on the floor. The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds glinting with silver as they swooped through the air, and we were so moved and entranced that we couldn’t speak. He stood with his head against a thick beam, while I sat. We breathed in the air, looked outside and both felt that the spell shouldn’t be broken with words. We remained like this for a long while, and by the time he had to go to the loft to chop wood, I knew he was a good, decent boy. He climbed the ladder to the loft, and I followed; during the fifteen minutes he was chopping wood, we didn’t say a word either. I watched him from where I was standing, and could see he was obviously doing his best to chop the right way and show off his strength. But I also looked out the open window, letting my eyes roam over a large part of Amsterdam, over the rooftops and on to the horizon, a strip of blue so pale it was almost invisible. “As long as this exists,” I thought, “this sunshine and this cloudless sky, and as long as I can enjoy it, how can I be sad?” The best remedy for those who are frightened, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere they can be alone, alone with the sky, nature and God. For then and only then can you feel that everything is as it should be and that God wants people to be happy amid nature’s beauty and simplicity. As long as this exists, and that should be forever, I know that there will be solace for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances. I firmly believe that nature can bring comfort to all who suffer. Oh, who knows, perhaps it won’t be long before I can share this overwhelming feeling of happiness with someone who feels the same as I do. Yours, Anne P.S. Thoughts: To Peter. We’ve been missing out on so much here, so very much, and for such a long time. I miss it just as much as you do. I’m not talking about external things, since we’re well provided for in that sense; I mean the internal things. Like you, I long for freedom and fresh air, but I think we’ve been amply compensated for their loss. On the inside, I mean. This morning, when I was sitting in front of the window and taking a long, deep

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  We have no idea how long it took Gotama to recover his health and attain the supreme enlightenment after he had devised this regimen. The Pali texts give the impression that it was a speedy process, but Gotama himself explained that it could take as long as seven years to achieve this incremental transformation. Gradually, the aspirant would learn to live without the selfish cravings that poison our lives and relationships, and would become less affected by these unruly yearnings. As he became aware of the ephemeral nature of these invasive thoughts, it became difficult to identify with them, and he became increasingly adept at monitoring the distractions that deprive us of peace.85 The texts depict Gotama attaining enlightenment in a single night, because they wanted to show the general contours of the process and were not interested in the historical details of the journey. But Gotama’s enlightenment was, almost certainly, no instant “born again” experience. He later warned his disciples that “in this method, training, discipline and practice take effect by slow degrees, with no sudden perception of the ultimate truth.”86 The traditional story has Gotama sitting down under a bodhi tree in a pleasant grove near the city of Uruvela, beside the Neranjara River. The Pali scriptures tell us that in the course of a single meditation, he gained an insight that changed him forever and was convinced that he had liberated himself from the cycle of rebirth.87 But there seems little that is new in this insight, usually formulated as the Four Noble Truths. Most renouncers would have agreed with the first three: that existence was dukkha, that desire was the cause of our suffering, and that there was a way out of this predicament. The fourth truth may have constituted the breakthrough: Gotama claimed that he had discovered the path that leads from suffering and pain to its cessation in nibbana. This path, traditionally called the Noble Eightfold Path, was a plan of action, consisting of morality (the cultivation of the “skillful” states), meditation, and the wisdom (panna) that enabled the aspirant to understand Gotama’s teaching “directly” through the practice of yoga and integrate it with his daily life. Gotama never claimed that the Noble Truths were unique, but that he was the first person in this historical era to have “realized” them and made them a reality in his own life. He found that he had extinguished the craving, hatred, and ignorance that hold humanity in thrall. He had reached nibbana, and even though he was still subject to physical ailments and other vicissitudes, nothing could touch this inner peace or cause him serious mental pain. His method had worked. “The holy life has been lived out to its conclusion!” he cried triumphantly at the end of his meditation under the bodhi tree. “What had to be done has been accomplished; there is nothing else to do!”88

• From The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (2001)

  In matters of dominance, I prefer straddling a man lying on his back. The position has little bearing on the way partners behave in role-play. When I was very young and wanted to be clever I used to call it the ‘Eiffel Tower position’. A tower straddling the river Seine, the Seine a torrent churning the tower like a tide. The piston movement up and down, the woman’s buttocks making a sharp little noise every time they smack down on the man’s thighs; the first convolutions of a belly dance, the calmest of movements adopted when you want to catch your breath or to prolong the fantasy; the tilting backwards and forwards, the fastest and – for me – most pleasurable movement… all this is almost as familiar to me as fellation. In both cases the woman controls the duration and the rhythm, which obviously gives her a double advantage: the dick reacts directly inside the cunt, and the woman’s body is revealed at a favourable angle, seen from below by the man. And it is gratifying every now and again to hear someone saying: ‘It’s you who’s fucking me… you fuck so well!’ You come and go on the rod like a well-oiled machine. Because of this ease and control if I close my eyes I can picture the rod in me as disproportionately big and strong because it so utterly fills a cavity which itself seems to have expanded to the size of my torso, and which having been well emptied of air is a perfect fit. It is also one of the positions in which a woman can best squeeze the thing by contracting the muscles in her vagina. These are like signals sent from afar, a way of letting the other know – while you are unashamedly making prodigious use of that which belongs to him – that still you are thinking of him. All of these manoeuvres are impossible if a woman sitting astride a man with her cunt fully occupied then opens up her arse to let a second man penetrate her. Two friends who used to skewer me like this claimed that they could feel each other’s dicks through my insides and that it was very exciting. I only ever half believed them. These relatively acrobatic positions, or positions like that one, which limit your movements in your attempts to maintain them, or even immobilise you altogether, these positions are more for show. You can amuse yourselves forming a group as models would have done at some Academy in the past, and the pleasure is fuelled more by the sight of these bodies which fit as neatly as pieces of Meccano, rather than the actual contact between them. Taken in a sandwich like that, I couldn’t see a great deal.

• From The Great Transformation (2006)

  The Pali texts give the impression that it was a speedy process, but Gotama himself explained that it could take as long as seven years to achieve this incremental transformation. Gradually, the aspirant would learn to live without the selfish cravings that poison our lives and relationships, and would become less affected by these unruly yearnings. As he became aware of the ephemeral nature of these invasive thoughts, it became difficult to identify with them, and he became increasingly adept at monitoring the distractions that deprive us of peace. 85 The texts depict Gotama attaining enlightenment in a single night, because they wanted to show the general contours of the process and were not interested in the historical details of the journey. But Gotama’s enlightenment was, almost certainly, no instant “born again” experience. He later warned his disciples that “in this method, training, discipline and practice take effect by slow degrees, with no sudden perception of the ultimate truth.” 86 The traditional story has Gotama sitting down under a bodhi tree in a pleasant grove near the city of Uruvela, beside the Neranjara River. The Pali scriptures tell us that in the course of a single meditation, he gained an insight that changed him forever and was convinced that he had liberated himself from the cycle of rebirth. 87 But there seems little that is new in this insight, usually formulated as the Four Noble Truths. Most renouncers would have agreed with the first three: that existence was dukkha, that desire was the cause of our suffering, and that there was a way out of this predicament. The fourth truth may have constituted the breakthrough: Gotama claimed that he had discovered the path that leads from suffering and pain to its cessation in nibbana. This path, traditionally called the Noble Eightfold Path, was a plan of action, consisting of morality (the cultivation of the “skillful” states), meditation, and the wisdom ( panna ) that enabled the aspirant to understand Gotama’s teaching “directly” through the practice of yoga and integrate it with his daily life. Gotama never claimed that the Noble Truths were unique, but that he was the first person in this historical era to have “realized” them and made them a reality in his own life. He found that he had extinguished the craving, hatred, and ignorance that hold humanity in thrall. He had reached nibbana, and even though he was still subject to physical ailments and other vicissitudes, nothing could touch this inner peace or cause him serious mental pain. His method had worked. “The holy life has been lived out to its conclusion!” he cried triumphantly at the end of his meditation under the bodhi tree. “What had to be done has been accomplished; there is nothing else to do!”

• From The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica Volume 10 (2011)

  “True,” allowed Pat. “But we weren’t married then,” said Gene. Yealsaigncate The men resumed wrestling, this time laughing instead of hitting insults. Patty threw Jeannie s pink-sashed straw hat to her. “Tl try not to forget mine again,” she mumbled. Jeannie couldn’t take her eyes off the young men wrestling in the sun. “That would be best,” she said. “I think.” The couples settled into a routine of sorts. After an early breakfast the girls would recline on deck chairs close to the surf, where they could tan, chat and watch their men cavort in the sea. In the afternoon they split off, sometimes to their respective suites for siesta and sex, or to take in the sights. They usually congregated with the rest of the hotel guests to watch the sunset, then returned to their rooms to rest and dress for the evening. Cocktails were followed by a buffet dinner, and then they’d dance under the stars or in a disco. After that came long, adventurous nights of passionate lovemaking. “Gene is the best lover I’ve ever had,” sighed Patty one morning. “Me too,” sighed Jeannie. They both giggled. “T mean, Pat is the best lover I’ve ever had,” Jeannie amended. Double Take 193 Another morning, Patty said, “Gene is really hung. I suppose Pat is the same?” “Should we be talking like this? They are our husbands, after all.” Jeannie glanced out to sea. It was a windy day and Pat was teaching his brother to surf. “They can’t hear us. Anyway, they probably talk about us.” “You think?” “No,” said Patty. She laughed. “So, is he? Pat? Is he hung?” “Like a horse,” said Jeannie. Their talk wasn’t always so explicit. One morning, Jeannie initiated a conversation of another kind, by saying, “Do you think they’re our best lovers because we’re in love?” “It’s hard to say. Gene is a very skilled lover, and getting more skilled by the day. He takes lovemaking seriously. Speaking objectively, he’s a great fuck.” “But are you? Objective? How can you ... ?” Jeannie dropped her voice to a whisper, as she always did when she talked about their past. “After all, we’ve each had the same lovers, for the most part, yet we both insist our husbands are the best.” “Our lovers never noticed when we swapped around. Maybe identical twins are identical in bed,” said Patty. “But we planned it that way. We swapped notes to make sure we didn’t give ourselves away. Surely we aren’t really the same, sexually?” “T’m multi-orgasmic.” “Me too.” “Gene can get it up again, and again, and again, in the same day.” S50 can ate “He roars when he comes.” “Pat’s noisy too.” They fell into a contemplative silence. “We could always swap hats and find out,” suggested Patty with a grin.

• From A Way of Being (1980)

  my being open to what I was experiencing within and being able to keep this openness between us was new and uplifting. I am deeply grateful to you who have made it possible for us to be so much more open with each other. I trust that you will see in these experiences some of the elements of growth- promoting interpersonal communication that have had meaning for me. A sensitive ability to hear, a deep satisfaction in being heard; an ability to be more real, which in turn brings forth more realness from others; and consequently a greater freedom to give and receive love—these, in my experience, are the elements that make interpersonal communication enriching and enhancing.

• From A Way of Being (1980)

  BERNICE Hello. (Usual friendly voice.) HERMAN Uh, this is Herman, the security guard at the Dental Building. BERNICE Oh Herman! I’m so glad to hear from you. HERMAN You remember me? (A bit incredulously.) BERNICE Of course! I was so sorry I didn’t see you Sunday night to thank you for all your helpfulness. The staff didn’t leave until much later, and another guard had already taken your place. HERMAN Well, uh, I’ve talked this over with my wife, and we’d both like to attend one of your workshops. Is it really true that you only pay what you can afford? BERNICE That’s right. (He needed to be reassured on this point twice more in the conversation, seeming to find it unbelievable.) . . . Give me your name and address, and I’ll put you on the mailing list, so you will get any information about what’s going on. HERMAN When will the next one be? BERNICE I don’t know. Possibly next fall. HERMAN Not until then? (He seemed very disappointed. Then, after a pause:) Can I call you Bernice? BERNICE Yes, surely. How could Herman—with so little direct contact with the workshop or its participants—possibly have picked up so much information that he went home, described it to his wife in such terms that it intrigued her, that they both decided to attend, and that he took the risk of phoning? It seems uncanny. But as I think it over, he had quite a bit of evidence, without once having actually seen the group in operation. He saw Bernice’s warmth and her interest in persons, which obviously impressed him. He saw people going out, arm in arm, for meals, talking deeply with one another. He saw the final farewells as people left the building Sunday night, embracing, exchanging phone numbers, eager to see one another again. But most of all, he must have seen the change in the people. He saw one hundred people enter this formidable-looking building Saturday morning, a bit tense and anxious, greeting each other guardedly, if at all. He saw these same people leaving Sunday night, clearly having become close, warm, loving, communicative friends, oozing the “high” they had reached. The change must have seemed a bit miraculous to a man who has, I am sure, seen plenty of dental conferences come and go. In other workshops, I have observed similar evidence that we have affected the kitchen staff, or the maintenance men, or the maids. I think that a workshop gives off such vital emanations, such good “vibes,” that they are picked up by many people who have nothing to do with the group sessions. But Herman’s story seems to me pretty special and unusually convincing.

• From The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica Volume 10 (2011)

  His cock felt impossibly large as she thrust down on him. She could tell he was close to finishing by the way he went still against her. She rotated her hips on him and he all but roared as he started to come, jerking against her so hard she bumped her head on the roof of the car. She had been so caught up in making him come that she hadn’t realized just how close she was to her own orgasm. She kept up those little thrusting motions, dragging her aroused clit over the patch of hair above his cock until she was pushed over the edge into her own Perfect Timing 171 climax. She rode him like that until her sensitive clit couldn’t take any more. Collapsing on top of him, her arms hanging down the back of the seat, she gasped and giggled as her pussy clenched around his slowly shrinking erection. “Holy hell,” she whimpered. “Who would have thought doing it in the car would be so hot?” Her breasts muffled his reply. “No kidding.” Suddenly conscious that they were in the faculty parking lot and the car windows were completely fogged, she reluctantly slid back into her seat. There was so much wetness between her thighs and on his lower stomach, she didn’t know who had made a bigger mess. She suspected it was her. “Hand me my panties,” she said. “They’re in the glove box.” He chuckled as he handed her the black lace thong. “You’re just going to make a mess of them.” “Better them than the back of my skirt,” she said ruefully as she shimmied into her panties and smoothed her wrinkled skirt into place. She looked over at Henry sprawled in the car seat with a satisfied smile on his face and his flaccid cock glistening against his pale stomach. He was an even bigger mess than she was and she frowned. “You can’t go inside like that.” He looked down. “No mistaking what I’ve been up to, is there?” “There should be tissues in there, too,” she said. He fumbled through the glove box until he found the packet of travel tissues and cleaned himself up as best he could. Moments later, shirt tucked in and pants fastened, he still looked like the cat that ate the cream. The noticeable wet spot on the front of his pants didn’t help matters at all. “Don’t worry,” he said, following the direction of her gaze. “I have a pair of pants in the office.” “Keep extra clothes at work, do you?” He grinned. “You never know when a beautiful young woman is going to offer herself up in exchange for an A.” “Always prepared.” She smiled at him. “You’re quite the boy scout.” He stroked a hand through her mussed hair. “You’re not bad yourself, love. ’m wiped out.” —

• From Cultish (2021)

  Finalists enter a rigorous ten-week instructor training program, where they learn to talk the talk. They pick up all the exclusive terminology—“party hills” (warm-up exercises), “tapbacks” (a signature move involving zesty backward butt thrusting), “Roosters” (5 a.m. classes and the “Type A” riders who take them), “noon on Monday” (a slogan referencing when class bookings open up each week), and how to make everything sound “soulful” with a capital S. Peloton’s exclusive recruitment process is arguably even more intense, since their online model allows them to maintain a tight roster of only twenty or so top-tier instructors. To earn initiation into the elite Peloton fam, aspirants are put through hours of interviews and callbacks with everyone from marketing experts to producers, and then months of training to guarantee they’ve got the magnetism to attract thousands to every show. Sparkie, a born-and-bred LA vegan with lilac hair and sleeves of rainbow tattoos, gained her passionate SoulCycle following with a repertoire of kitschy, old-school mottos inspired by her grandfather (“Anything worth doing is worth doing well!” “It’s not how you start, it’s how you fucking finish!”). She spent several years heading SoulCycle’s training program, helping newbies “find their voice” as instructors. “The key to creating the following is to sound authentic. When you sound like popcorn, people can hear it,” Sparkie told me. She recalled one nineteen-year-old trainee who was worried about what words of wisdom she could possibly offer riders: “And I was like, you’re not going to stand in front of the woman surviving cancer or the dad supporting a whole family and give them life wisdom. If you’re like, ‘I know times are hard! You’re going to get through this!’ they’re going to look at you and be like, ‘What do you know, child?’ Instead, be the joyous, young, fun being that you are. If you’re like, ‘Do you guys want to party and have a good time?’ they’re gonna be like, ‘Yeah! My life sucks right now, and I just want to fucking party.’” This combination of optics—from followers’ melodramatic message T-shirts (“Weightlifting is my religion,” “All I care about is my Peloton, and like 2 people”) to the liturgical rituals to the super-intimate instructor-student relationships—seems like overkill. Most of the fitness buffs I spoke to copped to this. But they also professed that the benefits vastly outweigh the negatives. Once you get hooked on a workout community, not only are you going to continue, you’re also going to evangelize it to all your friends to prove this thing is actually incredible and that you’re not really in a “cult.” Or at least not a cult any worse than the culture that created you . . . iv.In the US, we are taught to fetishize self-improvement. Fitness is a particularly compelling form of self-improvement because it demonstrates classic American values like productivity, individualism, and a commitment to meeting normative beauty standards.

• From Between Us

  If you’re reading this book in the United States, you probably value happiness. Happy people are healthier, more successful, and better liked. Linguist Anna Wierzbicka, describing middle-class white American social life, points to “important norms of interaction, with great emphasis being placed on being liked and approved of, on being perceived as friendly and cheerful. . . .” Happiness American-style is omnipresent and “right.” The reason may be that it helps to uphold three pillars of contemporary American life: success, being in control, and choice. In one study, my colleagues Yukiko Uchida and Shinobu Kitayama asked white American and Japanese college students to list “features” of happiness. Nearly all features generated by the American college students were positive. Importantly, American college students associated the good features of feeling happiness (e.g., joy, smiling) with personal achievement (e.g., feeling good about myself, getting what I want). This is what Kitayama, Mayumi Karasawa, and I found too: American college students—predominantly white—rated themselves as happy, when they were “proud,” felt “on top of the world” and “superior,” and had “self-esteem.” In yet another study by psychologist Phil Shaver and his colleagues, American college students who described experiences of happiness from the past—either their own or someone else’s—also noted feeling both good and successful. In the U.S., then, an essential aspect of happiness is feeling good about yourself and your own achievements. White American college students describing instances of happiness characterize the emotion as outgoing, energetic, and approach-oriented. They describe happy people as being courteous and friendly, hugging other people, doing nice things for other people, and seeking to communicate and share their good feelings. Moreover, happiness is portrayed as energetic, active, and bouncy—to the point of being “hyper” and jumping up and down. Happy people laugh, smile, talk enthusiastically. The most commonly used psychological measures capture “happiness” as an active and approach-oriented emotion. Happiness is paraphrased as “enthusiastic,” “interested,” “determined,” “excited,” and “inspired.” Energetic, active, and bouncy happiness serves you particularly well when you want to make things go your way. In one experimental study, psychologist Jeanne Tsai found that individuals who were told they would be “influencers” in an interactive task chose to be excited. This was true for “influencers” from very different cultures. Tsai argues that the white American preference for a happiness with energetic overtones stems from a culture in which individuals encounter many opportunities to influence and exert control over their environment. This kind of happiness is ingrained in Americans from an early age. American mothers stimulate their babies by repositioning, playing, and chatting with them, thus planting the seeds for bouncy happiness. American parents are strongly encouraged to ensure a level of entertainment for their children, in this way eliciting activated happiness as well. Children should have fun (high arousal), rather than being bored (low arousal). They are kept busy and excited with innumerable toys, a variety of extracurricular activities, trips to amusement parks, and other forms of entertainment.

• From The Sexual Life of Catherine M. (2001)

  There are few places that have as many forbidden areas as a museum: the works themselves are roped off, and there are plenty of places from which the public are banned. The visitor makes his progress with a vague sense that there is another parallel world, which he cannot see but from which he is being watched. Henri, myself and a friend called Fred therefore took advantage of a door that had exceptionally been left ajar at the end of a vast, momentarily deserted gallery in the Museum of Modern Art in Paris. We slipped in behind a flimsy partition wall which hid the pandemonium of what I imagine was a temporary store-room. We didn’t go far into the room. It was very cluttered; but more particularly we made our minds up quickly, without thinking it over. Still, I could see the shaft of light on the floor, because we had left the door as it was, while I formed a bridge between the two men. After a few minutes they changed places. They both came, one in my cunt, the other in my mouth. I don’t know which one of them intermittently suspended the action of his prick to run his hand under my stomach and pleasure me. It encouraged me to do it myself and to set off my own orgasm while the shrinking prick still lingered in my cunt and the other, whose cum I had swallowed, had moved away to free me from one of my moorings the better to enjoy my pleasure. This led to a little conversation about the way I masturbated. I explained, believing that I was revealing something astonishing, that in less precarious circumstances I could have had two or three consecutive orgasms. They made fun of me. That was very common for a woman, they claimed, as we slowly tucked our shirts back into our trousers. When we went back out into the light, the museum was just as empty. We carried on looking round the exhibition. I went from one painting to another, and from Henri to Fred for their comments, and this visit was all the more enjoyable because it was bolstered by the complicity which from then on would link me to those two men and to that place.

• From The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica Volume 10 (2011)

  The next morning she let me shampoo her hair and I enjoyed lathering the bubbles through her thick wet tresses. We played the Sketches of Spain CD loudly and made friendly jokes about our bathroom escapade in the restaurant the night before. Shannon said the night before had definitely not been a case of getting off easily. “T paid the piper in that smelly awful place,” she said, shoving me playfully. “And I do feel better now.” We ate breakfast at a local diner and wandered around the city as the sun staggered toward noon. She educated me about business start-ups. Feasibility studies. Florida’s liquor laws. Liability matters that came up when you owned nightclubs. Mr ATM had gone down to Florida weeks ahead to see that the movers didn’t destroy their stuff and to get the club renovations finished. I asked her what airline she was taking. She shrugged indifferently. We reminisced about some of the characters in the poetry workshop. She said it felt as though the course had been ten years ago. We agreed that time plays vicious jokes on people. “Personal arcs get tangled up, people meet at the wrong time,” she said. “D’ya know what I mean?” I answered that of course I knew what she meant. I didn’t say it but I knew she meant that she needed to marry this man. And I knew, or so I told myself, that I still needed to be on my own, that I needed more time and space to get on my feet after my divorce. We hugged underneath the FDR Drive and let go without getting weepy. The breeze off the river cooled us some. I hailed a cab for her. Honeymoon with Shannon 51 I watched her sling her duffel bag confidently into the taxi and her confidence reassured me that she would be just fine. A double major, a good head on her shoulders, an older, stable businessman for a husband, a new life in sunny climes. We hugged one more time, quickly, and she climbed into the car. As the cab receded she turned once to wave and then I watched how sun and shadows through the rear windshield cast bright light on and off on her long red hair, and I watched until the car disappeared from view up the highway ramp. At my apartment the next morning I put a vase of lilacs on my bathroom sink and remembered the first time she’d come over. Clicking my laptop to life, I Googled the mailing address for Disney World’s Wedding reception hall. The hit came up as the Magic Kingdom Wedding Castle. As I scrolled down the list I saw the announcement of a Monday wedding “Gary Suggs and Shannon O’Rourke”’.

• From A Way of Being (1980)

  pictures the frightening resistance to any way of being that threatens conventional ways and, especially, conventional power structures. To me, this chapter is a refreshing bouquet of blossoms of different hues and fragrances. It has been plucked from all the different areas in which we have journeyed in this book—the qualities in a relationship, the inner experience of change, the impact of an intensive group experience, the community as a therapist, the rays of light that issue from a workshop, illuminating in unexpected ways. In picking it, I have wandered all over the garden. I offer it to you, now, as a bouquet gathered over the years, which has given me much pleasure. ... 1. “I BEGAN TO LOSE ME” Dear Dr. Rogers,

• From Cultish (2021)

  We touch our palms to our hearts, zestfully shoot them open in a wide V above our heads, touch our hearts again, then extend our arms down by our hips to mirror the previous posture. Meanwhile, we repeat: “I am blessed with all I need.” “Gratitude is the attitude that will CHANGE. YOUR. LIFE!” roars Moreno. “You have to think about, talk about, focus on the blessings you already have.” Now we’re breaking into a jumping jack, arms wide at the top and a deep toe touch at the bottom, shouting, “I am blessed with all I need!” “Let’s do them all!” invites Moreno, and we repeat the four movements in a row: WILLPOWER, STRONG, BRAVE, ABUNDANCE. And then, out of nowhere, tears. I’m no more than five minutes into Moreno’s movement affirmations when my voice breaks into a warble. My mom turns and smiles uncomfortably. “Amanda, are you . . . crying?” I hear her attempt not to sound judgmental. My parents haven’t seen me cry in two years. “Everyone said this would happen!” I shriek in self-defense, at once laughing and blubbering, betrayed by this liquidy reflex. With that, the spell is broken. “All right, that’s enough,” my dad grumbles, shaking off the routine like a costume he just noticed was ridiculous. “I’m going to the garage to get on the Lifecycle. I exercise BY MYSELF!” “We know, Craig. Take the recycling with you,” my mother retorts, still marching in place, rolling her hands. It’s high jinks here at the Montell household: My science professor parents and I, the most cynical trio ever to shout the phrase “I’m blessed with all I need” mid–jumping jack, are taking a free online intenSati class. This media-proclaimed cult-favorite workout was created in the early 2000s by former aerobics champion and today’s virtual instructor, fifty-five-year-old Patricia Moreno, whose shiny black ponytail and radiant grin are broadcasting from an iPad in my parents’ sunroom. Baptized by Cosmopolitan.com as “a super fit Mexican Oprah” meets a “jock version of J.Lo,” Moreno makes athletics and enlightenment seem like an effortless combo. Her high-energy technique pairs elements of dance, kickboxing, and yoga with spoken affirmations, so each move has a mantra that goes with it. In the lingo of intenSati, these move-affirmation pairings are called “incantations”—a concept Moreno learned at a Tony Robbins conference at the turn of the millennium. intenSati (a play on “intensity”) is a portmanteau of “intention” and “sati,” the Pali word for “mindfulness.” It could definitely be classified as “woo-woo.” At fifty-eight and sixty-four, my mom and dad are in fantastic shape, way better than I am, thanks to all the biking and swimming they do in Santa Barbara, where they moved from Baltimore seven years ago. They’re not “group workout people,” they love to remind me, but while I’m visiting for the weekend, I’ve convinced them to try out one of the cult fitness classes I’ve been researching for this book.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  This was the second time my lover and I had sex. I was living and working in Paris. He was an Iraqi studying for an advanced degree. We met at a dance and I was impressed by his natural grace and rhythm—a superb athlete. On this occasion we danced to Greek folk music at home. As our movements became more sensuous our bodies swayed in fluid unity. We continued dancing, gradually removing each other’s clothes until we were stark naked. His penis was between my legs and I thrilled to its hardness and warmth. When the music ended we fell to the floor. He came into me slowly and with the same perfect rhythm. I arched up so he could lick my nipples. We continued to move in harmony until we both climaxed. We could hardly be more different in terms of culture and background, but we were effortlessly connected with each other. What he wanted was what I wanted was what he wanted. Among The Group’s tales of peak sex there are a number in which music and dance are avenues to heightened mutuality. Others mention extended holding, kissing, and caressing—often while breathing in unison—as practical methods for establishing resonance. Although men don’t mention it as frequently as women, they unquestionably appreciate the same feeling. Both men and women yearn for opportunities to bridge the chasm that separates all of us into distinct, ultimately lonely, individuals. In peak eroticism lovers find a common playground in which to express their complementary desires. If only for a moment, the fundamental loneliness of being human is relieved.5 TRANSCENDENCE OF PERSONAL BOUNDARIESIn peak sex you may become so self-expressive, so clear about who you are and what you want, that your sense of self actually expands. You may move beyond the confines of habit and identity and enter an altered state of consciousness known as transcendence. In their stories of peak sex, over 10 percent of The Group uses the poetic language suggestive of transcendence: “I felt a part of all that is.” “The whole universe became erotic.” “It was the primal dance of life.” “Our love was unique yet infinite.” Because it’s so difficult to describe a transcendent experience there are undoubtedly others who feel it but don’t know how to translate their experiences into words. Transcendence connects us with the great mysteries of life. Our natural response to genuine mystery is usually to remain silent. When we try to explain what has touched us we run the risk of distancing ourselves from the experience because our descriptions are inadequate to convey its fullness. Analysis of stories with transcendent aspects reveals several recurring themes: • A feeling of participation in the grand scheme of existence. • A clear though often inexpressible sense of meaning and purpose. • A sense of completion, not needing anything else, and an acceptance of what is.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  ruled with the spirit of loyalty, virtue, and piety. Finally, the Gospel reforms the international relations by breaking down the partition walls of prejudice and hatred among the different nations and races. It unites in brotherly fellowship and harmony around the same communion table even the Jews and the Gentiles, once so bitterly separate and hostile. The spirit of Christianity, truly catholic or universal, rises above all national distinctions. Like the congregation at Jerusalem, the whole apostolic church was of "one heart and of one soul."637 It had its occasional troubles, indeed, temporary collisions between a Peter and a Paul, between Jewish and Gentile Christians; but instead of wondering at these, we must admire the constant victory of the spirit of harmony and love over the remaining forces of the old nature and of a former state of things. The poor Gentile Christians of Paul’s churches in Greece sent their charities to the poor Jewish Christians in Palestine, and thus proved their gratitude for the gospel and its fellowship, which they had received from that mother church.638 The Christians all felt themselves to be "brethren," were constantly impressed with their common origin and their common destiny, and considered it their sacred duty to "keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace."639 While the Jews, in their spiritual pride and "odium generis humani" abhorred all Gentiles; while the Greeks despised all barbarians as only half men; and while the Romans, with all their might and policy, could bring their conquered nations only into a mechanical conglomeration, a giant body without a soul; Christianity, by purely moral means) founded a universal spiritual empire and a communion of saints, which stands unshaken to this day, and will spread till it embraces all the nations of the earth as its living members, and reconciles all to God. § 50. Spiritual Condition of the Congregations.—The Seven Churches in Asia. We must not suppose that the high standard of holiness set up in doctrine and example by the evangelists and apostles was fully realized in their congregations. The dream of the spotless purity and perfection of the apostolic church finds no support in the apostolic writings, except as an ideal which is constantly held up before our vision to stimulate our energies. If the inspired apostles themselves disclaimed perfection, much less can we expect it from their converts, who had just come from the errors and corruptions of Jewish and heathen society, and could not be transformed at once without a miracle in violation of the ordinary laws of moral growth. We find, in fact, that every Epistle meets some particular difficulty and danger. No letter of Paul can be understood without the admission of the actual imperfection of his congregations. He found it necessary to warn them even against the vulgar sins of the flesh as well as against the refined sins of the spirit. He cheerfully and thankfully commended their virtues, and as frankly and fearlessly condemned their errors and vices.