Shame

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 Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  One of the most profound and conceptually challenging aspects of healing trauma is understanding the role played by memory. Many of us have the faulty and limiting belief that to heal our traumas we must dredge up horrible memories from the past. What we know for certain is that we feel damaged, fragmented, distressed, shameful, unhappy, etc. In an attempt to feel better we search for the cause(s) of our unhappiness, hoping that finding them will ease our distress. Even if we are able to dredge up reasonably accurate “memories” of an event, they will not heal us. On the contrary, this unnecessary exercise can cause us to re-enact the experience and get sucked into the trauma vortex once again. The search for memories may engender more pain and distress, while further solidifying our frozen immobility. The vicious cycle then escalates as we are compelled to search for other explanatory events (“memories”) to account for our additional distress. How important are these memories? There are two kinds of memory pertinent to trauma. One form is somewhat like a video camera, sequentially recording events. It is called “explicit” (conscious) memory, and stores information such as what you did at the party last night. The other form is the way that the human organism organizes the experience of significant event s for example, the procedure of how to ride a bicycle. This type of memory is called “implicit” (procedural) and is unconscious. It has to do with things we don’t think about; our bodies just do them. In many ways, the seemingly concrete images of a traumatized person’s “memory” can be the most difficult to let go of. This is particularly true when the person has previously attempted to move through a traumatic reaction using forms of psychotherapy that encourage ca-tharsis and the emotional reliving of the traumatic event as the panacea for recovery. Catharsis reinforces memory as an absolute truth and inadvertently reinforces the trauma vortex. An incorrect understanding of memory is one of the misconceptions that interferes with the transformation process. What Is Memory? The brain’s function is to choose from the past, to diminish it, to simplify it, but not to preserve it. Henri Bergson, The Creative Mind, 1911

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Gladys’ story, while extreme, is typical of denial. Denial keeps the traumatized person in its grip until the primitive processes that guard the system decide to let go. We may come out of denial because we feel safe, because another event triggers a “memory,” or because our biologys say, “Enough.” While there are things that friends, loved ones, and therapists can do to help (i.e., intervention), a sensitivity to timing is critical to the success of these approaches. What Trauma Survivors Expect The young girl whose father molests her will freeze in her bed because she cannot escape the terror and shame of the experience by running away. In having her active defensive escape response thwarted, the child’s ability to orient to normal stimuli will change. She will no longer respond with curiosity and expectancy. Her actions will be constricted and frozen in fear. The sound of footsteps, which the “normal” child orients to with alert expectancy, evokes frozen terror in the incest child. When the incest is ongoing, the child responds by becoming habitually frozen in the immobility state. For children who are threatened, however, immobility becomes a dysfunctional symptom of their trauma. Children become both psychological and physiological victims, and will carry that posture throughout their lives. They will be unable to make a full switch from immobility back to the possibility of active escape, regardless of the situation they find themselves in. They become so identified with helplessness and shame that they literally no longer have the resources to defend themselves when attacked or put under pressure. All humans who are repeatedly overwhelmed become identified with states of anxiety and helplessness. In addition, they bring this helplessness to many other situations that are perceived as threats. They make the “decision” that they are helpless, and continue in many varied ways to prove this victimization to themselves and to others. They give in to the helpless feelings even in situations that they have the resources to master. Sometimes (in what is known as a counter-phobic reaction), they may attempt to disprove what they don’t like about themselves by deliberately provoking danger. Either way, they are behaving as victims and their behaviors propagate further victimization. Career criminals speak of using body language to choose their victims. They have learned through experience that certain people do not defend themselves as well as others. What they look for are the telltale signs revealed in the stiff, uncoordinated movements and the disoriented behavior of their potential prey. The Last Turn As trauma symptoms grow more complex, they begin incorporating all the aspects of the trauma sufferer’s experience into their web. These symptoms have a physiological basis, but by the time their development has reached the last turn in its downward spiral, they will be not only affecting, but actually driving the mental aspects of our experience as well. What is most frightening is that a large portion of this impact will remain unconscious.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  Then from the receiver I heard the whisper of an aged, shrunken Sybil delivering a riddle as from an ampulla: “The mask should be held eighteen inches in front of the face.” I visualized a Venetian festival mask on a stick, cardboard thin. She was saying that because I didn’t hold my mask far enough away, I didn’t know the difference between myself and a persona, and that’s why I was such a superficial phony. I expected she would elaborate, but Rupert must have taken the receiver from her. “Did you understand that? A mask eighteen inches in front of the face.” “Yes, thank you,” I said, feeling annoyed at his repeating her words. And that was it; he hung up. I was devastated. Not only had Anaïs not apologized to me, she’d stuck the knife in deeper. A week later, Anaïs called again without Rupert’s intervention. Her voice, though still faint, was back to its musical lilt. “How are you?” she asked. I exhaled with relief. I could tell by her tone that this time she was calling to soothe my feelings. “I’m okay,” I answered. “How are you?” “Oh, I have good days and bad days.” I waited for her apology. Instead she said, “I wanted to get back to you right away. I read your diary.” I stopped breathing. Be calm, I told myself. She’ll give you her compliments first. The way she always did with the students. She began, “Everything is there, other people, places, descriptions … but you are not there.” “But the whole thing is my point of view.” “Yes, but your feelings are absent, so the writing is superficial.” Superficial, that word again. How could my diaries be superficial? That was the worst thing you could say about somebody’s diary, and she’d hardly said anything good. I bet she hadn’t even read more than a page. She was still looking to justify Jamie’s criticism of me. She continued, “You need to ask yourself when you are writing, ‘What did I feel?’ You report what someone said but not how you reacted to it. And your intellect is a tyrant, a kind of madman that takes over.” How dare she! My intellect was the only thing about myself of which I was proud. She saw my trained intellect as a tyrant because she had no respect for rationality. She hadn’t been through grad school! I rebutted, “I thought there was an excess of feeling. That’s why I never let you read them before.” “Anxiety, exaggeration, and over-dramatization are not the same thing as real feelings, Tristine.”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘If only the gods had so willed it, Gisippus, I would much rather have died than continued to live, when I think how Fortune has driven me to the point where my virtue had to be put to the test, and where, to my very great shame, you have found it wanting. But I confidently expect to receive, before long, my just reward in the form of my death, and this will be dearer to me than to go on living with the memory of my baseness, which, since there is nothing I either could or should conceal from you, I shall tell you about, though I burn with shame to speak of it.’ And so, starting from the beginning, he explained the cause of his melancholy, describing the conflict that had raged between his contrasting thoughts, which of them had won the day, and how he was wasting away for love of Sophronia. Moreover he declared that since he knew his attitude to be wholly improper, he had resolved that he would die by way of penance, and believed he would shortly achieve this desirable aim. On hearing what Titus had said, and observing how bitterly he wept, Gisippus was at first somewhat taken aback, for although his own passionate feelings towards the beautiful Sophronia were more restrained, he too was fascinated by her charms. But he instantly decided that his friend’s life meant more to him than Sophronia, and being moved to tears by the tears of his comrade, he replied, sobbing continuously:

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It could be argued that the narrator’s light-hearted attitude towards his narrative indicates that this, the most problematical story in the whole of the Decameron, should be read rather as an elaborate parable on obedience to the Lord’s will rather than as a literal, realistic account of a husband’s sadistic cruelty. Parallels with the biblical story of the patience of Job are evident, both in the text and in the narrative itself. The Clerk’s Tale, Chaucer’s version of the same story, was almost certainly based on Petrarch’s Latin translation of B.’s novella, as can be seen for instance in its bowdlerization of the episode in which Griselda is stripped naked in the presence of all the bystanders, men and women alike. Both in Petrarch and in Chaucer, she is stripped of her peasant’s garb and regally re-clothed in private by the ladies of the court.2. Saluzzo A town at the foot of the Alps about thirty miles south of Turin, the seat of the marquises of Saluzzo from 1142 to 1548.3. Griselda The name appears to be an invention of B.’s own, perhaps constructed from that of a very different character, Criseida (Cressida), the heroine of his narrative poem Filostrato, on which Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde is based.4. My lord, deal with me as you think best Griselda’s words recall the response of the Virgin Mary to the Angel Gabriel in Luke i, 38: ‘Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuurn (‘Be it unto me according to thy word’).5. do exactly as your lord… has instructed you Griselda’s apparent sacrifice of her daughter (and later of her son) at her lord’s command forms part of a long tradition of such intensely dramatic moments in classical and biblical literature, for instance Agamemnon’s sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia, Idomeneo’s sacrifice of his son Idamante and God’s command to Abraham (as a test of his obedience) that he sacrifice his only son, Isaac.6. naked as on the day I was born Griselda’s submissive reply to her husband’s announcement echoes the words of Job: ‘Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away’ (Job i, 21).7. Panago A form taken from popular speech, Panago (i.e. Pánico, near Bologna) was a feudatory of the counts of Alberti.8. My lord, I am ready to do as you ask Yet another biblical echo, this time of the Virgin’s ‘Ecce ancilla Dei’ (‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord’). from Luke i, 38.9. I think I can boast The Italian text reads ‘credendomi poter dar vanto’. Luigi Russo pointed out that the phrase had a precise and solemn meaning in feudal society. It has to do with the ‘vaunts’ or boasts made by knights, often over the dinner table, concerning some outstanding personal achievement, defying their companions to cite a more worthy deed of their own.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Gladys’ story, while extreme, is typical of denial. Denial keeps the traumatized person in its grip until the primitive processes that guard the system decide to let go. We may come out of denial because we feel safe, because another event triggers a “memory,” or because our biologys say, “Enough.” While there are things that friends, loved ones, and therapists can do to help (i.e., intervention), a sensitivity to timing is critical to the success of these approaches. What Trauma Survivors Expect The young girl whose father molests her will freeze in her bed because she cannot escape the terror and shame of the experience by running away. In having her active defensive escape response thwarted, the child’s ability to orient to normal stimuli will change. She will no longer respond with curiosity and expectancy. Her actions will be constricted and frozen in fear. The sound of footsteps, which the “normal” child orients to with alert expectancy, evokes frozen terror in the incest child. When the incest is ongoing, the child responds by becoming habitually frozen in the immobility state. For children who are threatened, however, immobility becomes a dysfunctional symptom of their trauma. Children become both psychological and physiological victims, and will carry that posture throughout their lives. They will be unable to make a full switch from immobility back to the possibility of active escape, regardless of the situation they find themselves in. They become so identified with helplessness and shame that they literally no longer have the resources to defend themselves when attacked or put under pressure. All humans who are repeatedly overwhelmed become identified with states of anxiety and helplessness. In addition, they bring this helplessness to many other situations that are perceived as threats. They make the “decision” that they are helpless, and continue in many varied ways to prove this victimization to themselves and to others. They give in to the helpless feelings even in situations that they have the resources to master. Sometimes (in what is known as a counter-phobic reaction), they may attempt to disprove what they don’t like about themselves by deliberately provoking danger. Either way, they are behaving as victims and their behaviors propagate further victimization. Career criminals speak of using body language to choose their victims. They have learned through experience that certain people do not defend themselves as well as others. What they look for are the telltale signs revealed in the stiff, uncoordinated movements and the disoriented behavior of their potential prey. The Last Turn As trauma symptoms grow more complex, they begin incorporating all the aspects of the trauma sufferer’s experience into their web. These symptoms have a physiological basis, but by the time their development has reached the last turn in its downward spiral, they will be not only affecting, but actually driving the mental aspects of our experience as well. What is most frightening is that a large portion of this impact will remain unconscious.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  It was the English department secretary who had given me the stationery. She told me that Dr. Inch wanted to meet with me in his office. I had never been called into a professor’s office before and I assumed it was because the secretary had conveyed a question I’d asked, about how I’d apply for a Fulbright scholarship to Italy. My heart took flight with fantasies of getting a Fulbright. I could live in Rome with Gerardo Palmieri as my lover or maybe in Siena with several Italian lovers. Dr. Inch, a slight, faded man, seemed dwarfed behind his huge wood desk covered with tall stacks of books and papers. He rose to search for something in one of his piles. After not finding it, he sat again, and peered at me disapprovingly. “I received a phone call, young woman, from a Mr. Guiler who said he had in his possession an invitation addressed to his wife from you on behalf of the English department.” I was stunned. “How did Hugo get that letter? It wasn’t mailed to him.” “So you admit you wrote it?” “It was for Anaïs Nin. She’s a writer. I’m apprenticing to her.” I hoped that Dr. Inch, as a literature professor, would look kindly on the fact that I was working for a writer. “I’ve never heard of her, and for your information, I choose whom to invite to speak on behalf of the English department!” “It wasn’t a real invitation; it was just for her to show around to eastern colleges.” I hoped I wasn’t breaking Anaïs’s confidence. I had to defend myself. Dr. Inch crossed his arms. “Now I know you are lying to me.” “I’m not! Why do you think I’m lying?” “East Coast colleges wouldn’t care whom West Coast colleges invite. They aren’t impressed by that.” My stomach sank. Of course, he was right. I hadn’t thought that taking a few sheets of stationery was a big deal but suddenly I realized that it was everything, my whole future. Dr. Inch could impede my graduation and applications to grad school. “All I did was type the letter for her,” I pleaded. “You didn’t just type the letter. You procured the stationery for it. We have your signature on record. This is a case of fraud, and I will see that you receive the consequences you deserve. I looked up your record, young lady. State scholarships are not intended for bad apples.” Oh, my God. I could lose my scholarship, everything I’d worked so hard for! “I’m not a bad apple! I’m not. I’m getting As. You can check. What are you going to do?” “I haven’t decided whether to recommend your suspension to the academic senate or the dean. You will be hearing from me. In the meanwhile, speak of this with no one.”

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  History of success or failure. Whether or not we are able to use these instinctual action plans is greatly influenced by our past successes and failures in similar situations. Causes of Trauma I have been amazed at the broad range of traumatic events and reactions I have observed throughout my career. Some, like childhood surgeries, are significant but seemingly benign events in the person’s memory. A client describes the following formative childhood experience at age four: I struggled with masked giants who were strapping me to a high, white table. Silhouetted in the cold, harsh light that glared in my eyes was the figure of someone coming towards me with a black mask. The mask had a vile smell that caused me to choke and I continued to struggle as it was forced down onto my face. Trying desperately to scream and turn away, I spun into a dizzying, black tunnel of horrific hallucinations. I awoke in a gray-green room, devastated. Except for a very bad sore throat, it appeared that I was perfectly okay. I was not. I felt utterly and completely abandoned and betrayed. All that I had been told was that I could have my favorite ice cream and that my parents would be with me. After the operation I lost the sense of a safe, comprehensible world where I had the ability to respond. I became consumed by a helpless sense of shame and a feeling that I was bad” [the rational brain assumes that he must be bad to deserve this kind of punishment]. For years after this annihilating experience, I feared bedtime and would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night. Gasping for breath and too scared and ashamed to cry out, I lay alone, terrified of suffocating to death. By the age of six or seven, family stress and the pressure of school intensified my symptoms. I was sent to see a child psychiatrist. Her main concern was a shaggy, dirty, white, stuffed dog that I needed to have beside me to fall asleep. The reason for my anxiety and excessive shyness went undiscovered. The doctor’s approach was to further frighten me by telling me about the problems needing a stuffed friend would cause me as an adult. I must say that the therapy “worked” in that regard (I threw my dog away). However, my symptoms continued and I developed chronic anxiety attacks, frequent stomach-aches, and other “psychosomatic” problems that lasted from junior high into graduate school. Many events can cause traumatic reactions later in life, depending on how the person experienced them at the time. Some examples of common traumatic antecedents are:  Fetal trauma (intra-uterine)  Birth trauma  Loss of a parent or close family member  Illness, high fevers, accidental poisoning  Physical injuries, including falls and accidents  Sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, including severe abandonment, or beatings  Witnessing violence  Natural disasters such as earthquakes, fires, and floods  Certain medical and dental procedures

• From The Decameron (1353)

  These she accepted with laughter in her heart and tears in her eyes, promising to repay them as soon as she could, which was all that Salabaetto required by way of bond. Now that she had her hands on the money, it became a different story altogether; for whereas he had always had free access to the lady whenever he pleased, she now began to fob him off with various excuses, so that nine times out of ten he was turned away from the house, and even when he did get in to see her, she no longer greeted him with the smiling countenance, the caresses, or the lavish hospitality to which he had previously been accustomed. Not only did the lady fail to repay Salabaetto by the date she had promised, but a further month went by, then another, and when he asked her for his money, all he could get out of her was a string of excuses. Salabaetto now realized how cleverly he had been taken in by her villainy, and knowing that he could prove nothing against her (for he had no written evidence of the transaction, and there was no independent witness), he was exceedingly distressed and reproached himself bitterly for his foolishness. Moreover, he was too ashamed to lodge a complaint with the authorities, because he had been warned of her character beforehand and had only himself to blame if he was made a laughing-stock for behaving so stupidly. And when he received several letters from his principals ordering him to change the money and forward it to them, fearing lest his lapse should be discovered if he remained in Palermo any longer without obeying their instructions, he decided to leave. So he boarded a small ship, and instead of sailing to Pisa as he should have done, he went to Naples. Now, there happened at that time to be living in Naples a compatriot of ours, Pietro dello Canigiano, 4 who was treasurer to Her Highness the Empress of Constantinople 5 – a man of great intelligence and shrewdness, and a very close friend of Salabaetto and his family. Knowing him to be the very soul of discretion, Salabaetto took him into his confidence a few days after his arrival, told him about what he had done and about the sad fate which had befallen him, and requested his assistance and advice in finding some means of livelihood in Naples, declaring that he had no intention of ever returning to Florence. Saddened by what he had heard, Canigiano replied: ‘A fine state of affairs, I must say; a fine way to carry on; a fine sense of loyalty you have shown to your employers. No sooner do you lay your hands on a large sum of money, than you squander the lot in riotous living.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  Then from the receiver I heard the whisper of an aged, shrunken Sybil delivering a riddle as from an ampulla: “The mask should be held eighteen inches in front of the face.” I visualized a Venetian festival mask on a stick, cardboard thin. She was saying that because I didn’t hold my mask far enough away, I didn’t know the difference between myself and a persona, and that’s why I was such a superficial phony. I expected she would elaborate, but Rupert must have taken the receiver from her. “Did you understand that? A mask eighteen inches in front of the face.” “Yes, thank you,” I said, feeling annoyed at his repeating her words. And that was it; he hung up. I was devastated. Not only had Anaïs not apologized to me, she’d stuck the knife in deeper. A week later, Anaïs called again without Rupert’s intervention. Her voice, though still faint, was back to its musical lilt. “How are you?” she asked. I exhaled with relief. I could tell by her tone that this time she was calling to soothe my feelings. “I’m okay,” I answered. “How are you?” “Oh, I have good days and bad days.” I waited for her apology. Instead she said, “I wanted to get back to you right away. I read your diary.” I stopped breathing. Be calm, I told myself. She’ll give you her compliments first. The way she always did with the students. She began, “Everything is there, other people, places, descriptions … but you are not there.” “But the whole thing is my point of view.” “Yes, but your feelings are absent, so the writing is superficial.” Superficial, that word again. How could my diaries be superficial? That was the worst thing you could say about somebody’s diary, and she’d hardly said anything good. I bet she hadn’t even read more than a page. She was still looking to justify Jamie’s criticism of me. She continued, “You need to ask yourself when you are writing, ‘What did I feel?’ You report what someone said but not how you reacted to it. And your intellect is a tyrant, a kind of madman that takes over.” How dare she! My intellect was the only thing about myself of which I was proud. She saw my trained intellect as a tyrant because she had no respect for rationality. She hadn’t been through grad school! I rebutted, “I thought there was an excess of feeling. That’s why I never let you read them before.” “Anxiety, exaggeration, and over-dramatization are not the same thing as real feelings, Tristine.”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And heaving many a sigh, he answered him as follows: ‘If only the gods had so willed it, Gisippus, I would much rather have died than continued to live, when I think how Fortune has driven me to the point where my virtue had to be put to the test, and where, to my very great shame, you have found it wanting. But I confidently expect to receive, before long, my just reward in the form of my death, and this will be dearer to me than to go on living with the memory of my baseness, which, since there is nothing I either could or should conceal from you, I shall tell you about, though I burn with shame to speak of it.’ And so, starting from the beginning, he explained the cause of his melancholy, describing the conflict that had raged between his contrasting thoughts, which of them had won the day, and how he was wasting away for love of Sophronia. Moreover he declared that since he knew his attitude to be wholly improper, he had resolved that he would die by way of penance, and believed he would shortly achieve this desirable aim. On hearing what Titus had said, and observing how bitterly he wept, Gisippus was at first somewhat taken aback, for although his own passionate feelings towards the beautiful Sophronia were more restrained, he too was fascinated by her charms. But he instantly decided that his friend’s life meant more to him than Sophronia, and being moved to tears by the tears of his comrade, he replied, sobbing continuously: ‘If, Titus, you were less in need of reassurance, I should take you severely to task, seeing that you have abused our friendship by not telling me earlier of this overwhelming passion. Even if you felt that your thoughts were improper, that was no reason for concealing them from your friend, any more than if they were proper: for just as a true friend takes a delight in sharing his friend’s proper thoughts, so he will attempt to wean him away from those that are improper. But enough of that for the present: let us turn to the question that I take to be the more urgent. The fact that you have fallen violently in love with Sophronia, my promised bride, does not surprise me in the least; indeed I should be most surprised if you hadn’t, considering her beauty and your own loftiness of spirit, which renders you all the more susceptible to passionate feelings, the greater the excellence of the object that arouses your liking. And inasmuch as you do right to love Sophronia, at the same time you do wrong to complain about Fortune (though you make no mention of this) for conceding her to me, as though you felt that there would be nothing improper about loving her if she belonged to another.

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

  But Albrecht’s confirmation as archbishop was not secured without the payment of a high price. The price,10,000 ducats, was set by the authorities in Rome and did not originate with the German embassy, which had gone to prosecute the case. The proposition came from the Vatican itself and at the very moment the Lateran council was voting measures for the reform of the Church. It carried with it the promise of a papal indulgence for the archbishop’s territories. The elector Joachim expressed some scruples of conscience over the purchase, but it went through. Schulte exclaims that, if ever a benefice was sold for gold, this was true in the case of Albrecht.1332 The bull of indulgences was issued March 31,1516, and granted the young German prelate the right to dispose of pardons throughout the half part of Germany, the period being fixed at 8 years. The bull offered, "complete absolution—plenissimam indulgentiam — and remission of all sins," sins both of the living and the dead. A private paper, emanating from Leo and dated two weeks later, April 15, mentions the 10,000 ducats proposed by the Vatican as the price of Albrecht’s confirmation as having been already placed in Leo’s hands.1333 To enable him to pay the full amount of 30,000 ducats his ecclesiastical dignities had cost, Albrecht borrowed from the Fuggers and, to secure funds, he resorted to a two-years’ tax of two-fifths which he levied on the priests, the convents and other religious institutions of his dioceses. In 1517, "out of regard for his Holiness, the pope, and the salvation and comfort of his people," Joachim opened his domains to the indulgence-hawkers. It was his preaching in connection with this bull that won for Tetzel an undying notoriety. Oldecop, writing in 1516, of what he saw, said that people, in their eagerness to secure deliverance from the guilt and penalty of sin and to get their parents and friends out of purgatory, were putting money into the chest all day long.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  They showed me that people want to be fooled, and that it was easy to fool them. All I’d done was imagine myself as Anaïs, and people, needing her to be there, believed in the lie. It left me feeling inflated, pumped with helium, but also cynical. I’d satisfied the dream I’d held for so long of becoming Anaïs, if only for one night, but when it happened, it felt creepy—like being a body snatcher. [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] Only three days later Anaïs, back from the hospital, phoned to find out how the event had gone. I still felt drained, as if my trick of becoming her in the auditorium and the rush of her fans had been a seizure that had left me limp, hollow, my ears ringing. “How did it go?” “Alright. They didn’t boo.” “What else? “I have a bunch of gifts to bring you. How did you get out of the hospital so soon?” “What do you mean?” She sounded affronted. “I mean all the other times you had to stay longer.” “Oh, they just had to fatten me up this time.” “Couldn’t they have waited until after your appearance?” “No, they thought I was that weak.” “Oh. I’m sorry. People really missed seeing you.” She said the purpose of her call was to invite me and Jamie to come tell her about the event, and she wanted both of us to stay after to meditate for her cure with the “white light people.” “What do they charge for that?” I asked skeptically. “Nothing. They want to help. It’s just white light, Tristine.” [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] There was total gridlock on the freeway and I arrived almost two hours late. The house was dark except for lit tea candles everywhere, and the white light people, teenagers in diaphanous robes, were ready to begin. Anaïs’s eyes were shut so I put down the gifts and tried to creep unnoticed to an empty chair next to Jamie. The young men with scraggly beards and girls with long braids made a semi-circle around Anaïs, who sat up straight in a kitchen chair. The meditation, which one of the young men guided us through, was to feel the white light penetrating Anaïs’s body, healing all her cells from the top of her head to her toes. I threw myself into it. With the effort of moving boulders, I concentrated on that white light dissolving her cancer cells. My eyes were closed, but when I heard weeping, I opened them. Anaïs was coiled into herself. “I turned against God.” She struggled to speak between sobs. “Because of my father.” She looked like a trembling, terrified child instead of the woman I knew. The white light kids huddled together in consternation while Rupert rushed to her side and held her as she continued to sob uncontrollably. Jamie and I exchanged an alarmed look.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  On hearing the King’s inquiry, she turned boldly towards him and replied: ‘No, my lord, but our women, whilst they may differ slightly from each other in their rank and the style of their dress, are made no differently here than they are elsewhere.’ On hearing this, the King saw clearly the reason for the banquet of chickens, and the virtue that lay concealed beneath her little homily. He realized that honeyed words would be wasted on a lady of this sort, and that force was out of the question. And thus, in the same way that he had foolishly become inflamed, so now he wisely decided that he was honour-bound to extinguish the ill-conceived fires of his passion. Fearing her replies, he teased her no further, but applied himself to his meal, by now convinced that all hope was lost. And as soon as he had finished eating, in order to compensate for his dishonourable coming by his swift departure, he thanked her for her generous hospitality and departed for Genoa, with the lady wishing him God-speed.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  e [8] , makes this eloquent statement: …“the attempt to achieve and maintain justice, or to undo or prevent injustice, is the one and only universal cause of violence.” (italics his) On an emotional and intellectual level, Dr. Gilligan’s insight is profound and accurate, but how does it translate into the biological level of instinctive functioning? To the non-thinking world of the felt sense, I believe that justice is experienced as completion. Without discharge and completion, we are doomed to repeat the tragic cycle of violent re-enactment, whether it be through “acting out” or “acting in.” It is humbling to own up to the fact that a significant portion of human behavior is performed from hyper-aroused states due to incomplete responses to threat. Most of humanity appears to be fascinated, perhaps even mesmerized by those of us who “act out” our search for justice. There are countless books detailing the lives of “serial-killers,” many of them best-sellers. The theme of justice and revenge is probably the subject of more movies than any other single topic. Underlying our powerful attraction to those who “act out” is the urge for completion and resolutio n- or, what I call “renegotiation” of trauma. In a renegotiation, the repetitive cycle of violent re-enactment is transformed into a healing event. A transformed person feels no need for revenge or violenc e- shame and blame dissolve in the powerful wake of renewal and self-acceptance (see Chapter Fourtee n– Transformation ). Unfortunately, there are very few examples of this phenomenon in literature and films. The movie Sling Blade has many of the transformative qualities inherent in a traumatic renegotiation. Our mundane “collision scenario” is much more a part of everyday life than the stuff movies are made of, and therefore, more telling. On page 133 of Violence, Gilligan writes: “If we want to understand the nature of the incident that typically provokes the most intense shame, and hence the most extreme violence, we need to recognize that it is precisely the triviality of the incident that makes the incident so shameful. And it is the intensity of the shame, as I said, that makes the incident so powerfully productive of violence.” When people are overwhelmed and cannot successfully defend themselves, they often feel ashamed. When they act violently, they are seeking justice and vengeance for having been shamed.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  What I’d resented moments before now swayed me. If Anaïs could revert to her Catholicism, why couldn’t I do likewise? I prayed: Holy Mary, Mother of God, please let Anaïs still be alive and let me be the one to receive her last words. I heard slidings and brushings from behind the hospital screen set up in front of the bedroom area and the faint sound of whimpering. She was still alive! As a uniformed nurse retracted the screen, Rupert led me to a narrow hospital bed that had been set up next to the queen bed with its soiled lavender backrests. Rupert and the nurse disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Anaïs. I thought it was incredibly generous of him to give me these last precious moments with her. Her lids were half open, her face colorless, her skin stuck like damp silk to her skull. But she was breathing. I leaned down to kiss her and was taken aback by the stench around her. I avoided inhaling as I whispered, “I saw a priest leaving.” “I agreed to let a priest come,” she said in a hoarse, barely audible voice. I said, “I always thought the Catholic Church had an advantage in having the sacraments, especially the last one.” She didn’t say anything. She looked in pain. She tried to shift her body and the stench became worse. Rattled, I carried on, “I always thought Extreme Unction was the best sacrament. You get to have oil rubbed on your face, and, without having to do anything, all your sins are removed.” I looked for oil on her forehead, but not seeing any, assumed the nurse had wiped it off. Suddenly agitated, Anaïs tried to raise herself. In a voice surprisingly strong, she cried, “Extreme Unction? That’s for when one is dying!” She glared at me. “You think I’m dying?” Oh my God! How could I have been such an idiot? She wasn’t dying yet at all. I had imagined she was dying, which made it look as if I couldn’t wait for her to go! Now she knew what I’d tried so hard to hide: that I was eager for her to be gone so I could find out who I was—without her. I wanted to disappear through the floor. I stammered, “I just saw that priest, and—” “I gave him my confession! Usually Father Lucas comes but he couldn’t today so they sent a substitute.” I tried to backtrack. “No, I know you aren’t dying. I was just saying how Extreme Unction is my favorite sacrament. Confession is good, too. What did he give you for a penance?” “Nothing.”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Some half a mile from where we stand, you can see a copse where practically every morning Nathan goes for a long walk, entirely alone; it will be a simple matter for you to find him there and deal with him as you please. But if you kill him, and wish to make good your escape, you must leave the copse, not by the way you entered, but along the path you see over there to the left, for although it is a little more difficult, it will lead you home by a shorter and safer route.’ Having imparted this information to Mithridanes, Nathan took his leave, and Mithridanes secretly sent word to his companions, who had likewise found lodging in the palace, about where they were to wait for him on the following day. Meanwhile Nathan had no misgivings about the advice he had offered, and when the next day came, not having changed his mind in the slightest, he set off alone for the copse to meet his doom. Mithridanes had no other weapons but a sword and a bow, and as soon as he had risen he girded them on, mounted his horse, and rode over to the copse, where from some distance away he espied the solitary figure of Nathan sauntering among the trees. He galloped towards him, but being resolved to see his face and hear him speak before attacking him, he seized him by the turban he was wearing and exclaimed: ‘Greybeard, your hour has come!’ By way of answer, all that Nathan said was: ‘In that case I have only myself to blame.’ On hearing his voice and observing his features, Mithridanes recognized him at once as the man who had been so hospitable and sociable towards him, and had given him such faithful advice; hence his fury immediately subsided and his anger gave way to a feeling of shame. And having thrown away his sword, which he had already drawn in readiness to strike, he dismounted from his horse and flung himself in tears at Nathan’s feet, saying: ‘How clearly, dearest father, do I perceive your liberality, seeing the ingenious way in which you have come to offer me the life which without any reason I was eager to take, as you discovered for yourself from my own lips. But God was more heedful than I of my obligations, and in this moment of supreme need He has opened my eyes, which vile envy had kept so tightly sealed. And because you have been so compliant towards my evil design, I am all the more conscious of the debt of penitence that I owe you.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  As soon as his mask was removed, Friar Alberto was immediately recognized by all the onlookers, who jeered at him in unison, calling him by the foulest names and shouting the filthiest abuse ever to have been hurled at any scoundrel in history, at the same time pelting his face with all the nastiest things they could lay their hands upon. They kept this up without stopping, and would have gone on all night but for the fact that half-a-dozen or so of his fellow friars, having heard what was going on, made their way to the scene. The first thing they did on arriving was to throw a cape over his shoulders, after which they set him free and escorted him back, leaving a tremendous commotion in their wake, to their own quarters, where they placed him under lock and key. And there he is believed to have eked out the rest of his days in wretchedness and misery. Thus it was that this arch-villain, whose wicked deeds went unnoticed because he was held to be good, had the audacity to transform himself into the Angel Gabriel. In the end, however, having been turned from an angel into a savage, he got the punishment he deserved, and repented in vain for the crimes he had committed. May it please God that a similar fate should befall each and every one of his fellows. THIRD STORYThree young men fall in love with three sisters and elope with them to Crete. The eldest sister kills her lover in a fit of jealousy; the second, by giving herself to the Duke of Crete, saves her sister’s life but is in turn killed by her own lover, who flees with the eldest sister. The murder is imputed to the third lover and the third sister, who are arrested and forced to make a confession. Fearing execution, they bribe their gaolers and flee, impoverished, to Rhodes, where they die in penury. On finding that Pampinea had reached the end of her story, Filostrato brooded for a while, then turned to her and said: ‘The ending of your story was not without a modicum of merit, from which I drew a certain satisfaction. But there was far too much matter of a humorous kind in the part that preceded it, and this I would have preferred to do without.’ He then turned to Lauretta, and said: ‘Madam, pray proceed with a better tale if possible.’ ‘You are being much too unkind toward lovers,’ she replied, laughing, ‘if all you demand is an unhappy ending to their adventures. However, for the sake of obedience I shall tell you a story about three lovers, all of whom met an unpleasant fate before they were able to enjoy their separate loves to the full.’ Then she began:

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  And now he turned round and deliberately faced her; smiling right into her eyes he lied glibly: ‘My dear, don’t be foolish, there’s nothing strange about you, some day you may meet a man you can love. And supposing you don’t, well, what of it, Stephen? Marriage isn’t the only career for a woman. I’ve been thinking about your writing just lately, and I’m going to let you go up to Oxford; but meanwhile you mustn’t get foolish fancies, that won’t do at all—it’s not like you, Stephen.’ She was gazing at him and he turned away quickly: ‘Darling, I’m busy, you must leave me,’ he faltered. ‘Thank you,’ she said very quietly and simply, ‘I felt that I had to ask you about Martin—’ 3After she had gone he sat on alone, and the lie was still bitter to his spirit as he sat there, and he covered his face for the shame that was in him—but because of the love that was in him he wept. CHAPTER 131T here was gossip in plenty over Martin’s disappearance, and to this Mrs. Antrim contributed her share, even more than her share, looking wise and mysterious whenever Stephen’s name was mentioned. Every one felt very deeply aggrieved. They had been so eager to welcome the girl as one of themselves, and now this strange happening—it made them feel foolish which in turn made them angry. The spring meets were heavy with tacit disapproval—nice men like young Hallam did not run away for nothing; and then what a scandal if those two were not engaged; they had wandered all over the country together. This tacit disapproval was extended to Sir Philip, and via him to Anna for allowing too much freedom; a mother ought to look after her daughter, but then Stephen had always been allowed too much freedom. This, no doubt, was what came of her riding astride and fencing and all the rest of the nonsense; when she did meet a man she took the bit between her teeth and behaved in a most amazing manner. Of course, had there been a proper engagement—but obviously that had never existed. They marvelled, remembering their own toleration, they had really been extremely broad-minded. An extraordinary girl, she had always been odd, and now for some reason she seemed odder than ever. Not so much as a word was said in her hearing that could possibly offend, and yet Stephen well knew that her neighbors’ good-will had been only fleeting, a thing entirely dependent upon Martin. He it was who had raised her status among them—he, the stranger, not even connected with their county. They had all decided that she meant to marry Martin, and that fact had at once made them welcoming and friendly; and suddenly Stephen longed intensely to be welcomed, and she wished from her heart that she could have married Martin.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  On the wedding day not a few eyes would be wet at the sight of so youthful a man and maiden ‘joined together in an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency.’ For such ancient traditions—in spite of the fact that man’s innocency could not even survive one bite of an apple shared with a woman—are none the less apt to be deeply moving. There they would kneel, the young newly wed, ardent yet sanctified by a blessing, so that all, or at least nearly all, they would do, must be considered both natural and pleasing to a God in the image of man created. And the fact that this God, in a thoughtless moment, had created in His turn those pitiful thousands who must stand for ever outside His blessing, would in no way disturb the large congregation or their white surpliced pastor, or the couple who knelt on the gold-braided, red velvet cushions. And afterwards there would be plentiful champagne to warm the cooling blood of the elders, and much shaking of hands and congratulating, and many kind smiles for the bride and her bridegroom. Some might even murmur a fleeting prayer in their hearts, as the two departed: ‘God bless them!’ So now Stephen must actually learn at first hand how straight can run the path of true love, in direct contradiction to the time-honoured proverb. Must realize more clearly than ever, that love is only permissible to those who are cut in every respect to life’s pattern; must feel like some ill-conditioned pariah, hiding her sores under lies and pretences. And after those visits of Violet Antrim’s, her spirits would be at a very low ebb, for she had not yet gained that steel-bright courage which can only be forged in the furnace of affliction, and which takes many weary years in the forging. 2The splendid new motor arrived from London, to the great delight and excitement of Burton. The new suits were completed and worn by their owner, and Angela’s costly gold bag was received with apparent delight, which seemed rather surprising considering her erstwhile ban upon presents. Yet could Stephen have known it, this was not so surprising after all, for the bag infuriated Ralph, thereby distracting his facile attention for the moment, from something that was far more dangerous. Filled with an ever-increasing need to believe, Stephen listened to Angela Crossby: ‘You know there’s nothing between me and Roger—if you don’t, then you above all people ought to,’ and her blue, child-like eyes would look up at Stephen, who could never resist the appeal of their blueness.