Longing

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 Erotic Mind (1995)

  Lust connects us with our animal passions and brings us closer to primitive energies and motivations, which is precisely why it is so often feared. So it’s crucial to realize that lusty urges are most affirming when they are woven into the fabric of everyday life. Conversely, lust is most likely to turn destructive when it is split off from the rest of life, banished to a dark corner where it festers and grows hostile. Lust, by its very nature, objectifies, at least to a degree, but if you experience lust as an integral part of your total self, lusty objectification is balanced by your capacities to empathize with and respect others. And so, for example, while you may fantasize about taking someone sexually against his or her will (or about being taken), you will be able to draw a clear line between fantasy and behavior. Built into many a lusty fantasy or encounter is a hidden hope for more. In someone who experiences the full range of human needs, fears, and dreams, lust is sometimes the most tangible expression of a desire to reach out, to overcome physical separation and loneliness. How often has a momentary, casual turn-on ignited a desire for another moment with that particular person? More often than you might think. ROMANTIC ATTRACTIONSRomantic attractions share with lusty ones a compelling response to a fascinating other. But whereas lust’s primary objectives are arousal and orgasm, romantic attractions always include a craving for a mutual passionate bond with the other person. The romantic urge usually aspires to an even deeper goal—no less than personal transformation through the temporary joining of two separate beings. Whereas lusty energy flows from the groin, romantic attractions are experienced as emanating from the heart, although it is usually a meeting of eyes that first alerts you to the possibility of romance. Historically, psychologists have been reluctant to study romantic love, preferring to leave the subject to poets, philosophers, and artists, who presumably are more at home with the fundamental irrationality of love. In Freudian psychology the search for lost wholeness is associated with an impossible attempt to regain the symbiotic relationship we enjoyed as infants at the breast or even in the womb. To this day many psychoanalysts view romantic desires as regressive, neurotic, and immature. But because the chief concerns of psychoanalysis are the unconscious and the erotic impulses, insightful practitioners have returned repeatedly to the mysteries of love.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Think back to a time when you remember longing for someone who wasn’t easily available. When you finally did get together, I would guess that you felt joyful, not to mention aroused, and probably not at all angry—at least not consciously. If, however, your separations were extended and frequent, perhaps you resented the same unavailability that excited you. I’ve often wondered how much of the white-hot excitement of reuniting lovers is fueled by subtle resentment, especially when one partner feels more emotionally involved in the relationship and therefore longs more intensely. Tom, age twenty-two, describes such a situation. But unlike most longers, Tom is aware of his resentment: A couple years ago I dated an incredible fox who was fifteen years older than me. Not only was she beautiful, she also owned her own business and knew all the right moves in the sack. But it really bothered me that she was either traveling or in meetings just about every time I wanted to see her. I felt she was blowing me off even though she said she thought about me all the time. One night, as usual, I got her fucking answering machine and became totally pissed off. I drove over to her house and waited in her driveway until she finally pulled in about two hours later. She was glad to see me and we headed straight for the bedroom where I fucked her without mercy until she begged me to stop. She called me more often after that. It’s easy to see the dual meaning of “fuck” in Tom’s story. His tolerance for longing, probably pretty low to begin with, is reduced even further by his insecurity about the relationship. Thus, in a style not at all uncommon for men, Tom converts his vulnerability into angry determination, which seems to have an aphrodisiac effect on both of them. One of the most important erotic uses of anger, especially for males, is the neutralization of anxiety. It’s also easy to see the footprints of jealousy all over this story, another unpleasant but potent sexual intensifier in which anger is combined with insecurity. You’ve seen how one of the cornerstones, searching for power, can intersect with arousal whenever you take control directly through sexual dominance or follow an indirect route to empowerment by submitting to an aggressive other. Although anger and aggression are often confused, aggression need not be related to anger, just as anger does not necessarily lead to aggression. Sometimes, however, the two do coincide so that the excitement of a top-bottom scenario is tinged with hostility. We’ll take a closer look at hostility as an aphrodisiac when we explore the dark side of eros in the next chapter.

• From Going Clear (2013)

  I have not at any time believed otherwise than that L. Ron Hubbard was a fine and brilliant man. She went on to say, “In the future I wish to lead a quiet and orderly existence with my little girl far away from the enturbulating influences which have ruined my marriage.” (Sara did live a quiet and orderly existence until her death, of breast cancer, in 1997. She explained why she made the tapes, in her last months of life. “I’m not interested in revenge,” she said. “I’m interested in the truth.”) The meeting with the Scientology delegation lasted all day. Sandwiches were brought in. Davis and I discussed an assertion that Marty Rathbun had made to me about the OT III creation story. While Hubbard was in exile, Rathbun said, he wrote a memo suggesting an experiment in which ascending Scientologists might skip the OT III level —a memo Rathbun says that Miscavige had ordered destroyed. “Of every allegation that’s in here,” Davis said, waving the binder containing fact-checking queries, “this one would perhaps be, hands down, the absolutely, without question, most libelous.” He explained that the cornerstone of the faith was the writings of the founder. “Mr. Hubbard’s material must be and is applied precisely as written,” Davis said. “It’s never altered. It’s never changed. And there probably is no more heretical or more horrific transgression that you could have in the Scientology religion than to alter the technology.” But hadn’t certain derogatory references to homosexuality found in some editions of Hubbard’s books been changed after his death? Davis agreed that was so, but he maintained that “the current editions are one-hundred-percent, absolutely fully verified as being according to what Mr. Hubbard wrote.” Davis said they were checked against Hubbard’s original dictation. “The extent to which the references to homosexuality have changed are because of mistaken dictation?” I asked. “No, because of the insertion, I guess, of somebody who was a bigot,” Davis replied. “The point is, it wasn’t Mr. Hubbard.” “Somebody put the material in those—” “I can only imagine,” Davis said, cutting me off. “Who would have done it?” “I have no idea.” “Hmm.” “I don’t think it really matters,” Davis said. “The point is that neither Mr. Hubbard nor the church has any opinion on the subject of anyone’s sexual orientation....” “Someone inserted words that were not his into literature that was propagated under his name, and that’s been corrected now?” I asked, trying to be clear. “Yeah, I can only assume that’s what happened,” Davis said. “And by the way,” he added, referring to Quentin Hubbard, “his son’s not gay.”

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Some people, however, seem unable to achieve such a balance. For them the experience of longing, whether or not they fully realize it, is the centerpiece of their eroticism. No longing, no turn-on—end of story. Relying on subtle signs and well-honed intuition, they are invariably attracted to those who are unavailable, confused, ambivalent, of the “wrong” sexual orientation, or who live far away. They can sniff out long shots and lost causes with amazing precision. Yearning enthusiasts become adept at zeroing in on partners who are somewhat available, or very available part of the time, or who hint that they might become more available in the unspecified future. Longing-based involvements are passionate, stormy, and—at key moments—profoundly moving. Unfortunately, those who genuinely seek long-term relationships often discover that their commitment to longing as the source of excitement turns out to be incompatible with their ultimate goals. The thorniest challenge of longing-based eroticism is neither desire nor arousal—these are easy. The hard part is fulfillment. Maggie: Master of the chase With the wisdom that comes from tough experience, Maggie spoke a fundamental truth: “The most painful relationships to give up are the ones that never were.” She was referring to a year of wrenching grief that had followed the inevitable end of a four-year affair with a married man. But on a deeper level she was summarizing a realization that, with few exceptions, her strongest attractions had always been for men whom, in one way or another, she couldn’t have. Yet she dreamed of an enduring bond with someone who would desire her without reservation and enthusiastically choose to be hers exclusively. She thought she wanted a man she wouldn’t have to pursue. There was no logical explanation for her inability to find such a man. A bright, witty elementary school teacher in her mid-thirties, with a pleasing face, a shapely body, and a smile that exuded kindness, she obviously had much to offer. Over the years several men had pursued her. Yet she voiced a complaint I have heard often: “The ‘normal’ guys—the stable, dependable ones who would make great husbands—bore me. The exciting ones are all spoken for or on the run.” Although her latest affair had been the only one with a married man, four others had many similarities, beginning with an energetic youthfulness she found irresistible. Each also had a flair for adventure, both in and out of bed, and a knack for playful spontaneity. All her lovers had also been unreliable at times and could not be counted on to follow through with plans, return phone calls, or remember special dates—important symbols of love for Maggie.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  As you ponder the distant beginnings of your sexual self—perhaps writing your thoughts in your journal—don’t be surprised if your memories are rather vague. Even fuzzy memory fragments can contain important clues about your erotic development. Notice especially if you can identify any of the four cornerstones in your oldest memories, where your erotic patterns began to form. CORNERSTONE 1: LONGING AND ANTICIPATIONPart of being human is the ability to picture in your mind something or someone you desire but don’t have, or isn’t there in the way you want or as often as you wish. This capacity develops shortly after birth and stays with you for the rest of your life. As a child you undoubtedly remember yearning for Mom when she went away or counting the moments until Dad came home. Or perhaps you created an imaginary playmate, someone you could always count on, who would never disappoint or hurt you. When you yearn for someone, the reality of his or her absence or unavailability is the obstacle you seek to overcome by remembering or fantasizing. According to psychoanalytic theory, the earliest instances of eroticized longing universally occur between the ages of three and five as a desire to possess the parent of the opposite sex. I remain skeptical that these Oedipal urges are anywhere near as universally significant as the Freudians believe, although my research neither supports nor refutes the theory. A great many of The Group’s earliest sexual memories do involve vivid experiences of longing, but only a few—all reported by men—are directed toward a parent. Hank writes: I know I was very young when I became obsessed with getting my mother to hold me. Now I recognize that thinking about this aroused me at times. The big problem for me was the fact that Mom was a doctor and rarely at home. I was cared for by a series of nannies. Sometimes I even fantasized that I would be taken to her office and be examined as if I were one of her patients. To this day I find myself wanting more attention from the women I date than they are willing or able to give. Hank’s recollection coincides with my observations as a therapist that sexualized longing for a parent is primarily a compensation for lack of availability. After all, longing always directs its attention toward what’s missing or in short supply. Keep in mind, however, that as adults we’re likely to transfer old feelings of longing toward either parent to whomever we desire now, regardless of their gender.

• From Going Clear (2013)

  Thompson had just returned from Vienna, where he had been sent by the Navy to study under Freud. “I was just a kid and Commander Thompson didn’t have any boy of his own and he and I just got along fine,” Hubbard recalls in one of his lectures. “Why he took it into his head to start beating Freud into my head, I don’t know, but he did. And I wanted very much to follow out this work—wanted very much to. I didn’t get a chance. My father ... said, ‘Son, you’re going to be an engineer.’ ” THOMPSON WAS ABOUT to publish a review of psychoanalytic literature in the United States Naval Medical Bulletin; indeed, he may have been working on it as he traveled to Washington, and no doubt he drew upon the thinking reflected in his article when he tutored Hubbard in the basics of Freudian theory. “Man has two fundamental instincts—one for self-preservation and the other for race propagation,” Thompson writes in his review. “The most important emotion of the self-preservation urge is hunger. The sole emotion of the race-propagation urge is libido.” Psychoanalysis, Thompson explains, is the “technic” of discovering unconscious motivations that harm the health or happiness of the individual. Once the patient understands the motives behind his neurotic behavior, his symptoms automatically disappear. “This uncovering of the hidden motive does not consist in the mere explaining to the patient the mechanism of his plight. The understanding alone comes from the analytic technic of free association and subsequent rational synthesis.” Many of these thoughts are deeply embedded in the principles of Dianetics, the foundation of Hubbard’s philosophy of human nature, which predated the establishment of Scientology. In 1927, Hubbard’s father was posted to Guam, and Ledora went along, abandoning Ron to the care of her parents. For a man as garrulous as L. Ron Hubbard turned out to be, reflections on his parents are rare, almost to the point of writing them out of his biography. His story of himself reads like that of an orphan who has invented his own way in the world. One of his lovers later said that he told her that his mother was a whore and a lesbian, and that he had found her in bed with another woman. His mistress also admitted, “I never knew what to believe.” Hubbard made two voyages to visit his parents in Guam. One trip included a detour to China, where he supposedly began his study of Eastern religions after encountering magicians and holy men. According to the church’s narrative, “He braved typhoons aboard a working schooner to finally land on the China coast.... He then made his way inland to finally venture deep into forbidden Buddhist lamaseries.” He watched monks meditating “for weeks on end.”

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Those who, like Grace, must overcome obstacles on the way to an encounter usually engage in tender yet passionate lovemaking once they finally do get together. On the other hand, those like Will, who savor the energy of high-tension relationships, usually engage in rougher, more boisterous sex. KEEPING A DISTANCEBecause the erotic impulse seeks to bridge the space that separates self from other, among the most effective of all enhancing obstacles is distance—physical, emotional, or geographic. When you’re erotically drawn to someone new, the mystery of the unknown creates a realization of distance. This is one reason that visual stimulation is often so crucial to the initiation of sexual interest. Your eyes allow you to reach across the chasm of psychic and physical space, to catch a glimpse of someone who activates your fascination. During flirtation one or both participants play with distance by meeting the other’s gaze and then turning away. Perhaps, like me, you’ve noticed that flirting takes on a special intensity when circumstances make fulfillment impossible, as when the flirters are about to board different planes at an airport, are rushing off to business meetings, or are with other people and not in a position to respond. Over the years I’ve heard many married people say, often with consternation, that they were never so attractive to so many people when single. Partly, of course, their lack of neediness places them in a strong, relaxed position, especially compared to those who are desperately searching for someone. However, there’s no denying that the unavailability of those who are spoken for boosts their erotic appeal enormously. The role of distance in keeping erotic interest high is especially obvious when lovers must overcome the obstacle of geography. Those who are forced to endure an ongoing separation wait eagerly for the next chance to see each other. During periods of reunification, erotic sparks are likely to fly. When such relationships survive—obviously the strains are enormous—they typically retain a high erotic intensity long after their living-together counterparts have settled into more comfortable but sexually cooler routines. In both love and lust, the challenge is to find an optimal distance—neither too close nor too far. If you think of sexual arousal as being like an electric spark, you can easily visualize how the size of the gap separating the two poles is crucial. If the gap grows too large, even the high voltage of strong attraction will be unable to jump it. But if the gap becomes too narrow, especially if the poles continually touch, the circuit is completed, making sparks impossible. No wonder successful long-term lovers must find creative ways to balance their closeness with the separateness necessary for erotic enthusiasm.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Theodore Reik proposed that the romantic urge is motivated by a search for the idealized self. “All love is founded on a dissatisfaction with oneself…” he said. “Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are and, more especially, who you want to be.”5 According to his view, the fascination that draws us magnetically toward that special other is really just a fascination with our own unattainable perfection. Other students of love insist that the essence of love is the need to overcome the ultimate loneliness of existence, a need implicit in the Platonic myth of the divided self. I agree with Ethel Person, a contemporary psychoanalyst who breaks with tradition by asserting that the search for love is not merely an attempt to restore a lost connection with the mother. She acknowledges that the unmet needs and unresolved conflicts of childhood all find expression in the romantic adventure, but insists that the ultimate goal is enlargement of the self. The search for love is a creative project, a great act of imagination that is shaped at least as much by where we are going as by where we have been. One thing is certain: the romantic impulse springs from the deepest levels of the human psyche. THE WAYS OF LIMERENCEPsychologist Dorothy Tennov insists that our language lacks a word for the unique set of emotions, behaviors, and modes of thought that propel us into love. She has a point. “Infatuation” implies a passing fancy, no big deal. Yet falling in love is life-altering, most decidedly a very big deal. “In love” can refer to any or all phases of romance, from the overwhelming preoccupation of new love to the quiet attachment of an established relationship. Dr. Tennov has proposed that we call the initial, most intense experience of romantic love “limerence” and the attractions that draw us toward it “limerent attractions.” Here’s how Dr. Tennov describes the key components of limerence: • Intrusive thinking about the limerent object (LO) • Acute longing for reciprocation • Dependency of mood on the LO’s actions • Inability to react limerently to more than one person at a time • Fear of rejection • Intensification through adversity (at least, up to a point) • An aching of the heart when uncertainty is strong • Buoyancy (walking on air) when reciprocation seems evident • Intensity of feeling that leaves other concerns in the background • Remarkable ability to emphasize what is admirable in the LO and avoid dwelling on the negative6 Dr. Tennov reaches the same conclusion as virtually everyone who has made a serious attempt to probe the motivations of love: what we want most desperately is for the beloved to feel as strongly about us as we do about him or her—which seems the only alternative to rejection and loneliness. In Michael’s story it’s easy to see how everything depends on this reciprocation:

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

  In Burgundy he was kindly received by King Gontran, one of the grandsons of Clovis; refused the offer of wealth, and chose a quiet retreat in the Vosges mountains, first in a ruined Roman fort at Annegray, and afterwards at Luxeuil (Luxovium). Here he established a celebrated monastery on the confines of Burgundy and Austrasia. A similar institution he founded at Fontaines. Several hundred disciples gathered around him. Luxeuil became the monastic capital of Gaul, a nursery of bishops and saints, and the mother of similar institutions. Columbanus drew up a monastic rule, which in all essential points resembles the more famous rule of St. Benedict, but is shorter and more severe. It divides the time of the monks between ascetic exercises and useful agricultural labor, and enjoins absolute obedience on severe penalties. It was afterwards superseded by the Benedictine rule, which had the advantage of the papal sanction and patronage.109 The life of Columbanus in France was embittered and his authority weakened by his controversy with the French clergy and the court of Burgundy. He adhered tenaciously to the Irish usage of computing Easter, the Irish tonsure and costume. Besides, his extreme severity of life was a standing rebuke of the worldly priesthood and dissolute court. He was summoned before a synod in 602 or 603, and defended himself in a letter with great freedom and eloquence, and with a singular mixture of humility and pride. He calls himself (like St. Patrick) "Columbanus, a sinner," but speaks with an air of authority. He pleads that he is not the originator of those ritual differences, that he came to France, a poor stranger, for the cause of Christ, and asks nothing but to be permitted to live in silence in the depth of the forests near the bones of his seventeen brethren, whom he had already seen die. "Ah! let us live with you in this Gaul, where we now are, since we are destined to live with each other in heaven, if we are found worthy to enter there." The letter is mixed with rebukes of the bishops, calculations of Easter and an array of Scripture quotations. At the same time he wrote several letters to Pope Gregory I., one of which only is preserved in the writings of Columbanus. There is no record of the action of the Synod on this controversy, nor of any answer of the Pope. The conflict with the court of Burgundy is highly honorable to Columbanus, and resulted in his banishment. He reproved by word and writing the tyranny of queen Brunehild (or Brunehauld) and the profligacy of her grandson Theodoric (or Thierry II.); he refused to bless his illegitimate children and even threatened to excommunicate the young king. He could not be silenced by flattery and gifts, and was first sent as a prisoner to Besançon, and then expelled from the kingdom in 610.110

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  I was not a smell person. It was my least favorite sense. I didn’t light candles, or wander into a bakery, drawn in by the scent of the bread. Smell was just another sense that I wrestled into my white room. I didn’t use it, I didn’t care about it. I lived in a white room. I lived in a white room. I lived in a white room. But … I was going to miss Isaac’s smell. Isaac was smell. That was his sense. He smelled like spices and the hospital. I could smell his skin, too. He just had to be a few feet away from me and I could catch the smell of his skin. “Isaac.” My voice was full of conviction, but when he turned to face me, hands in pockets, I didn’t know what to say. We stared at each other. It was awful. It was painful. “Senna, what do you want?” I wanted my white room. I wanted to never have smelled him or heard the words to his music. “I don’t know.” He took a step backwards, toward the door. I wanted to step toward him. I wanted to. “Senna…” He took another step back, like he wanted me to stop him. He’s giving me a chance, I thought. Three more and he would be out the door. I felt the pull. It was in the hollows behind my kneecaps, something tugging me to him. I wanted to reach down and still it. Another step. Another. His eyes were pleading with me. It was no use. I was too far gone. “Goodbye, Isaac.” I took it as a loss. I thought so anyway. It had been a long time since I had mourned a person—twenty years, to be exact. But I mourned Isaac Asterholder in my own way. I didn’t cry; I was too dry to cry. Every day I touched the spot where Nick’s book used to sit on my nightstand. Dust was starting to fill the space. Nick was something to me. We shared a life. Isaac and I had shared nothing. Or maybe that wasn’t true. We shared my tragedies. People leave—that’s what I was used to—but Isaac showed up. I sat in my white room for days trying to clear myself of all the color I was suddenly feeling: red bikes, lyrics with thorns, the smell of herbs. I sat on the floor with my dress pulled over my knees and my head curled into my lap. The white room couldn’t cure me. Color stained everything. Seven days after he walked backwards out of my house I went to the mailbox and on my way back, found a CD on my windshield. I clutched it to my chest for an hour before I slipped it into my stereo. It was an intense crescendo of lyrics and drums and harp and everything he was feeling—and I was, too. The most remarkable thing was that I was feeling.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  This fantasy has always given me such a thrill because it’s a secret me that hardly anyone sees. I take after my mom who’s always worried what others think. She’s so uptight. But I was a sexy girl, always very interested in naked bodies. I knew by her complete silence on the subject that Mom hated sex. I had no choice but to adopt her demeanor. On the surface I gave in to her by becoming the perfect child. But I wasn’t about to let her de-sex me! In my fantasies I’m as wild as I want to be. Unfortunately, I wish I could be more that way with my husband. I like sex with him but I’m rather inhibited much of the time. But if it weren’t for my fantasies I’d probably be as asexual as my mom. Felicia understands the role of her CET: to act out without reservation the eroticism that she suppressed in deference to her mother. Her CET both expresses and solves her predicament as a sexy girl growing up in an antisexual environment. In her secret fantasy life she nurtures erotic vitality while providing an outlet for the repressed aspects of her personality. PORNOGRAPHY, EROTICA, AND YOUR CETWe’ve seen how the CET, as a product of the imagination, is often expressed most clearly in fantasy. It’s not unusual, though, for both men and women to use external stimulation such as sexually explicit stories or pictures to ignite their imaginations. If you enjoy these materials, studying the ones that move you may give you valuable insights into the content of your CET. Visual porn, the most popular kind produced by and for men, is relatively generic in the sense that a succession of sexy acts can serve as erotic cues for a wide range of fantasies. The focus is on raw, unencumbered lust. Toward that end, most male porn makes a point of creating a sleazy atmosphere to set it apart clearly from everyday reality. Also common are variations on themes of dominance and submission, male prowess (symbolized by huge genitals and buckets of semen), and group sex with two or more women, often including sexual interactions between the women—all for the entertainment of the man, of course. But the primary focus is on erogenous zones in states of feverish interaction. Pornography produced by and for women, while not devoid of wanton lust, sleaze, or power scenes, virtually always has a context. There is a lead-in to generate a mood and anchor the characters in at least a minimal relationship, even if coercion or rape will become part of the story. Although women may want their erotica to have a plot, often a romantic one, research has shown that when it comes to producing genital arousal, explicit sex is what turns women on—just as it does men. But women don’t always realize they’re aroused.7

• From Going Clear (2013)

  He carried around a backpack full of books on Buddhism and the works of Jiddu Krishnamurti. Although it is easy to see in hindsight that the nineteen- year-old Mark Rathbun was primed, because of his troubled background and questing philosophy, to become a part of the Church of Scientology, it wasn’t clear to him at the time. His current spiritual mentor, Krishnamurti, preached against the idea of messiahs, but he also stated that every individual has the responsibility for discovering the causes of his own limitations in order to attain universal spiritual and psychological freedom. That resonated with Hubbard’s aim of “clearing the planet.” Psychotherapy had evolved somewhat from the indignities that had been inflicted on their mother; it had moved into pharmacology. But drugs didn’t seem to offer a solution to Bruce’s problems; in Mark’s opinion, his brother was just being warehoused, held in a chemical straitjacket. Rathbun got a job as a short-order cook at Dave’s Deli, and each day, when he went to the bus stop in downtown Portland on his way to the hospital, he would pass the Scientology mission on Salmon Street. He would banter with the Scientology recruiters and soon got to know them by name. One day, he told a recruiter, “I’ve got ten minutes. Why don’t you give me your best shot?” The Scientologist started pitching the Hubbard communications course, which at the time cost fifty dollars. It immediately appealed to Rathbun. “The problem is, I’ve only got twenty-five bucks to my entire name,” he said. The recruiter let him take the course, and threw in a copy of Dianetics as well. In that first course, Rathbun went exterior. It was completely real to him. All the Eastern philosophy he had absorbed had been leading to this moment. He finally realized that he was separate from his body. Hadn’t this been the point of the Buddha’s teachings—to isolate the spirit and end the repetitive cycle of life and death? From that moment on, Rathbun never looked back. He was transformed. Another recruiter persuaded Rathbun that he would be better able to deal with his brother’s problems if he had more training, which he could afford if he joined the Sea Org. Rathbun signed the billion-year contract in January 1978. 6 A few months later, Rathbun was sent to work in LA. One night, he was assigned to escort Diane Colletto, the twenty-five-year-old editor of Scientology’s Auditor magazine, from the publications building to the Scientology complex in Hollywood where they both lived. It was late at night on August 19, 1978. Diane was a petite and mousy intellectual, with thick glasses. A diligent worker, she was often the last to leave the office. On this night, she was frightened.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  I see the cover—the words, the oranges and teals that make up the pattern of a woman’s dress. You can only see the back of her, but her arms are spread wide, her blonde hair cascading down her back. The Fall. The fall of my mother. I wonder if she wrote this for me. Is that too much to ask? An explanation for your abandoned daughter … your china doll? My mother is a narcissist. She wrote this for herself, to feel better for leaving me. I flip open the cover and search for a picture on the dust jacket. There is none. I wonder if she’s still pretty. If she still wears flower skirts and headbands. She writes under the name Cecily Crowe. I grin. Her real name was Sarah Marsh. She hated the normalcy of it. Cecily Crowe lives everywhere. She does not believe in dogs or cats. This is her first novel, and probably her last. I close the book; slide it back into the space it came from. I have no desire to read it again, not even in order with page numbers. I got to know my mother in a discombobulated way. I am her china doll. She mourned me a little, but not enough. I can’t fault her for running—I’ve been running my entire life; bad blood, maybe. Or maybe she taught me, and someone taught her. I don’t know. We can’t blame our parents for everything. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s just the way it is. I walk out of the store. I put her to rest. [image file=image45.jpg] Three months after I get home, I drive to the hospital to see Isaac. I don’t know if he wants to see me. He hasn’t tried to contact me since I’ve been back. It hurts after the emotional violence we experienced together, but it’s not like I tried to contact him either. I wonder if he told Daphne everything. Maybe that’s why… I don’t know what to say. What to feel. Relief because we both survived? Do we talk about what happened? I miss him. Sometimes I wish we could go back, and that’s just sick. I feel as if I have Stockholm Syndrome, but not for a person—for a house in the snow. I pull into a space and sit in my car for at least an hour, picking at the rubber on the steering wheel. I called ahead, so I know he’s here. I don’t know what it’s going to feel like to see him. I held his body while he was dying. He held mine. We survived something together. How do you stand back and shake someone’s hand in the real world when you were clutched together in a nightmare? I fling open my car door and it cracks against the side of an already beat up minivan. “Sorry,” I tell it, before stepping away.

• From Mud Vein (2014)

  He is sitting; a loner in an airport chair, watching the passers-by with apprehension on his face. It’s a fine mental picture. Nick sees me as soon as I step out from my hiding place. When I walk toward him, he quickly stands. He embraces me without hesitation and with so much familiarity, my heart does a lurch. Maybe this is the spark. He knows me. He knows what to say, what not to say. He speaks the language of my face, and waits for my expression to dictate his tone. That’s what time does. It gives you space to learn each other. I soften into his embrace. It’s no use fighting something like this. “Brenna.” He breathes my name into my hair. I want to say his name, to return it, but my words are clotted in my throat. “You ready?” he asks. “Do you have a bag?” I shake my head. “I have nothing.” He takes my hand and leads me to the parking garage. He has a rental car. I fold into the front seat and stare at him. He is the only person I can stare at like this and not feel completely awkward. The entire ride home I wait for him to ask me about it. Anything. Something. Anything. Why isn’t he asking? It’s unfair of me to expect it. Nick has never pried. He waits, and he knows that with me you can wait forever. But now I’m accustomed to something new. Funny how that can happen. Now I’m mentally begging him to ask me something. Anything. I feel the change in myself as the wheels of the car spray up water on the highway. When did that move in? I don’t even know. In a house in the snow, probably. Where a surgeon sliced me open emotionally, and a musician brought me more color than I could handle. It’s summertime in Washington. More’s the pity. When we reach my house there are reporters outside. They look sleepy until they see the car turn into the driveway. I wonder how long they have been camped here. I flew into Seattle under my real name to avoid this. Grabbing, scrambling, straightening hair, I look away from them and point Isaac toward the garage on one side of my circular driveway. Nick. I point Nick toward the garage. I rub my forehead. Since I don’t have keys, we will have to go through the garage to get in the house. I tell him the code for the garage door, and he hops out and punches it in. They can’t climb my driveway, but I hear them at the bottom, calling out my name. Senna! Senna Richards! Did you know Dr. Elgin was behind your kidnapping? Senna, tell us what it was like to—? Senna, have you seen Isaac Asterholder since—? Senna, did you think you were going to die? Then the garage closes, muting their cacophony. Boom! Boom! Boom! Goes my heart…

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  This is where we come to offer a wholly different answer to the question above, why do we love the cosmic (or any other) good? This answer points no t to the intrinsic loveability of the object but to certain inclinations implanted in the subject. It is an answer of this kind that the word 'affection' suggests to a modern. T he explanation turns on a feature of the lov er 's motivation. This is not to say that a 'modern' explanation has to see goods as merely 'subjective', as shadows cast by the subject on a neutral uni verse, which is what the 'projection' theories of ethics I di scussed in Part I h old. This ha s obviously been a major tendency of modern accounts, one of their majo r temptatio ns, we might say. But this is not the only p ossible rea so n for a n inward turn. There has been a strand of Christian th ou ght , as we have recurrently seen, whi c h has no t accommodated easily to the ordered cosmos as the measure of the good. For Luther, m a n was t o be understood not primarily as animal rationale, but as homo re l igiosus. Humans long for God. Within this perspective, it is quite possible to conceive that our starting point in the searc h for the highest good might lie within-in our longing and our s ense of inco mp leteness. This after all is just a transp osition of Aug ustine' s f avoure d path to a proof of th e existence of God, through an awareness of m y Moral Sentiments · 2.57 imperfection. Pascal was the first to explore this disquiet in thoroughly modern tim es, which remain relevant today. In the next chapter, we shall see a Deist theory which makes our inner motivation central, but which is nevertheless not projectivist. And even outside a theist ic perspective, it is q uite possible to conceive that t he best theory o f the good, that which gives the best account of the worth o f th ings and lives as they are open to us to discern, may be a th o roughly realist one-indeed, that is the view I want to defend, wit h out wanting to make a cl ai m about how things stand for the universe 'in itself ' or for a un i verse in which there were no human beings. A realistic view is perfectly compatible with the thesis that the boundaries of the good, as we can grasp it, are set by that space which is opened i n the fact that the world is there for us, with all the meaning s it has for us-what Heidegger called 'the cleari n g'.

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  I will try to do justice to the differences and not fall into too seamless a picture of the c o ntinuities. But all things considered, I think this danger is the lesser one in our rimes. If we return t o the issue of articulacy, we c a n see that o ne of the importan t d i sco ntin u i ties is that we often feel ourselves less able than our f o rebears to be art ic ulat e. I mentioned in the first chapter how people are often at a loss t o s ay w hat underpins their sense of the respect owed to people's rights (s e cti on 1 . 1 ), and later ( 1.4) how tradi ti onal frameworks have become p r o ble mat ic for us, and how much our articulations are expl o ratory. Iris M u rd oc h, w ho defends a view which has plainly drawn a great deal from �l a t o, s tr esses that the good is something which is "non-representable and i nd e fin a b le. " 4 An d it e merges, too, in the way that emp o wering images and stories fu n ct ion in our time. Some of the most powerful have their roots in religious a nd p h il os ophic al d octrines which many moder ns have abandoned. O ne may n� t _ b e a b le to substit ute for the theological o r metaphysical beliefs which � ngt n ally und erpinned them; but the i m ages still inspire us. O r perhaps e tt e r, t h ey g o on pointing to something whic h remains for us a moral source, s o m e th i ng the contemplation, respect, or love of which enables us to g et 96 • IDENTITY AND THE GOOD closer to what is good. Murdoch's theory of the "sovereignty of 'good' ", j us t mentioned, is a case i n point. No one today can accept the Platon i c meta p hysic of the Ideas as the cr u cial explanation of the shape of the cosmo s . And yet the image of the Good as the sun, in the light of which we can s e e things clearly and with a kind of dispassionate love, does crucial work f or her. It helps d efine th e direction of attention and desire through which alon e, s he believes, we can become good. 5 Anothe r exa mple , this time fr om the Jewish and Christian religio us traditions, has been explored by Michael Walzer. 6 The story of the Exodu s has ins p ired movements of reform and l iberation throughout the centurie s , even those which claimed to reject the theological outlook which the origin al st ory proclaims.

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  Habermas's speech model certainly gives us reason to be less pessimistic about democracy and self-management than Adorno was, because we can see how the advance of instrumental control over nature doesn't have to mean a p arallel growth of instrumental control over people. Habermas thus corrects Adorno's estimate of the public consequences of instrumentalism. But why should this alter our view of the experiential consequences? The fact that the s elf i s co nst ituted through exchange in language (and, as I indicat ed in Part I, I strongly ag ree with Habermas on this) d oesn't in any way guarantee us JIO. CONCLUSION against loss of meanin g , fra g mentation, the los s of substance in our hum a n environment and our affiliations. Habermas, rather like Bellah and his a ssociates, elides the experiential problem under the public, a s though t h e two could be solved for the price of one. What gets lost from view here is not the demands of expressive f u lfilment, b ecause Habermas does take account of these-they have their own differ e ntiated sphere of m od ern rationality, alongside the m o ral-practical and t he cognitive-instrume n tal. Rather, what cannot be fitted into his grid is what th e last two chapters have been mainly occupied with, the search for mor a l sources outside the subject through languages which res onate within him or h er, the grasping of an order which is inseparably indexed to a per so nal v 1s1on. Habermas's conception of m od ernity, which is partly inspired by Weber, is in this res pect in line with a widespread v i ew. It allows that t he re wa s a premodem sense that humans were p art of a larger order, but it sees the dev elopment of modern rationality precisely as showin g the incoherence o f this view. It h as differentiated the varied strands of reason, and the old se nse o f order falls between the strands. Now there can be ( 1) a scientific attemp t to know the world as objectified, i.e., as no longer seen in terms of its meanings for us; (2.) the attempt of practical reason to determine the right; a nd ( 3) explorations of subjective expressive integrity and authenticity. 24 But there is no coherent place left for an exploration of the order in which we are set as a locus of moral sources, what Rilke, Pound, Lawrence, and Mann were doin g in their radically different ways. Th is is not ( 1) because they are not trying to objectify this order; on the contrary. It is not (2. ) because Habermas has a procedural co nc eptio n o f practical reason. It is not (3) because that is concerned purely with subjective expression.

• From Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (1989)

  We can discover how t o be at one with nature , how to unl oc k its se c rets, by turning within . "Inward goes the way full of mystery", as Novalis puts it.13 G oeth e af fir med that "human nature knows itself one with the world. Mankind can he sure that the outer world is an a n swering counterpoint to the se nsatio n s of the inner world". And Wordsworth in the Preface to the Lyrical Ballads states as the poet's essential faith that "he considers man and nature as essentially adapted to each other, and the mind of man as naturally the mirror of the fairest and more interesting qualities of nature" .14 Self-articulation can t hus he in harmony with, can further the revelation of, the spirit in thin gs. Th at is, of course , what gives rise to the denigrating picture of Roman t icism as c oncerne d simply with se l f- expression, which emerges too easily in its condem nat i ons in the mo uth of a Hulme or an Eliot. This is a calu mn y, as 4 62. • SUBTLER LANGUAGES I pointed out above; though the charge is properly levelled at some of th e sub -Paterian post-Symbolism of the turn of the century, it is not true of th e grea t Romantics. 1 5 But in the very pre-established harmony between self-a nd world-articulation lies the pretext for the false accusations. This harmony is no lo nge r compatible, however, with a picture of inner and outer nature which has absorbed the impact of scientific biology an d Schopenhauer. And it must be even less acceptable to those in the Baud e lairean st ream who, like Hulme, have set their faces against the 'Romant ic' belief in the inherent goodne ss of man and nature. That harmony was th e foundation of the Romantic epiphanies o f being, which for the modernists became just as una cc e ptable when they reposed on the supposed goodness o f inner impulse as when they were based on the alleged expression of spirit in nature. What remained was the post - Nietz schean notion of nature as an immense amoral fo r ce, with which we o u ght to recover c ontact, whic h was evident in different forms in Fauvism, for instance, or in early Stravinsky, or in D. H.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Lust connects us with our animal passions and brings us closer to primitive energies and motivations, which is precisely why it is so often feared. So it’s crucial to realize that lusty urges are most affirming when they are woven into the fabric of everyday life. Conversely, lust is most likely to turn destructive when it is split off from the rest of life, banished to a dark corner where it festers and grows hostile. Lust, by its very nature, objectifies, at least to a degree, but if you experience lust as an integral part of your total self, lusty objectification is balanced by your capacities to empathize with and respect others. And so, for example, while you may fantasize about taking someone sexually against his or her will (or about being taken), you will be able to draw a clear line between fantasy and behavior. Built into many a lusty fantasy or encounter is a hidden hope for more. In someone who experiences the full range of human needs, fears, and dreams, lust is sometimes the most tangible expression of a desire to reach out, to overcome physical separation and loneliness. How often has a momentary, casual turn-on ignited a desire for another moment with that particular person? More often than you might think. ROMANTIC ATTRACTIONSRomantic attractions share with lusty ones a compelling response to a fascinating other. But whereas lust’s primary objectives are arousal and orgasm, romantic attractions always include a craving for a mutual passionate bond with the other person. The romantic urge usually aspires to an even deeper goal—no less than personal transformation through the temporary joining of two separate beings. Whereas lusty energy flows from the groin, romantic attractions are experienced as emanating from the heart, although it is usually a meeting of eyes that first alerts you to the possibility of romance. Historically, psychologists have been reluctant to study romantic love, preferring to leave the subject to poets, philosophers, and artists, who presumably are more at home with the fundamental irrationality of love. In Freudian psychology the search for lost wholeness is associated with an impossible attempt to regain the symbiotic relationship we enjoyed as infants at the breast or even in the womb. To this day many psychoanalysts view romantic desires as regressive, neurotic, and immature. But because the chief concerns of psychoanalysis are the unconscious and the erotic impulses, insightful practitioners have returned repeatedly to the mysteries of love.

• From The Erotic Mind (1995)

  Situations in which we actually get a taste of what we crave, but not total fulfillment, are particularly likely to stay with or even obsess us. Longing reaches its zenith under conditions of partial or intermittent satisfaction. If expressions of interest and attraction are interspersed with signs of detachment—maybe the desired one pulls back, turns cold, or goes away for a while—the result can be a frenzy of desire. Anyone who has ever become involved with someone who already had a primary relationship knows how just an occasional crumb of interest or reciprocation acts as an aphrodisiac. Actual moments together take on special significance. ANTICIPATION: SHORT-TERM LONGINGLonging and anticipation are variations on the same theme; both draw energy from the gap between desire and the reality of the moment. The difference is that longing must usually overcome formidable barriers. Her lover lives in another town so they see each other only occasionally. His girlfriend is involved with someone else so he waits by the phone for calls that rarely come. With anticipation, the wait is not nearly so prolonged or painful because fulfillment seems relatively near. In a state of yearning you are intensely aware of the experience of being without, whereas anticipation is almost entirely focused on the goal of being together. Thirty-nine percent of The Group’s peak encounters contain references to desiring an absent or unavailable partner, or anticipating the encounter itself or some specific moment within the encounter. Far fewer—18 percent—mention longing or anticipation in their fantasies. For many people fantasy is an opportunity to use their imaginative abilities to guarantee gratification. Yearning enthusiasts, however, often prefer to build up their arousal gradually by visualizing an extended seduction or some other circuitous path to satisfaction. Overall, longing is significantly more common among women than among men, with lesbians the most likely of all to mention it. One reason the women report greater longing is that they are more likely to have romantic feelings toward their partners. While anticipation can be a component of either limerence or lust, serious longing is definitely associated with romance. In actual practice it’s virtually impossible to make a clear distinction between longing and anticipation. The dance of longing and anticipation is obvious in a story told by Frank, the only member of The Group who mentioned his wedding night as the setting for unforgettable sex. Because of Frank’s work, he and his fiancee had to be apart for nearly six months prior to their wedding, forcing them to make most of their plans by phone: We decided we would stay overnight in a hotel before our honeymoon. I requested just one thing—that she wear a garter belt. She laughed but admitted that she too had some special things in mind. The consummation of our wedding was on my mind constantly.