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 Fixed Stars (0)

  [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] The summer after college graduation, I went home. My dad gave me a job at his office, combing through old patient files and compiling data on colorectal cancer that I doubt he ever planned to use. I was glad for the cash and the time to figure out what to do next. One weekend my mother and I drove up to Tulsa to visit a friend. In a grocery store there I recognized the cashier’s face: it was Aaron, my first-grade classmate, the cute one who’d puked by the cubbies. He’d switched schools when we were eight, and I’d lost track of him. Now he too was a recent college grad and a music writer for the local newspaper, and he also worked a checkout line at Wild Oats Market. There was a tiny silver hoop in his nose, and his hair was dyed black, a shaggy halo around his face. But his eyes were still big and serious, and as he rang up my bag of bulk-bin granola, it somehow came out that we were both reading The Fountainhead. Emboldened by the coincidence, I called information and got his number. The first time we had sex, I hovered over his face and, with what I hoped was a seductive wink, said: What would our first-grade teacher think if she saw us now? I felt like I’d won a prize I’d trained years for. We fell in love fast and thought little of driving ninety miles of highway to be together. He lived in an apartment with a friend and two electric guitars in a building that backed up to a small, fragrant pond. We liked to sit out there and talk late into the night. We lay on the mattress on his bedroom floor, listening to Sleater-Kinney. Sometimes when we kissed, we’d pause by some silent agreement, our lips millimeters apart, and hover there, breathing in our shared heat. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] We were together for three years. For two of them, we lived in different cities. At first Aaron was in Tulsa, and I was in Oklahoma City. Then I packed up and went to Paris for nine months, to take a job teaching English conversation. While I was there, I applied to graduate schools, and Aaron applied to Teach for America. Then I moved to Seattle to start school, and he moved to Mississippi, where he’d been posted. He joined me in Seattle the following year, which turned out to be our last. It was difficult, for reasons mostly out of our control. My father had just died of cancer.

• From The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones (2006)

  instead of joylessly chomping at paper-wrapped disks of graying beef-flavor-sprayed meat before lumbering unquestioning toward cardiac apocalypse. Wouldn't that be something? Flush with my experience at the food court, I called Seetoh the next day and put myself entirely in his hands. "Feed me," I said, "the very best." The first place he took me was Sin Huat Eating House at the junction of Geylang Road and Lorong 35, a tired, dumpy looking joint (one could barely call it a restaurant) in the red-light district. The dining room—such as it is—had been taken over by a mean-faced server-prep cook who was busily peeling garlic and shallots, rarely bothering to look up. A glass-front refrigerator contained bottles of Tiger beer, and little else. We served ourselves—as the server didn't bother to offer. A few bare, unstable round tables sat outside, a perfect vantage point from which to observe the parade of lumpy and forlorn-looking prostitutes, and the arcadelike space was filled almost entirely with fish tanks, cases of beer, and Styrofoam and wood crates jam-packed with shellfish. All seafood, in fact, is kept alive and happy at Sin Huat until ordered by customers The overlit ambiance, dirty-T-shirted staff, and stray cats who patrol near the tables were not impediments to a truly great meal. This came as no surprise to me. As I have found in my travels, a certain degree of dirtiness, lack of refrigeration, and close proximity to livestock is often a near-guarantee of something really good to eat. If you see a crowd of locals lined up to eat at a filthy-looking little dunghole on the edge of town, it is often a sign of good things to come. Referring to chef Danny Lee, who swung by the table to say hello in white T-shirt, shorts, and knee-high rubber boots, Seetoh volunteered that, "This guy is like a lotus flower. A lotus flower cannot bloom unless it sits in a swamp. It's about extracting heaven from hell." I don't recall actually ordering anything. I certainly never saw a menu. But what followed were seven courses of the tastiest, most screamingly fresh goddamned seafood I have ever put in my mouth—a miracle of wild, passionate, rule-breaking brilliance. I never saw a single vegetable, save a lone, half-hearted garnish of flowered scallion bulb. No rice. No sides. Every course arrived heaped with garlic, swimming in garlic, studded with garlic, or perched atop a Himalaya of garlic. Yet, each and every dish tasted distinctively, magnificently different, devoid of any garlic-related unpleasantness. Always, the principle ingredient (the fish) spoke loudest and most freely. Gong-Gong, which translates, Seetoh said, to "stupid-stupid," was a stainless-steel serving platter of fresh whelks, steamed and sauteed in garlic. We twisted the tender, buttery-light meat out of the shells with toothpicks.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  She sat at one end of the bench, and I sat down at the other. We were too far apart, weirdly far apart. Nausea swam around my gut like a strange fish. […] Walking beside her, I saw that she wasn't as tall as I'd thought. I realized I'd never done this before: I'd never walked beside her. It felt different from walking beside anyone else. I was walking beside Nora. I was walking beside a woman who was gay, and who looked gay, and I was not walking beside this woman because she was my friend. I was walking beside her because we wanted to put our tongues in each other's mouths. […] The street was empty as we walked to my car. We stopped on the sidewalk beside a brick house with expensively pruned hedges. Something wobbled in my stomach, went zinging up between my ears. Can I kiss you? I asked, and then I did. Her mouth was open just enough. My lips found her upper lip just right of center, and I kissed the ridge where it met the skin above. Her tongue moved gently, a polite suggestion. I felt her mouth close around my lower lip, and I drove myself against her, linked my hands at the small of her back. Her breasts pressed against my chest. They were bigger than mine, pliant the way a waterbed is, and they made a peculiar spacer between us. I'd never collided this way with familiar and foreign, like-me and not-me. I'd never been this close to another woman, not since I was an infant with my mother. Nora and I were not the same person, but she knew what it felt like to have breasts, to have a vagina, to live in a body like this, to move it through the world, to move it against another body. This was a new intimacy: the pleasure of sameness. Her thigh slid between my legs and offered itself to me. I pressed my pelvis against the firm pad of her muscle and gave her my own thigh in return. We fit, because she was made like me. She whispered into my mouth and I pulled in her words like air.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  • Give yourself permission. Pleasure is important—as important as food or air. You’re no less deserving of sustenance than any other living being. • Experiment. Touch yourself in a variety of ways. Find out what feels good to you. “If you don’t orgasm, that’s OK—what’s important is your discovery of what feels good. You can build on this the next time you masturbate,” Cathy Winks and Anne Semans advise.5 • Take your time. It may take you an hour or longer to reach a level of arousal that can take you over the edge. • Breathe. Breathing will oxygenate your blood and move energy through your entire body. • Make noise. You can’t hold your breath when you’re moaning. • Move. Rock your pelvis, move your legs. Notice the energy building as you move. • Use a vibrator. Many women find the intense, reliable sensations of the vibrator necessary for reaching orgasm. • Use lube. Put some water-based lube on the head of the vibrator, on your finger, and on your clit. Spread the lube around so that it coats your entire vulva. • Stop and start. If you get frustrated, back off and let your sexual sensation slowly build up again. “Try not to get too fixated on the orgasm or else ‘trying too hard’ might kill your arousal,” Winks and Semans write.6 • Don’t tense up. Play with the tension in your body. Contract and relax. • Practice. Lonnie Barbach recommends that you set aside an hour a day, every day, for up to six weeks.7 • Do your Kegels. Annie Sprinkle writes: “Squeeze the pubococcygeus muscles (the muscles you squeeze to stop the flow of urine) on the exhale. These squeezes can actually stimulate the clitoris and G-spot, while pumping up energy throughout your entire body. In other words, inhale while filling your belly like a balloon, exhale and flatten your back while contracting the PC muscles.” 8 • Feel your feelings. Sexual feelings can stir up grief, anger, or fear. Backing off from sexual stimulation may make sense in the moment—but the cost is dear. • Get help. There are many ways to approach your sexual healing. You can try somatic healing practices designed to help you heal trauma in your body. You can see a therapist to explore why you have a problem reaching orgasm. You can work with a sex therapist or surrogate. Or arrange a session with an orgasm coach. • Read a sex guide. Aphrodite, the savvy online advice columnist at A Woman’s Touch boutique, reveals that she learned to masturbate by reading Our Bodies, Ourselves.9 Even sex goddesses had to learn somewhere. Investigate videos, DVDs, books, and workshops. See the resources section for details.

• From The Principle of Desire (2013)

  “You made that pretty clear. I did need some time, which I got when you left. And I got my head straight. This is me, with my head straight, as a switch who has a date Tuesday night with this rocket scientist I molested in a parking lot earlier. Wednesday we’re going to play Dungeons and Dragons or something with our mutual friends. I’m thinking my character could be an elf. I like elves, and I’m not ashamed to admit that.” After another pause, briefer than the last, Aaron stood and made for the front door, shaking his head again. He turned before exiting, giving Beth a wan smile. “Sorry I let myself in. You have every right to be pissed about that. It was just habit, it won’t happen again. Not only because you took the key, I mean I wouldn’t have done it again anyway.” Softening, she smiled back, though she joined him at the door and held the knob, making it clear she was ready to close it after him. “How was England, by the way?” He shrugged. “Green. Sceptre’d. Good beer. The usual. I missed you.” “Not enough to act like it, though. Not enough to mention it in your emails, or indicate in any way that you regretted acting like a tool before you left. You didn’t regret that until now, when you’re back and realizing that you really do not have a sub or girlfriend waiting for you here.” At one time she’d been strictly relegated to the sub role, but after moving to Houston to stay with Aaron he’d let her into his everyday life as well. And perhaps that had made the difference. At the club, Aaron was a golden boy, top of the heap, the acknowledged Alpha among alphas. In his regular life, he was unpleasantly divorced, and only well-off because he was a trust fund baby. Not everybody found his autocratic ways delightful, and people were often catty about the fact that she was almost twenty years his junior. His research was also stalled out, no longer as exciting as it had been. His academic career was in decline, while hers was on the rise. Seeing him in that light hadn’t caused her disenchantment, but it had enhanced it and hastened the inevitable breakup. Beth still wasn’t sure what she wanted next from life, but seeing him now only confirmed that she didn’t want a life with Aaron. She still wasn’t sure what kind she wanted instead. “I did regret it,” he said. “I just have trouble expressing that kind of thing in an email or over the phone. I came back here intending to ask you to marry me, by the way.”

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

  a list of Com. on the Gospels in the English transl. of Meyer on Matthew (Edinb., 1877, pp. xxiv.-xliii). § 78. The Four Gospels. General Character and Aim of the Gospels. Christianity is a cheerful religion and brings joy and peace from heaven to earth. The New Testament opens with the gospel, that is with the authentic record of the history of all histories, the glad tidings of salvation through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.870 The four canonical Gospels are only variations of the same theme, a fourfold representation of one and the same gospel, animated by the same spirit.871 They are not full biographies,872 but only memoirs or a selection of characteristic features of Christ’s life and work as they struck each Evangelist and best suited his purpose and his class of readers.873 They are not photographs which give only the momentary image in a single attitude, but living pictures from repeated sittings, and reproduce the varied expressions and aspects of Christ’s person. The style is natural, unadorned, straightforward, and objective. Their artless and naïve simplicity resembles the earliest historic records in the Old Testament, and has its peculiar and abiding charm for all classes of people and all degrees of culture. The authors, in noble modesty and self-forgetfulness, suppress their personal views and feelings, retire in worshipful silence before their great subject, and strive to set it forth in all its own unaided power. The first and fourth Gospels were composed by apostles and eye-witnesses, Matthew and John; the second and third, under the influence of Peter and Paul, and by their disciples Mark and Luke, so as to be indirectly likewise of apostolic origin and canonical authority. Hence Mark is often called the Gospel of Peter, and Luke the Gospel of Paul. The common practical aim of the Evangelists is to lead the reader to a saving faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the promised Messiah and Redeemer of the world.874 Common Origin. The Gospels have their common source in the personal intercourse of two of the writers with Christ, and in the oral tradition of the apostles and other eye-witnesses. Plain fishermen of Galilee could not have drawn such a portrait of Jesus if he had not sat for it. It would take more than a Jesus to invent a Jesus. They did not create the divine original, but they faithfully preserved and reproduced it. The gospel story, being constantly repeated in public preaching and in private circles, assumed a fixed, stereotyped form; the more readily, on account of the reverence of the first disciples for every word of their divine Master. Hence the striking agreement of the first three, or synoptical Gospels, which, in matter and form, are only variations of the same theme. Luke used, according to his own statement, besides the oral tradition, written documents on certain parts of the life of Jesus, which doubtless appeared early among the first disciples.

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

  The majority of German hymnists are Lutherans, the rest German Reformed (as Neander and Tersteegen), or Moravians (Zinzendorf and Gregor), or belong to the United Evangelical Church. Many of these hymns, and just those possessed of the greatest vigor and unction, full of the most exulting faith and the richest comfort, had their origin amid the conflicts and storms of the Reformation, or the fearful devastations and nameless miseries of the Thirty Years’ War; others belong to the revival period of the pietism of Spener, and the Moravian Brotherhood of Zinzendorf, and reflect the earnest struggle after holiness, the fire of the first love, and the sweet enjoyment of the soul’s intercourse with her heavenly Bridegroom; not a few of them sprang up even in the cold and prosy age of "illumination" and rationalism, like flowers from dry ground, or Alpine roses on fields of snow; others, again, proclaim, in fresh and joyous tones, the dawn of reviving faith in the land where the Reformation had its birth. Thus these hymns constitute a book of devotion and poetic confession of faith for German Protestantism, a sacred band which encircles its various periods, an abiding memorial of its struggles and victories, its sorrows and joys, a mirror of its deepest experiences, and an eloquent witness for the all-conquering and invincible life-power of the evangelical Christian faith. The treasures of German hymnody have enriched the churches of other tongues, and passed into Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, French, Dutch, and modern English and American hymn-books. John Wesley was the first of English divines who appreciated its value; and while his brother Charles produced an immense number of original hymns, John freely reproduced several hymns of Paul Gerhardt, Tersteegen, and Zinzendorf. The English Moravian hymn-book as revised by Montgomery contains about a thousand abridged (but mostly indifferent) translations from the German. In more recent times several accomplished writers, male and female, have vied with each other in translations and transfusions of German hymns. Among the chief English translators are Miss Frances Elizabeth Cox;667 Arthur Tozer Russell;668 Richard Massie;669 Miss Catherine Winkworth;670 Mrs. Eric Findlater and her sister, Miss Jane Borthwick, of the Free Church of Scotland, who modestly conceal their names under the letters "H. L. L." (Hymns from the Land of Luther);671 James W. Alexander,672Henry Mills,673 John Kelly,674 not to mention many others who have furnished admirable translations of one or more hymns for public or private hymnological collections.675 English and American hymnody began much later than the German, but comes next to it in fertility, is enriching itself constantly by transfusions of Greek, Latin, and German, as well as by original hymns, and may ultimately surpass all hymnodies. § 83. Common Schools. Luther: An die Rathsherren aller Städte deutschen Landes, dass sie christliche Schulen aufrichten und halten sollen. Wittenberg, 1524. The book appeared in the same year in Latin (De constituendis scholis), with a preface of Melanchthon, the probable translator, at Hagenau. In Walch, x. 533; in the Erlangen. ed., xxii. 168–199.

• From What My Bones Know (2022)

  I was not as furious at her as I always assumed I’d be. I was upset at her for not thinking of a child, not asking where I had been on all the Father’s Days and Thanksgivings. But she only knew as much as my father had told her. — They visited me in New York later in 2017, in the fall. My father, his wife, her two kids, Joey, and I all spent one day in Manhattan together. I got them New York’s best doughnuts and some mediocre pizza, showed them how to swipe their MetroCards, walked them around the enormous buildings of Midtown. Her sons were sweet. I’d spent my teenage years and entire adult life despising these children, lamenting about them to my therapist, calling them “brats,” and complaining that they had stolen my father and my life. But in the flesh, they were just kids. Of course they were. Well-behaved, curious, innocent—giddy at New York’s giant Uniqlo and Bape, thrilled at the underground jostle of the subway and the chaotic process of transferring between the A and F trains. He’d raised them well. His wife loved skyscrapers, so after Uniqlo we went up to the top of the Empire State Building. On the way in, every visitor was asked to stand in front of a large green-screen backdrop, and an employee snapped their photo. The final product was an image of guests in front of the glowing crown of the Empire State Building, as if we had floated all the way to the top somehow, the date superimposed on top. It was hammy and touristy, so I made a dumb face when they took the picture. We went up to the top and relished the brilliant views of the city, all of its massive buildings tiny from so high up. It was a perfectly clear blue day, and we could see for miles. The boys oohed and aahed. On the way out, we passed the gift shop. And that’s when they hawked our photo back to us. There we all were. Everyone was smiling widely, looking overjoyed to be together, a true blended family. And then there was me, my brows knitted, my hand on my hip as if I was fed up, my lips a sideways, dissatisfied line. Snottily superior to this tourist trap. But my father barely saw the exorbitant price, barely saw my fed-up mug. When he looked at that absurdly tacky image, his face lit up. For the first time in decades, here was photographic evidence that it was possible for him to have everything he wanted, everything together, everything he loved, in one place. He bought a framed five-by-ten copy.

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

  Perfect freedom is one with moral necessity, in which man no longer can do evil because he will not do it, and must do good because he wills to do it; in which the finite will is united with the divine in joyful obedience, and raised above the possibility of apostasy. This is the blessed freedom of the children of God in the state of glory. There is, indeed, a subordinate sphere of natural virtue and civil justice, in which even fallen man retains a certain freedom of choice, and is the artificer of his own character. But as respects his relation to God, he is in a state of alienation from God, and of bondage under sin; and from this he cannot rise by his own strength, by a bare resolution of his will, but only by a regenerating act of grace. received in humility and faith, and setting him free to practise Christian virtue. Then, when born again from above, the will of the new man co-operates with the grace of God, in the growth of the Christian life.1752 Physical death Pelagius regarded as a law of nature, which would have prevailed even without sin.1753 The passages of Scripture which represent death as the consequence of sin, he referred to moral corruption or eternal damnation.1754 Yet be conceded that Adam, if he had not sinned, might by a special privilege have been exempted from death. II. The Fall of Adam and its Consequences. Pelagius, destitute of all idea of the organic wholeness of the race or of human nature, viewed Adam merely as an isolated individual; he gave him no representative place, and therefore his acts no bearing beyond himself. In his view, the sin of the first man consisted in a single, isolated act of disobedience to the divine command. Julian compares it to the insignificant offence of a child, which allows itself to be misled by some sensual bait, but afterwards repents its fault. "Rude, inexperienced, thoughtless, having not yet learned to fear, nor seen an example of virtue,"1755 Adam allowed himself to be enticed by the pleasant look of the forbidden fruit, and to be determined by the persuasion of the woman. This single and excusable act of transgression brought no consequences, either to the soul or the body of Adam, still less to his posterity who all stand or fall for themselves. There is, therefore, according to this system, no original sin, and no hereditary guilt. Pelagius merely conceded, that Adam, by his disobedience, set a bad example, which exerts a more or less injurious influence upon his posterity.

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

  "Since now we have drawn up this decision with the most comprehensive exactness and circumspection, the holy and ecumenical synod 1632 hath ordained, that no one shall presume to propose, orally, or in writing, another faith, or to entertain or teach it to others; and that those who shall dare to give another symbol or to teach another faith to converts from heathenism or Judaism, or any heresy, shall, if they be bishops or clergymen, be deposed from their bishopric and spiritual function, or if they be monks or laymen, shall be excommunicated." After the public reading of this confession, all the bishops exclaimed: "This is the faith of the fathers; this is the faith of the apostles; to this we all agree; thus we all think. The symbol was solemnly ratified at the sixth session (Oct. 25th), in the presence of the emperor and the empress. The emperor thanked Christ for the restoration of the unity of faith, and threatened all with heavy punishment, who should thereafter stir up new controversies; whereupon the synod exclaimed: "Thou art both priest and king, victor in war, and teacher of the faith." At its subsequent sessions the synod was occupied with the appeal of Ibas, bishop of Edessa, who had been deposed by the Robber Synod, and was now restored; with other cases of discipline; with some personal matters; and with the enactment of twenty-eight canons, which do not concern us here.1633 The emperor, by several edicts, gave the force of law to the decisions of the council, and commanded that all Eutychians should be banished from the empire, and their writings burned.1634 Pope Leo confirmed the doctrinal confession of the council, but protested against the twenty-eighth canon, which placed the patriarch of Constantinople on an equality with him. Notwithstanding these ratifications and rejoicings, the peace of the Church was only apparent, and the long Monophysite troubles were at hand.1635 But before we proceed to these, we must enter into a more careful exposition of the Chalcedonian Christology, which has become the orthodox doctrine of Christendom. § 142. The Orthodox Christology—Analysis and Criticism. The first council of Nicaea had established the eternal preexistent Godhead of Christ. The symbol of the fourth ecumenical council relates to the incarnate Logos, as he walked upon earth and sits on the right hand of the Father, and it is directed against errors which agree with the Nicene Creed as opposed to Arianism, but put the Godhead of Christ in a false relation to his humanity. It substantially completes the orthodox Christology of the ancient Church; for the definitions added by the Monophysite and Monothelite controversies are few and comparatively unessential.

• From White Oleander (1999)

  Under their bed I found a box painted red and white and decorated with pieces of broken mirror. Inside, it was also red, and full of the things that he’d been missing—an army knife, a watch, his stapler, scissors, keys, nail clippers. There was a Polaroid of them laughing, and two Polaroids glued together face-to-face, I couldn’t pry them apart. A magnet hung from the lid of the box, and a steel plate was glued to the bottom. I could feel the tug of the magnet as I replaced the lid. 17 [image "image" file=Image00003.jpg] I FINISHED the tenth grade at the end of June. I did incredibly well, considering. C in algebra, it was a mercy grade, they never give out D’s as final grades in honors classes. But with Claire’s nightly help, I got A’s in English and history, world art and biology, even Spanish. If she had asked me to go out for football, I would have done that too. To celebrate, Ron took us to Musso and Frank, a restaurant right on Hollywood Boulevard. I’d never noticed it before. Just down from the last apartment I lived in with my mother. We parked in back and walked down the stairs with their polished brass railings, past the old-fashioned kitchen. We could see the chefs cooking. It smelled like stew, or meat loaf, the way time should smell, solid and nourishing. We walked single file past the scarred wooden counter, people eating steaks and chops and reading Variety, warmed by the grill fires, served by old men waiters in green-and-red jackets. It was a time warp, flash frozen in 1927. I liked it, it made me feel safe. We were seated in the back room. Ron knew people. He introduced us—“my wife, Claire,” and for a moment I thought he was going to introduce me as their daughter. But it was “and our friend Astrid.” I beat back the sharpness of my disappointment with the thought that Marvel wouldn’t have bothered to introduce me at all, and Amelia, well, we were lucky to get fed. I drank my Shirley Temple and Claire pointed out movie stars in excited whispers. They didn’t look very glamorous in real life. Smaller than you’d think, dressed plainly, just eating dinner. Jason Robards and another man sat across from us with two bored kids, the men talking business, the kids making bread balls and throwing them at each other. Claire and Ron split a bottle of wine, and Claire gave me sips from her glass. She touched Ron constantly, his hair, arm, shoulder. I was jealous. I wanted her all to myself. I was aware it wasn’t normal, normal daughters didn’t get jealous of their fathers. They wished both their parents would disappear. Ron took something from his pocket, concealed in his smooth hand. “For a job well done,” he said. He put it on my plate. It was a red velvet box, shaped like a heart. I opened it.

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

  What he could not do in person, he carried out through others.23 In the year 596, Gregory, remembering his interview with the sweet-faced and fair-haired Anglo-Saxon slave-boys, and hearing of a favorable opportunity for a mission, sent the Benedictine abbot Augustin (Austin), thirty other monks, and a priest, Laurentius, with instructions, letters of recommendation to the Frank kings and several bishops of Gaul, and a few books, to England.24 The missionaries, accompanied by some interpreters from France, landed on the isle of Thanet in Kent, near the mouth of the Thames.25 King Ethelbert, by his marriage to Bertha, a Christian princess from Paris, who had brought a bishop with her, was already prepared for a change of religion. He went to meet the strangers and received them in the open air; being afraid of some magic if he were to see them under roof. They bore a silver cross for their banner, and the image of Christ painted on a board; and after singing the litany and offering prayers for themselves and the people whom they had come to convert, they preached the gospel through their Frank interpreters. The king was pleased with the ritualistic and oratorical display of the new religion from distant, mighty Rome, and said: "Your words and promises are very fair; but as they are new to us and of uncertain import, I cannot forsake the religion I have so long followed with the whole English nation. Yet as you are come from far, and are desirous to benefit us, I will supply you with the necessary sustenance, and not forbid you to preach and to convert as many as you can to your religion."26 Accordingly, he allowed them to reside in the City of Canterbury (Dorovern, Durovernum), which was the metropolis of his kingdom, and was soon to become the metropolis of the Church of England. They preached and led a severe monastic life. Several believed and were baptized, "admiring," as Bede says, "the simplicity of their innocent life, and the sweetness of their heavenly doctrine." He also mentions miracles. Gregory warned Augustin not to be puffed up by miracles, but to rejoice with fear, and to tremble in rejoicing, remembering what the Lord said to his disciples when they boasted that even the devils were subject to them. For not all the elect work miracles, and yet the names of all are written in heaven.27 King Ethelbert was converted and baptized (probably June 2, 597), and drew gradually his whole nation after him, though he was taught by the missionaries not to use compulsion, since the service of Christ ought to be voluntary. Augustin, by order of pope Gregory, was ordained archbishop of the English nation by Vergilius,28 archbishop of Arles, Nov. 16, 597, and became the first primate of England, with a long line of successors even to this day. On his return, at Christmas, he baptized more than ten thousand English.

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  3. People in relationships don’t masturbate. Or they masturbate only when the girlfriend’s out of town. The corollary to this is: Women in healthy relationships don’t masturbate; if you have to do for yourself, you must be suffering from Lesbian Bed Death. The opposite is more likely to be true: if you masturbate—filling your life with erotic richness—you probably won’t suffer from lack of libido. And if you share your erotic energy with your girlfriend, maybe she’ll get turned on, too. 4. Save it for your girlfriend. If you masturbate, you’re taking something away from your partner. That’s fine if your honey is your erotic twin. But what if your desires don’t perfectly match on a 24/7 basis? Masturbation isn’t being “unfaithful.” The idea that your lover should satisfy all your needs—sexual, emotional, spiritual—not only is unrealistic, it doesn’t leave much room for you to be you. 5. If you masturbate you’ll get addicted and be unable to have orgasms any other way.You’ll become antisocial. “I was far more antisocial when I was love addicted,” writes Betty Dodson.1 6. Masturbation is a lonely occupation. Yes, masturbation can evoke loneliness, sadness, grief—as well as joy, excitement, and the feeling that you might burst with pleasure. Sex is an emotional experience, whether you’re sharing that experience with a partner or flying solo. 7. Masturbation is something you should do in private. Some of us had “enlightened” parents. Instead of slapping our hands when they caught us masturbating, they told us it was OK—just don’t ever let anyone see us doing it. No wonder we find masturbating for an audience so deliciously naughty. 8. Women who jerk off too much are sex obsessed. How much is “too much”? How much pleasure are you willing to allow yourself? A thimbleful? A bathtub? An ocean? 9. Autoeroticism is kinky. It’s “normal” to get off now and then, but dressing up, playing with toys, watching yourself in the mirror, and licking the juices from your fingers—that’s kinky. Give yourself permission to touch yourself, look at yourself, smell yourself, taste yourself. (If it helps to think of yourself as the perviest girl on your block, go for it.) 10. If you masturbate, you’ll become very demanding, expecting lots of orgasms and a life filled with erotic delight. Yes. Good for you! Relaxation, reduced stress, and a good night’s sleep are all benefits of masturbation. And buzzing off is a much better reward than a candy bar for finishing that term paper or sending off that business proposal. Masturbation allows you to experiment with new sexual activities in a safe setting. You can try new toys, new fantasies, even a new persona without embarrassment. You can experiment with extended orgasms, multiple orgasms, and ejaculation. You can get messy without worrying about offending a partner’s aesthetics.

• From The Porn Trap: The Essential Guide to Overcoming Problems Caused by Pornography (2008)

  Corey’s relationship with porn took on an urgency and intensity when the circumstances in his life changed: he was involved in a sexless, committed relationship for a long period of time, and he took a job that put him in regular contact with porn, a product that had always intrigued and sexually excited him. These changes were accelerating factors that escalated his involvement with porn and set him up for serious problems later on. Corey’s story provides a helpful framework for identifying and understanding the primary accelerating factors that can seduce a person into a deeper relationship with porn. These include: Associating porn with pleasureHaving frequent and easy access to pornUsing porn to medicate distressHaving difficulty being intimate in relationshipsWe’ll look more closely at each of these accelerators to help you get a better understanding of how they may be affecting your relationship with porn. 1. A Strong Pleasure Bond with Porn Even though Corey had misgivings about porn when he was young because of its association with masturbation, his automatic reaction to it was consistently one of sexual excitement and pleasure. As a product, there wasn’t much about porn’s content that upset him or turned him off. Like many other porn users, Corey was drawn to it because of its ability to satisfy his curiosity and produce a pleasurable feeling in his body. Starting with his earliest experiences with porn, he developed a strong association with it as something that would quickly bring him intense pleasure. Positive feelings about porn are often reinforced by how effective and convenient it can be as tool for masturbation. Marie, a forty-three-year-old accountant, said, “When I discovered masturbating to pornography there was no going back. Plain masturbation was boring. With porn it was just a lot better. I could really get into the moment with the sex I was watching on cable TV. It was a big high.” Porn’s ability to deliver appealing sexual fantasies is another reason some people associate it with pleasure. Dan, a man in his twenties, likes that porn instantly envelops him in a fantasy of abundant sexual possibilities. He said, “Pornography gives me the feeling that I’m with a continuous, willing sexual partner who is always available whenever I want or need sex.” In the sexual fantasy arena, porn caters particularly to the sexual interests and needs of men. In porn you just have to show up and the woman will give herself sexually without any questions asked. The fantasy of a woman who wants him can be pleasurable to even the most macho guy. Men often experience having to “knock on doors” and ask if they are welcome and can come in when it comes to sex. Men can feel an intense pleasure bond with porn because when they are using it they don’t run the risk of sexual rejection or critique.

• From The Vagina Monologues (1998)

  [image file=image_rsrc2KV.jpg] “What does a vagina smell like?” Earth. Wet garbage. God. Water. A brand-new morning. Depth. Sweet ginger. Sweat. Depends. Musk. Me. No smell, I’ve been told. Pineapple. Chalice essence. Paloma Picasso. Earthy meat and musk. Cinnamon and cloves. Roses. Spicy musky jasmine forest, deep, deep forest. Damp moss. Yummy candy. The South Pacific. Somewhere between fish and lilacs. Peaches. The woods. Ripe fruit. Strawberry-kiwi tea. Fish. Heaven. Vinegar and water. Light, sweet liquor. Cheese. Ocean. Sexy. A sponge. The beginning. RECLAIMING CUNTI call it cunt. I’ve reclaimed it, “cunt.” I really like it. “Cunt.” Listen to it. “Cunt.” C C, Ca Ca. Cavern, cackle, clit, cute, come—closed c—closed inside, inside ca—then u—then cu—then curvy, inviting sharkskin u—uniform, under, up, urge, ugh, ugh, u—then n then cun—snug letters fitting perfectly together—n—nest, now, nexus, nice, nice, always depth, always round in uppercase, cun, cun—n a jagged wicked electrical pulse—n [high-pitched noise] then soft n—warm n—cun, cun, then t—then sharp certain tangy t—texture, take, tent, tight, tantalizing, tensing, taste, tendrils, time, tactile, tell me, tell me “Cunt cunt,” say it, tell me “Cunt.” “Cunt.” I ASKED A SIX-YEAR-OLD GIRL:“If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?” “Red high-tops and a Mets cap worn backward.” “If it could speak, what would it say?” “It would say words that begin with ‘V’ and ‘T’—‘turtle’ and ‘violin’ are examples.” “What does your vagina remind you of?” “A pretty dark peach. Or a diamond I found from a treasure and it’s mine.” “What’s special about your vagina?” “Somewhere deep inside it I know it has a really really smart brain.” “What does your vagina smell like?” “Snowflakes.” THE WOMAN WHO LOVED TO MAKE VAGINAS HAPPYI love vaginas. I love women. I do not see them as separate things. Women pay me to dominate them, to excite them, to make them come. I did not start out like this. No, to the contrary: I started out as a lawyer. But in my late thirties, I became obsessed with making women happy. There were so many unfulfilled women. So many women who had no access to their sexual happiness. It began as a mission of sorts, but then I got involved in it. I got very good at it, kind of brilliant. It was my art. I started getting paid for it. It was as if I had found my calling. Tax law seemed completely boring and insignificant then.

• From The Vagina Bible (2019)

  Do not use creams and ointments with salicylic acid or retinol (common in face creams) as they could be irritating. Avoid any product that claims to brighten the vulva—0.5 percent of women report they currently or have previously used these. Topical skin lightening products work by affecting the production of melanin, the pigment that produces skin color. They typically contain one or more of the following: ascorbic acid (vitamin C), retinoic acid, alpha hydroxy acid, or salicylic acid. Hydroxyquinone is available in the U.S., but it is banned in Europe. These products have not been tested for the vulva, and many of them are irritants. Another concern is there is a robust market for illegal skin whiteners, and dangerous ingredients like mercury have been found in products from Europe and Asia. Melanocytes and melanin are part of your immune system, and so there could be ramifications beyond the irritation of the products. If you have dark patches that bother you, see a health care provider and get the right diagnosis. If the issue is a generalized but mild darkening of your labia and/or around the anus, the most likely cause is changes from chronic hair removal. Where Should I Apply a Moisturizer? The labia majora, the perineum (between the vaginal opening and the anus), and on the skin around the anus. Try not to get it in the vagina or anus, although it is fine if coconut or olive oil find their way to those areas. Any Other Issues? Any product with an oil is not compatible with latex condoms. We have no data to say how long you should wait after application of an oil so you don’t compromise the integrity of a latex condom. A few hours is probably fine, but that is a best guess and should not be taken as gospel. If you do use coconut oil, make sure everyone in the house knows the coconut oil in the bathroom is for bathroom use. A good friend was eating some cookies one night that her fourteen-year-old daughter had made. When she asked about the ingredients, her daughter replied that she had used coconut oil. There was a pregnant pause as my friend mentally calculated that the location of the only remaining jar of coconut oil was in her bathroom. She was now faced with a moral dilemma: should she tell the family they were eating vulva cookies or not? Bath Bombs and Bubble Bath Bath bombs and bubble baths give a lot of people a lot of pleasure. They are pretty, smell nice, and add an extra element of self-care. Many of these products are sold under the guise of wellness, meaning the promise of something medical. The smell and the softness of the water may be pleasing and help you relax, but the skin softness and emollient properties offer no lasting benefit. The reason to use these products is simply joy. That is how I think about wellness: does it bring you joy?

• From Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years, Part 2 (4 BCE – 451 CE) (2009)

  praise of the Festival of Christmas in images of a riot of wealth, hospitality and also – audaciously, but just like Jesus before him – wild looting: Behold, the First-Born has opened His feast-day for us like a treasure-house. This one day, the [most] perfect in the year, alone opens this treasure-house. Come, let us prosper and become rich from it before it is closed. Blessed are the vigilant who plunder from it the spoils of life. It is a great disgrace if one sees his neighbour carrying away treasures, yet he in the treasure-house reposes and sleeps to come out empty-handed. On this feast let everyone garland the door of his heart. May the Holy Spirit desire to enter in its door to dwell and sanctify. For behold, She moves about to all the doors [to see] where She may dwell.68 Ephrem’s musical precedent remains one of the most widely appreciated (if not always acknowledged) legacies of Syrian Christianity. His achievement prompted the writing of hymns in Greek, and the result has been that all Eastern liturgy has become far more based on poetry and hymns than the liturgy of the Western Latin Church. The Syriac musical tradition contains hymns sung in vigorous repetitive metre, a very different sound from that of the Greek or Russian Orthodox tradition. Moreover, preserved in the worship of Syriac Orthodox Christians from Edessa, who were expelled in the 1920s and are now living just over the border in the Syrian city of Aleppo, there is a distinctive form of liturgical music in chant and hymns. This is a proud heritage for the descendants of the refugees in Aleppo who have formed the Church of St George; it is likely to represent a living tradition from the oldest known musical performance in Christian history.69 But music is only part of the Syriac legacy. Music is an aspect of worship. In the Syrian Churches, principally the Church known as the Church of the East (about which we will have much more to say in Chapters 7 and 8), but also parts of the Church which over the centuries have accepted the authority of the Catholic Church of the West, there remains a regularly used form of prayer for the Eucharist which is the most reliably ancient of any in Christianity. Today this prayer is the heart of a structure of eucharistic worship for the Church’s year and

• From The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus (2007)

  In this system, Jesus is more the guru who leads all to enlightenment than he is the one who, singularly, teaches the correct interpretation of Torah and dies on behalf of humanity.1 When the Johannine Jesus states, “No one comes to the Father except through me,” he can even be seen as precluding any individual Christian or any church from determining the soteriological verdict. If Jesus is the Way, then only he determines entrance to heaven. The following scenario offers an alternative view to the restricted message: After a long and happy life, I find myself at the pearly gates (a sight of great joy; the word for “pearl” in Greek is, by the way, margarita ). Standing there is St. Peter. This truly is heaven, for finally my academic questions will receive answers. I immediately begin the questions that have been plaguing me for half a century: “Can you speak Greek? Where did you go when you wandered off in the middle of Acts? How was the incident between you and Paul in Antioch resolved? What happened to your wife?” Peter looks at me with some bemusement and states, “Look, lady, I’ve got a whole line of saved people to process. Pick up your harp and slippers here, and get the wings and halo at the next table. We’ll talk after dinner.” As I float off, I hear, behind me, a man trying to gain Peter’s attention. He has located a “red letter Bible,” which is a text in which the words of Jesus are printed in red letters. This is heaven, and all sorts of sacred art and Scriptures, from the Bhagavad Gita to the Qur’an, are easily available (missing, however, was the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version ). The fellow has his Bible open to John 14, and he is frenetically pointing at v. 6: “Jesus says here, in red letters, that he is the way. I’ve seen this woman on television (actually, she’s thinner in person). She’s not Christian; she’s not baptized—she shouldn’t be here!” “Oy,” says Peter, “another one—wait here.” He returns a few minutes later with a man about five foot three with dark hair and eyes. I notice immediately that he has holes in his wrists, for when the empire executes an individual, the circumstances of that death cannot be forgotten. “What is it, my son?” he asks. The man, obviously nonplussed, sputters, “I don’t mean to be rude, but didn’t you say that no one comes to the Father except through you?” “Well,” responds Jesus, “John does have me saying this.” (Waiting in line, a few other biblical scholars who overhear this conversation sigh at Jesus’s phrasing; a number of them remain convinced that Jesus said no such thing.

• From White Oleander (1999)

  I NEVER SPENT more time with anyone than I spent with Claire Richards the week that followed. I could tell she’d never been around kids. She took me with her to the dry cleaner’s, the bank, like she was afraid to leave me alone for a moment, as if I were five and not fifteen. For a week, we ate out of paper cartons and jars with foreign writing on the labels from the Chalet Gourmet. Soft runny wedges of cheese, crusty baguettes, wrinkly Greek olives. Dark red proscuitto and honeydew melon, rose-scented diamonds of baklava. She didn’t eat much, but urged me to finish the roast beef, the grapefruit sweet as an orange. After three months with Cruella, I didn’t need urging. We sat over our living room picnics and I told her stories about my mother, about the homes, avoiding anything too ugly, too extreme. I knew how to do this. I told her about my mother, but only the good things. I wasn’t a complainer, I wouldn’t end up saying bad things about you, Claire Richards. She showed me her photo albums and scrapbooks. I didn’t recognize her in the pictures. She was very shy, I could hardly imagine her in front of an audience, but I saw from her albums that in character, she didn’t even resemble her normal self. She sang, she danced, she wept on her knees with a veil over her head. She laughed in a low-cut blouse, a sword in her hand. “That’s Threepenny Opera, ” she said. “We did it at Yale.” She was Lady Macbeth, before that the daughter in ’Night, Mother . Catherine in Suddenly, Last Summer . She didn’t act much anymore. She slid her garnet heart pendant along its chain, tucked it under her ripe lower lip. “I get so tired of it. You spend hours getting ready, drag yourself to the call, where they look at you for two seconds and decide you’re too ethnic. Too classic. Too something.” “Too ethnic?” Her wide pale forehead, her glossy hair. “It means brunette.” She smiled. One front tooth was crooked, it crossed just slightly over the other one. “Too small means breasts. Classic means old. It’s not a very nice business, I’m afraid. I still go out, but it’s an exercise in futility.” I wiped the last of the Boursin cheese out of the container with my finger. “Why do it then?” “What, and give up show business?” She laughed so easily, when she was happy, but also when she was sad. THE NEW Beverly Cinema was right around the corner from her house. They were playing King of Hearts and Children of Paradise , and we bought a giant popcorn and laughed and cried and laughed at each other crying. I used to go there all the time with my mother, but the movies were different. She didn’t like weepy films. She liked to quote D. H.

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

  Would the doctor friend have qualified or corrected his diagnosis had he know that, for a while, when my partners abandoned me on the bed, the table or the floor after making love, they left a body that was as stiff as a corpse? Luckily, it wasn’t like that every time, but, as far as I can remember, when the pleasure had been intense, my muscles would go into spasm. I was never frightened. It didn’t last long. The same symptoms occurred once when I had an abortion, and the gynaecologist said that I was lacking in calcium. It wasn’t even painful. It just happened like proof that something incomprehensible had happened in my body, which no longer belonged to me. The paralysis prolonged my lethargy. I obviously wondered whether, as well as the salt deficiency, there wasn’t also some subconscious motivation. Was I holding back my body before or after orgasm? To avoid it or to prolong it? The symptom disappeared and I forgot to answer the question. Then the opposite sort of behaviour occurred. Instead of tensing when on the edge of the abyss, I would drown in my own tears. I would let go of all my tension with noisy, uninhibited sobs. I cried in a way you hardly ever do in adult life, the heart filled with sorrow. The tension had to be particularly high, exceptional even; perhaps more so than other women, I have a long way to go to reach ecstasy, and my tears are a little like those of an exhausted athlete awarded their first medal. A few of my partners were terrified, they were afraid they had hurt me. But they were tears of hopeless joy. I had jettisoned everything, but all that everything was only this: the body I had offered was just a breath of air, and the one I held and kissed was already light years away. So utterly destitute, how could I not express my distress? Even the most violent onslaughts don’t get the better of me. You have to absorb the shocks, and when I end up with the small of my back crushed down onto the mattress, I feel too weighty for any form of Ascension. When I am well prepared I prefer certain tiny adjustments which conversely imply that I weigh nothing. A brief gesture from one particular man struck me as quite divine; he was much taller than me, and he would gently drum his fingers in the small of my back. His attentiveness was so well honed as to be mechanical: the housewife doing her dusting. Three or four sharp little taps and I rose into the air like a sheet of paper in a draught. It made my cunt take in another few millimetres of his cock. It was enough.