Tenderness

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 Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  How could the prophets any longer appeal for national righteousness, when it was not at the option of the people to be righteous? Political agitation among a people under jealous foreign despotism would mean revolutionary agitation and would never be tolerated. Thus all the religious passion and reflection which had formerly flowed into social and political channels was dammed up and turned back. Prayer and private devoutness in pious individuals and in groups of pious men was the only field left to the religious impulse. The religious history and the ceremonial worship of Israel were the only bond of national unity that survived. Jeremiah began the turn toward individual piety. The nation was breaking up about him. His prophetic activity had failed; the people refused to believe that his words were the word of Jehovah. But he heard the insistent inner voice of God, and the consciousness of this personal communion with Jehovah was his stay and comfort. Through his very failure and sufferings a tender personal relation developed between the soul of the prophet and his God. Other choice spirits were in the same situation. The influence of Jeremiah’s writings reproduced in others that personal piety which was the outcome of his peculiar experience. For religious experience has a remarkable capacity for perpetuating and reproducing its type; witness the Confessions of Saint Augustine and the mysticism of Saint Bernard. Jehovah had been the God of the nation, and the God of the individual in so far as he was part of the nation. Now the nation was gone, and the righteous and lowly in their suffering and isolation stretched the lonely hand of faith to him and found him near with a personal touch of love and comfort. Thus the death-pangs of the national life were the birth-pangs of the personal religious life. This was a wonderful triumph of religion, an evidence of the indestructibility of the religious impulse. It was fraught with far-reaching importance for the future of religion and of humanity in general. The subtlest springs of human personality were liberated when the individual realized that he personally was dear to God and could work out his salvation not as a member of his nation, but as a man by virtue of his humanity. The value of this religious achievement has so impressed the students of Hebrew religious history that they have frequently assumed that this change in religion was pure gain. The real edifice of religion in the individual soul was now ready to stand for itself, they say, and the scaffolding of political and social religion could be torn down and its planking abandoned. It is assumed that Jeremiah and those who followed him recognized that the external means of realizing the ideal theocracy had failed, and they now set themselves deliberately to build a new religious community of regenerate souls. They turned their back on the Jewish nation and created the Jewish church. That seems to me a misleading construction of the historical situation.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  Meyer of Rochester Theological Seminary, who have given a critical reading to my manuscript and have made valuable suggestions. “Unto Me” Walter Rauschenbusch WHEN Jesus looked forward to the great climax of History, the Last Judgment, he saw it as a process by which the inner significance of their own actions and relations would be revealed to men. Those men on his right hand whom he welcomed to their reward had never realized the high quality of their own actions. Here was a man who had seen a work-mate in the heat of the harvest-time eating a crust, and he had shared the contents of his dinner-pail with him and gone on half-rations himself. Here was another who had seen a foot-sore and dusty stranger limping into the village at dusk, and had taken him home, helped him clean up, and turned over his bed to him while he slept on the earthen floor. That one yonder had restored the self-respect of a poor neighbor by setting him up in a new suit of clothes. This one had visited a poor debtor pining in prison and brought him food and human comfort in his hopelessness. They all thought they had done it for folks, for dusty, sweaty, tired, discouraged individuals. But Jesus says: “Oh, no, ye did it unto me. My life is so identified with my brethren that when ye fed and clothed them, ye fed and clothed me. God is living in these worn human bodies. When ye comforted them, ye comforted God.” For God and the People Walter Rauschenbusch The new social purpose, which has laid its masterful grasp on modern life and thought, is enlarging and transforming our whole conception of the meaning of Christianity. The Bible and all past history speak a new and living language. The life of men about us stands out with an open-air color and vividness which it never had in the dusky solemnity of the older theological views about humanity. All the older tasks of church life have taken on a new significance, and vastly larger tasks are emerging as from the mists of a new morning. Many ideas that used to seem fundamental and satisfying seem strangely narrow and trivial in this greater world of God. Some of the old religious appeals have utterly lost their power over us. But there are others, unknown to our fathers, which kindle religious passions of wonderful intensity and purity. The wrongs and sufferings of the people and the vision of a righteous and brotherly social life awaken an almost painful compassion and longing, and these feelings are more essentially Christian than most of the fears and desires of religion in the past. Social Christianity is adding to the variety of religious experience, and is creating a new type of Christian man who bears striking a family likeness to Jesus.

• From The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (1915)

  In fact, the nanja-tree, representing the mystical body of this ancestor, cannot be destroyed without the man's feeling himself menaced. It is true that this belief is losing its force to-day, but Spencer and Gillen have observed it, and in any case, they are of the opinion that formerly it was quite general. [888] The identity of these two conceptions is found even in their details. The ancestral souls reside in trees or rocks which are considered sacred. Likewise, among the Euahlayi, the spirit of the animal serving as individual totem is believed to inhabit a tree or stone. [889] This tree or stone is sacred; no one may touch it except the proprietor of the totem; when it is a stone or rock, this interdiction is still absolute. [890] The result is that they are veritable places of refuge. Finally, we have seen that the individual soul is only another aspect of the ancestral spirit, according to Strehlow, this serves after a fashion, as a second self. [891] Likewise, following an expression of Mrs. Parker, the individual totem of the Euahlayi, called Yunbeai, is the alter ego of the individual: "The soul of a man is in his Yunbeai and the soul of his Yunbeai is in him." [892] So at bottom, it is one soul in two bodies. The kinship of these two notions is so close that they are sometimes expressed by one and the same word. This is the case in Melanesia and in Polynesia: atai in the island Mota, tamaniu in the island Aurora, and talegia in Motlaw all designate both the soul of the individual and his personal totem. [893] It is the same with aitu in Samoa. [894] This is because the individual totem is merely the outward and visible form of the ego or the personality, of which the soul is the inward and invisible form. [895] Thus the individual totem has all the essential characteristics of the protecting ancestor and fills the same rôle: this is because it has the same origin and proceeds from the same idea. Each of them, in fact, consists in a duplication of the soul. The totem, as the ancestor, is the soul of the individual, but externalized and invested with powers superior to those it is believed to possess while within the organism. Now this duplication is the result of a psychological necessity; for it only expresses the nature of the soul which, as we have seen, is double. In one sense, it is ours: it expresses our personality.

• From The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (1915)

  But the fact is that he does not reincarnate himself entirely; he merely duplicates himself. One part of him enters the body of the woman and fertilizes her; another part continues to exist outside and, under the special name of Arumburinga, fulfils the office of guardian genius. [871] Thus we see how great a kinship there is between this ancestral spirit and the genius of the Latins or the δαίμων of the Greeks. [872] The identification of function is complete. In fact, at first the genius is the one who begets, qui gignit ; he expresses and personifies the powers of generation. [873] But at the same time, he is the protector and director of the particular individual to whose person he is attached. [874] He is finally confused with the personality itself of this individual; he represents the totality of the proclivities and tendencies which characterize him and give him a distinctive appearance among other men. [875] Hence come the well-known expressions indulgere genio , defraudere genium with the sense of to follow one's natural temperament . At bottom, the genius is another form or double of the soul of the individual. This is proved by the partial synonomy of genius and manes . [876] The manes is the genius after death; but it is also all that survives of the dead man, that is to say, his soul. In the same way, the soul of the Arunta and the ancestral spirit which serves as his genius are only two different aspects of one and the same being. But it is not only in relation to persons that the ancestor has a definite situation; he also has one in relation to things. Though he is believed to have his real residence under the ground, they think that he is always haunting the place where his nanja-tree or rock is, or the water-hole which was spontaneously formed at the exact spot where he disappeared into the ground, having terminated his first existence. As this tree or rock is believed to represent the body of the hero, they imagine that the soul itself is constantly coming back there, and lives there more or less permanently; it is by the presence of this soul that they explain the religious respect inspired by these localities. No one can break the branch of a nanja-tree without a risk of falling sick. [877] "Formerly the act of breaking it down or injuring it was punished with death. An animal or bird taking refuge there could not be killed. Even the surrounding bushes had to be respected: the grass could not be burned, the rocks also had to be treated with respect.

• From The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (1915)

  It is among the old men that it reaches its greatest intensity. They are so very sacred that certain things forbidden to ordinary people are permissible for them: they may eat the totemic animal more freely and, as we have seen, there are even some tribes where they are freed from all dietetic restrictions. So we must be careful not to consider totemism a sort of animal worship. The attitude of a man towards the animals or plants whose name he bears is not at all that of a believer towards his god, for he belongs to the sacred world himself. Their relations are rather those of two beings who are on the same level and of equal value. The most that can be said is that in certain cases, at least, the animal seems to occupy a slightly more elevated place in the hierarchy of sacred things. It is because of this that it is sometimes called the father or the grandfather of the men of the clan, which seems to show that they feel themselves in a state of moral dependence in regard to it. [416] But in other, and perhaps even more frequent cases, it happens that the expressions used denote rather a sentiment of equality. The totemic animal is called the friend or the elder brother of its human fellows. [417] Finally, the bonds which exist between them and it are much more like those which unite the members of a single family; the animals and the men are made of the same flesh, as the Buandik say. [418] On account of this kinship, men regard the animals of the totemic species as kindly associates upon whose aid they think they can rely. They call them to their aid [419] and they come, to direct their blows in the hunt and to give warning of whatever dangers there may be. [420] In return for this, men treat them with regard and are never cruel to them; [421] but these attentions in no way resemble a cult. Men sometimes even appear to have a mysterious sort of property-right over their totems. The prohibition against killing and eating them is applied only to members of the clan, of course; it could not be extended to other persons without making life practically impossible. If, in a tribe like the Arunta, where there is such a host of different totems, it were forbidden to eat, not only the animal or plant whose name one bears, but also all the animals and all the plants which serve as totems to other clans, the sources of food would be reduced to nothing.

• From Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity (2007)

  I know that it’s common for outsiders to focus on the more sexual aspects of MTF crossdressing (just as they focus on the more sexual aspects of femaleness in general). However, I personally found that, if anything, the social, emotional, and psychological effects of being crossdressed were far more profound than the sexual ones. The truth is that gendered clothing is extraordinarily symbolic of the sex of the body that presumably lies underneath; this is why wearing the clothing associated with the other sex is an almost invariant feature of cross-gender expression and identity across cultures and throughout history. Prior to my transition, dressing up in “women’s” clothing was the closest I ever got to actually being a woman, to having my body be aligned with how I imagined it. For me, the fact that “women’s” clothing was symbolic of being female far outweighed any sexuality-related symbolism it may have had. As with many MTF spectrum folks, my crossdressing passed through a series of stages. Each was a demystification process that I began by experimenting with some aspect of femaleness/femininity that seemed unknowable and fascinating to me. Over time, my exploration and experimentation of that aspect of femaleness/femininity led to it becoming demystified; what had previously seemed out of my reach eventually became something that I was capable of, that was within my realm of possibility. The main motivating force behind my exploration of crossdressing was to make sense of my ever- present desire to be female. While this may distinguish me from other crossdressers (e.g., those who are motivated by feminine rather than female inclinations), I believe that the stages I passed through (which are described below) are shared by many crossdressers. The first stage of crossdressing I passed through was the “clothing phase.” It began with trying on individual articles of clothing one at a time (this was after a several-year period where I made due with blankets, curtains, shoelaces, and such while “pretending” to be a girl). Sometimes I would put on a pair of heels, stockings, or a dress, or dabble with cosmetics or shave my legs. Each was its own mini-transformation, where a part of my body would begin to resemble that of a woman in certain ways. After a while, I began to put it all together, to dress completely as a woman from head to toe. I looked rather ridiculous when I first began to do this, but over the course of many years, I slowly figured out what worked for me and what did not.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  The reporter Tom Junod profiled Rogers for a 1998 cover story in Esquire. In the process, he watched Rogers in action on set and commented, “Fred, of course, was an amazing perfectionist who didn’t—I wouldn’t say he drove those people, that’s the wrong word—but absolutely knew what he wanted when he wanted [it] and would not leave that day until he saw it.” His staff could sense the intensity, too. “There wasn’t a spontaneous bone in that man’s body,” observed Seamans. “He hated to go into anything unprepared.” But both Junod and the Neighborhood staff also understood innately that Rogers’s intensity was in service of something greater than a good show. He was driven by his high but flexible standards, commitment to guided drift, his unshakable service to children, but most of all, his energy was funneled into one thing: human connection. He forged connections quickly and deeply, with everyone. Ten-year-old Jeff Erlanger came on the show to explain how his electric wheelchair worked and why he used it. Nearly twenty years later, Jeff rolled onstage in a tuxedo at the Television Hall of Fame induction ceremony to introduce Rogers. Rogers, who had kept in touch but not seen his old friend since the original taping, leaped to his feet and clambered straight onstage, a huge smile on his face. Rogers connected with François Clemmons, the Black, gay actor who for twenty-five years played Officer Clemmons on the show; together, they quietly broke the color barrier by cooling their feet in a shared plastic wading pool—a revolutionary act in 1969. In his memoir, Clemmons remembers, “There was something serious yet comforting and disarming about him. His eyes hugged me without touching me.” Rogers once connected with an empty-eyed boy fiercely wielding a toy sword in Penn Station, who was forced into saying hello by his starstruck mother. Rogers leaned in and whispered, “Do you know you’re strong on the inside, too?” The boy, caught off guard at being given something he did not know he needed, nodded nearly imperceptibly. Rogers even connected with Koko, the gorilla who had been taught American Sign Language. It turned out she was a fan of the show. Upon meeting, she hugged him and wouldn’t let go. Then, in tribute to the opening sequence of the show she adored, she lovingly removed his shoes. In Esquire, Tom Junod wrote about Rogers, “There was an energy to him ... a fearlessness, an unashamed insistence on intimacy,” and, tellingly: Once upon a time, a man named Fred Rogers decided that he wanted to live in heaven.

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  Soon she grew warm and I pulled off my nightshirt and my middle finger was caressing her sex that opened quickly: “E—E!” she said drawing in her breath quickly: “it still hurts.” I put my sex gently against hers, moving it up and down slowly till she drew up her knees to let me in; but as soon as the head entered, her face puckered a little with pain and as I had had a long afternoon, I was the more inclined to forbear and accordingly I drew away and took place beside her: “I cannot bear to hurt you,” I said, “love’s pleasure must be mutual.” “You’re sweet!” she whispered, “I’m glad you stopped; for it shows you really care for me and not just for the pleasure!” and she kissed me lovingly. “Kate, reward me,” I said, “by telling me just what you felt when I first had you” and I put her hand on my hot stiff sex to encourage her. “It’s impossible,” she said, flushing a little, “there was such a throng of new feelings; why, this evening waiting in bed for the time to pass and thinking of you, I felt a strange prickling sensation in the inside of my thighs that I never felt before and now”—and she hid her glowing face against my neck, “I feel it again!” “Love is funny, isn’t it?” she whispered the next moment: “now the pricking sensation is gone and the front part of my sex burns and itches, Oh! I must touch it!” “Let me,” I cried, and in a moment I was on her, working my organ up and down on her clitoris, the porch, so to speak, of Love’s temple. A little later she herself sucked the head into her hot, dry pussy and then closed her legs as if in pain to stop me going further; but I began to rub my sex up and down on her tickler, letting it slide right in, every now and then, till she panted and her love-juice came and my weapon sheathed itself in her naturally. I soon began the very slow and gentle in-and-out movements which increased her excitement steadily while giving her more and more pleasure, till I came and immediately she lifted my chest up from her breasts with both hands and showed me her glowing face. “Stop, boy,” she gasped, “please: my heart’s fluttering so! I came too, you know, just with you” and indeed I felt her trembling all over convulsively. I drew out and for safety’s sake got her to use the syringe, having already explained its efficacy to her; she was adorably awkward and when she had finished I took her to bed again and held her to me, kissing her. “So you really love me, Kate!” “Really,” she said, “you don’t know how much!”

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  “Rose, Rose,” I said, “you mustn’t be too hard on us: we’re different from you girls and that’s all.” “How do you mean?” she asked. “I mean that mere desire”, I said, “just the wish to kiss and enjoy you, strikes the man first; but behind that lust is often a good deal of affection, and sometimes a deep and sacred tenderness comes to flower; whereas the girl begins with the liking and affection and learns to enjoy the kissing and caressing afterwards.” “I see”, she rejoined quietly, “I think I understand: I’m glad to believe that.” Her unexpected depth and sincerity impressed me and I continued: “We men may be so hungry that we will eat very poor fruit greedily because it’s at hand; but that doesn’t prove that we don’t prefer good and sweet and nourishing food when we can get it.” She let her eyes dwell on mine: “I see”, she said, “I see!” And then I went on tell her how lovely she was and how she had made a deathless impression on me and I ventured to hope she liked me a little and would yet be good to me and come to care for me, and I was infinitely pleased to find that this was the right sort of talk and I did my best in the new strain. Three or four times a week I took her out in a buggy and in a little while I had taught her how to kiss and won her to confess that she cared for me, loved me indeed and bit by bit she allowed me the little familiarities of love. One day I took her out early for a picnic and said, “I’ll play Turk and you must treat me” and I stretched myself out on a rug under a tree. She entered into the spirit of the game with zest, brought me food and at length, as she stood close beside me, I couldn’t control myself; I put my hand up her dress on her firm legs and sex. Next moment I was kneeling beside her: “Love me, Rose”, I begged, “I want you so: I’m hungry for you, dear!” She looked at me gravely with wide-open eyes: “I love you too”, she said, “but oh! I’m afraid: be patient with me!” she added like a little girl. I was patient but persistent and I went on caressing her till her hot lips told me that I had really excited her.

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  The house and stable were situated on a long billowy rise perhaps three hundred yards away from a good-sized creek which I soon christened Snake-Creek for snakes of all sorts and sizes simply swarmed in the brush and woodland of the banks. The big sitting-room of the ranch was decorated with revolvers and rifles of a dozen different kinds and pictures, strange to say, cut out of the illustrated papers: the floor was covered with buffalo and bear rugs and rarer skins of mink and beaver hung here and there on the wooden walls. We got to the ranch late one night and I slept in a room with Dell, he taking the bed while I rolled myself in a rug on the couch. But I slept like a top and next morning was out before sunrise to take stock so to speak. An Indian lad showed me the stable and as luck would have it Blue Devil in a loose box, all to herself and very uneasy. “What’s the matter with her?” I asked, and the Indian told me she had rubbed her ear raw where it joins the head and the flies had got on it and plagued her: I went to the house and got Peggy, the mulatto cook to fill a bucket with warm water and with this bucket and a sponge I entered the loose box: Blue Devil came for me and nipped my shoulder but as soon as I clapped the sponge with warm water on her ear, she stopped biting and we soon became friends. That same afternoon, I led her out in front of the ranch saddled and bridled, got on her and walked her off as quiet as a lamb. “She’s yours!” said Reece; “but if she ever gets your foot in her mouth, you’ll know what pain is!” It appeared that that was a little trick she had, to tug and tug at the reins till the rider let them go loose and then at once she would twist her head round, get the rider’s toes in her mouth and bite like a fiend. No one she disliked could mount her; for she fought like a man with her fore-feet; but I never had any difficulty with her and she saved my life more than once. Like most feminine creatures she responded immediately to kindness and was faithful to affection. * * *

• From The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, Vol. 4: Reformation of Church and Dogma (1300-1700) (1984)

  "By a wonderful exchange he entered into a bargain of salva- THE PERSON OF THE GOD-MAN 258 Leo M.Serm.54.4 (SC 74:33) Aug.C<?»/.9.13.36 (CSEL 33:225) Leo M.Tom.5 (ACO 2-11-1:27) Leo U.Tom.4 (ACO 2-II- 1:28); Leo M.Serm.55.5 (SC 74:38) Grillmeier (1965) 466 tion, taking upon himself what was ours and granting us what was his." Most metaphors of the atonement that were transmitted by the tradition appeared in this theol ogy as well, often in combination, as in Augustine's words about his mother: "She knew that [at the altar] the holy sacrifice was dispensed by which the handwriting that was against us is blotted out; and that enemy vanquished who, when he summed up our offenses and searched for some thing to bring against us, could find nothing in Him, in whom we conquer." In such statements as this, the rela tion between the imitation of the humility of Christ, the sacrifice of the blood of Christ, the victory of Christ over the enemies of mankind, the ransom paid either to God or to the devil, and various other ways of describing the achievement of salvation was not worked out very pre cisely. What was clear, however, was that each was taken to require a christology of preexistence, kenosis, and ex altation, a christology of two natures in one person. Drawing upon this tradition, Leo concluded that the kenosis or "emptying" of Philippians 2:7 had to be in terpreted as "the bending down of compassion, not the failing of power." Therefore, "while the distinctness of both natures and substances is preserved, and both meet in one person, lowliness is assumed by majesty, weakness by power, mortality by eternity." A passible humanity was joined to an impassible divinity, so that Christ would "from one element be capable of dying, and from the other be incapable." This was the meaning of the stories in the Gospels, all of which, both the evidences of kenosis and the proofs of continuing divine power, had to be ac counted for in a christological doctrine: both the lowli ness of the swaddling clothes and the glory of the angels' song; both the vulnerability to Herod and the adoration of the Magi; both "being pierced with nails and opening the gates of Paradise to the faith of the thief" on the cross. And so "the rhythm of his language swings to and fro like a pendulum, from the divine side to the human side, from the transcendence of God to the immanence of our earthly history. The latter should be noted. Despite all his predilection for a static treatment of the nature of Christ, corresponding to the doctrine of the two natures, Leo again and again shows his love for a salvation-histor ical approach." He dealt both with "times" and with "na tures" in his exposition of the mystery of the dispensa tion.

• From How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety (2018)

  You know that if you jump in before you’re confident your confidence will catch up. You know that if you choose a role, a goal, or otherwise create some structure for yourself, you’ll feel more certain and focused. You know that each trip over the anxiety peak erodes it. You know to drop your safety behaviors—those life preservers that do nothing but hold you under, and by doing so you’ll reap the authenticity that follows. You know to shift your attention to the task at hand, the person in front of you, or even, mindfully, to your breath. You can see yourself as others see you instead of the funhouse mirror image. You can dare to be average. You can trust that your foibles and blunders make you more endearing. You know to keep showing up, to disclose bits of your life, and to show others you like them. And most of all, you know to be kind and trustworthy. All these tools are in your toolbox, a shiny new set. Plus, they’ve all been shown to work again and again by some of the most brilliant research minds out there. But just like it took you time and practice to learn to ride a bike or drive a car, it will take time and practice to master these new tools. But you don’t have to master all of them (remember, we’re toning down the perfectionism). Choose your two or three favorites and make them your go-tos. For me, asking myself, “How bad would that really be?,” turning my attention inside out, and showing people I like them are my go-tos. These get me through 90 percent of my anxious moments. And the other 10 percent? Well, either I get a good story out of it or, yes, sometimes I fold ’em and try again later. Best yet, you can lose social anxiety without losing the good things that come along with it. The good things? Yes, remember, a propensity toward social anxiety comes as a package deal. We are empathetic—we have the ability to understand and share the feelings of others. We are conscientious—we do things thoroughly and well. Those high standards of ours propel us to success in what we do. Finally, we value getting along. And in an increasingly fractious world, the ability to get along—to be kind, to be trusted—is ultimately what will draw others to you. But most of all, inseparable from caring what people think is, simply, caring about people. Think of the Hallmark slogan, “When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best.” By caring enough, you send into the world your best efforts. By caring enough, you offer the world incredible strength and value. So while it’s important to turn down the dimmer switch of social anxiety to the point where it no longer freaks you out or gets in the way of living the life you want, don’t lose your care and concern for others.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  There were plenty of volunteers, many of them parents, and they divided the children into groups by age. She and Harriet and two of the mothers took the four- to seven-year-olds and handed out Dixie Cups to get things going. Right away a little girl shouted, “I got Lassie!” She licked the cover of her Dixie Cup clean to show Leah. Another began to cry. “I want Lassie, too.” “Let’s see who you have,” Leah said, wiping the child’s tears. “Go ahead and lick it clean so we can see.” She did and held it up to Leah. “Ooh, you have Natalie Wood!” Leah told her. “You’re lucky because Natalie Wood is a very famous movie star, and look how pretty she is. And you know what? She was a movie star when she was your age.” “I’m six.” “Well, that’s swell. Six is a good age to be.” When Henry arrived with the photographer, who didn’t look old enough to drive, Leah took off her apron, smoothed out her blue dress and reapplied her lipstick. Harriet, who knew Leah and Henry were seeing each other, whispered, “You look good enough to be the photo on a Dixie Cup.” “As good as Lassie?” Leah whispered. “Nobody can compete with Lassie.” Leah laughed, then clapped her hands to get the children’s attention. “Boys and girls,” Leah said. “This is Mr. Henry Ammerman. He’s a reporter for the Elizabeth Daily Post and he’s going to write a story about us.” She liked saying his name out loud. Henry Ammerman. When she did, Henry waved at the children. “And this is Todd Dirkson,” Henry said of the boy photographer. “He’s going to take a picture. Maybe you’ll see it in tomorrow’s paper.” Todd held up his Speed Graphic, so the children could see his camera. Henry and Todd conferred, then suggested they gather around the piano. Leah sat down and began to play the introduction to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” She motioned for the children to sit on the floor around her. Some were still eating their Dixie Cups with the little wooden spoons, some faces were already smeared with chocolate frosting from the cupcakes. Harriet ran around with a damp cloth trying to wipe their faces clean, knowing the parents would want their children to look their Sunday best in the paper. “All eyes here, please,” Leah said, as she continued to play and sing. “Then one foggy Christmas eve, Santa came to say…” Half of the children sang along with Leah, the other half were more interested in the camera or looking out the windows. Todd clicked while Leah was at her most animated. Henry waited until she’d finished the song, then called, “Thanks, everyone. Thanks, Miss Cohen!” “You’re very welcome, Mr. Ammerman!” “Happy holidays, Miss Cohen!” “Same to you, Mr. Ammerman.” Oh, she really, really liked Henry Ammerman! She might say loved but she was superstitious about using that word too soon.

• From Real Sex for Real Women (2008)

  Seduce him The next time your partner is having a tough week at work, surprise him with a sexy pampering gift. Run him a hot bubble bath when he gets home and then climb in beside him. Scrub his body, wash his hair, then lead him to the bedroom and offer him sex the way he likes it most. Your man will love feeling cared for, and you will get a rush from being so proactive and seductive. Trust in lingerie Make sexiness part of your daily routine—wear seductive lingerie that enhances your shape, even on a normal office day. It will be a little secret that no one else knows except you and your partner—if he’s lucky. You’ll find that you feel different about yourself when you are wearing sexy underwear instead of granny panties. It might even give you the confidence you need to rush home from work, undress for your partner, and drag him straight to bed. [image file=image_rsrc3AJ.jpg] Chapter 4: Know your RelationshipTypes of Relationships Affairs Connecting with your Relationship Intimacy and Romance Communication Female Communication Communicating with your Partner Communicating Needs and Desires Listening and Asking Our human bonds are vital in keeping us happy. A strong, healthy relationship with a person you love and respect brings support, joy, friendship, fun, passion, and love. Yet our relationships are constantly evolving—highs, lows, and everything in between are part of our romantic journey. As both of you grow and change, you might find your relationship changes, too. At times your sex life may hit a stalemate as your career takes off or your parental responsibilities increase. The challenge is to keep your relationship fresh and sexy throughout life’s many stages. [image file=image_rsrc3AK.jpg] Types of RelationshipsWhere are you in your relationship? Are you delighting in the butterflies-in-the-stomach phase, when every moment is exciting? Are you at the stage where you sleep in his T-shirt and boxers without worrying about your appearance? Or are you at the point where his minor bad habits grate on your nerves, and you long for the time when your relationship was fun, flirtatious, and sexy? Whatever the case, each stage and each type of relationship presents women with unique challenges and blessings. Review your relationshipRomantic relationships can be incredibly varied, so a one-stop shop for advice won’t work for everyone—each situation is unique and requires a different set of responses to effect positive change. In order to maintain a strong emotional and sexual relationship throughout the natural progression of your life, you need to understand where you are in your relationship and where you want your relationship to be in the future.

• From The Vagina Monologues (1998)

  I was there when her vagina opened. We were all there: her mother, her husband, and I, / and the nurse from the Ukraine with her whole hand / up there in her vagina feeling and turning with her rubber / glove as she talked casually to us — like she was turning on a loaded faucet. I was there when her vagina changed / from a shy sexual hole / to an archaeological tunnel, a sacred vessel, / a Venetian canal, a deep well with a tiny stuck child inside, / waiting to be rescued. I saw the colors of her vagina. They changed. / Saw the bruised broken blue / the blistering tomato red / the gray pink, the dark; / saw the blood like perspiration along the edges / saw the yellow, white liquid, the shit, the clots / pushing out all the holes, pushing harder and harder I was there later when I just turned and faced her vagina. / I stood and let myself see / her all spread, completely exposed, / mutilated, swollen, and torn, / bleeding all over the doctor's hands / who was calmly sewing her there.

• From Action (2014)

  There are lots of other non-monogamous permutations, from marriage-like unions among a group of people to “monogamish” situations, a term coined by the sex advice columnist Dan Savage that refers to situations in which a couple is mostly monogamous, but give each other leeway for occasional extracurricular fun, either together or separately. • Set clear ground rules with your partner. Being upfront with each other about what you can and can’t do outside of the time you spend together is hands down the most important factor in maintaining an open relationship—like, the whole point of non-exclusive arrangements is to absolve yourselves of the deception and guilt that come with “cheating.” I think starting a relationship with the understanding that you’d like it to be non-monogamous is probably far easier than trying to open a monogamous relationship, but the template for bringing the subject up is the same either way. Saying, like, “GUESS WHAT? I want to fool around with other people!! Fun, right?” is a great way to hurt somebody’s feelings, put them on the defensive, and/or make them think that you’re not attracted to them anymore. Instead, start by telling your partner why committing (or staying committed) to each other is a priority for you (e.g., “I love being with you in all ways, so I don’t want you to think that what I’m about to tell you means I’m not into you anymore. I’m bringing this up because our relationship is important to me, and I want it to last for a long time”). Then explain how you’re feeling, why you think your connection would be strengthened by non-monogamy, and what ideas you have about how to incorporate those ideas into your romantic life together. Some important things to not only think about, but actually discuss with your heart-person, are whether it’s okay to see other people more than once, and in what context (Can you go on dates? Are you cool with only one-time, strictly physical encounters?), whether there’s a limit to what you can do with your side-pieces (maybe kissing is totally peachy by you, but sexing other people is more of a moldy, rotten banana that you’ll break up with someone for eating?), and how cool you are with telling each other about your external entanglements. Be respectful: Trying to force someone to relax their boundaries is gonna end in tears. Locate a happy medium and stick to it. You love this person, so don’t do things you know will hurt them. There’s no simpler or truer aspect of romantic love than that one, for real.

• From The Girls (2016)

  Squinting up at the sun while Country Joe sounded from the house. Clouds drifting across the blue, outlined in neon. “Check out Orphan Annie,” Suzanne said, rolling her eyes at Caroline. Caroline was overdoing it at first, her stumbling, dopey affect, but soon the drug actually caught up to her and she got wild-eyed and a little scared. She was thin enough that I could see the glandular throb at her throat. Suzanne was watching her, too, and I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. Helen, Caroline’s supposed cousin, didn’t say anything, either. She was sunstruck, catatonic, stretched out on a piece of old carpet and listing a hand over her eyes. Giggling to no one. I went over to Caroline finally, touching her tiny shoulder. “How’s it going?” I said. She didn’t look up until I said her name. I asked her where she was from; she screwed her eyes tight. It was the wrong thing to say—of course it was, bringing up all that bad shit from the outside, whatever rotten memories were probably doubling right then. I didn’t know how to pull her back from the bog. “You want this?” I said, holding up the bracelet. She peeked at it. “Just have to finish it,” I said, “but it’s for you.” Caroline smiled. “It’s gonna look real nice on you,” I went on. “It’ll go good with your shirt.” The electricity in her eyes calmed. She held her own shirt away from her body to study it, softening. “I made it,” she said, fingering the embroidered outline of a peace sign on the shirt, and I saw the hours she’d spent on it, maybe borrowing her mother’s sewing box. It seemed easy: to be kind to her, to put the finished bracelet around her wrist, burning the knot with a match so she’d have to cut it off. I didn’t notice Suzanne eyeing us, her own bracelet ignored in her lap. “Beautiful,” I said, lifting Caroline’s wrist. “Nothing but beauty.” As if I were an occupant of that world, someone who could show the way to others. Such grandiosity mixed up in my feelings of kindness; I was starting to fill in all the blank spaces in myself with the certainties of the ranch. The cool glut of Russell’s words—no more ego, turn off the mind. Pick up the cosmic wind instead. Our beliefs as mild and digestible as the sweet rolls and cakes we hustled from a bakery in Sausalito, stuffing our faces with the easy starch. —In the days after, Caroline followed me like a stray dog. Hovering, in the doorway of Suzanne’s room, asking if I wanted one of the cigarettes she’d cadged from the bikers. Suzanne stood up and clasped her elbows behind her back, stretching. “They just gave you them?” Suzanne said archly. “For free?” Caroline glanced at me. “The cigarettes?” Suzanne laughed without saying anything else.

• From Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (2000)

  Art, gymnastics, and swimming quickly moved to the top of her list. Cults typically exert strong control and legislate members' morality; thus, Ganga was not encouraged to develop her own values. Fortunately we got her back young enough to begin this process. Her development was delayed, but only a year or two behind other so-called normal children. In the beginning, our nuclear family of just five members was boring and tedious for her. She had lived in a home with close to thirty people and an ashram of almost one hundred. With fewer caretakers and only one set of rules, it was more difficult for her to manipulate people to get what she wanted. I think she was relieved, however, to have the structure and support provided by the family. And for the first time in her life, she got her own room. In the cult, Ganga had been lied to about who her parents and siblings were and even when her birthday was. From the beginning, she was cast as a character in the leader's fantasy. How could she learn to trust after being lied to and deceived so completely? This is an issue we will struggle with for a long time. We had to start from the beginning, and are building trust step by step. It has taken a lot of teamwork to be consistent, dependable, and truly honest with her at all times. One of the first things we did was to find our daughter a safe place to talk about her cult experience. We searched for therapists who worked with children and had some knowledge of cults. After interviewing several, we selected one and started Ganga in therapy as soon as we got custody of her. She saw that therapist for two years and a school counselor for a year and a half concurrently. Her damaged sense of trust is slowly healing. When we got custody, Ganga's emotional functioning was that of a younger child. She had not been allowed to develop a full range of emotions. She was specifically not allowed to express negative emotions. We allowed her to express her feelings and tried to honor her pain. It took months before she let herself cry and feel her intense grief at losing her first family. The emotion she had the least experience with, however, was anger. We encouraged and allowed her to express anger in appropriate ways. Her younger brothers' fights showed her one way; we suggested others. She experimented and came up with journal keeping as an effective outlet for years of repressed anger. Ganga continues to struggle with loyalty issues: loyalty to her cult family and loyalty to her biological family. Four years after she joined us, she confided that her nightmare is to have to choose between the two. The best way we could find to help her bridge the two worlds was to occasionally let her see a few "safe" ex-members of the group.

• From The Principle of Desire (2013)

  Professor, I reminded myself, because we were in the club so I couldn’t use his first name. After another endless time, the pain started to wear on me again as Beth stepped up the power. I gasped with each strike. It was too much to process, too hard to turn into pleasure. Beth seemed to sense it too because she stopped at last. My back was a mass of buzzing tingles when she stepped away, and my Professor knew just what to do. He crowded in against me, shielding me from everyone else, which was so sweet and protective it made me want to cry. What actually did make me cry were his fingers, pinching deep against one of the welts Beth had left. Making it his own. The best kind of pain. I squirmed, his clothes scraped against my throbbing back, and he pinned me tighter to the column with his weight and grabbed my ponytail with his free hand. Holding me together so I didn’t fly apart. And then, “Good girl, Camilla.” Yes...oh, yes. The Professor stroked my arms and shoulders, massaging them one at a time with strong, gentle fingers. He hit all the right spots, like he always did. I knew he had a set of mental diagrams—perhaps even actual ones—where he’d labeled all the muscle connectors, the most tender spots, the places that would most likely need addressing after his sub was restrained in this or that position. My own preferences were on those diagrams, too. His brain was a vast warehouse of neatly organized knowledge, and this section was particularly well populated because he liked it. Loved it. Loved me. He’d written me into his knowledge base in so many ways, but this was a favorite for both of us. The care and keeping of your submissive. My high from Beth’s flogging began to dissipate a little, and was replaced with a growing frustration. When I pushed back against the Professor’s hips, he clamped his teeth on the back of my neck for a few seconds. “You can feel your hands?” he asked when he backed off. I nodded. “Good. My turn. Spread your legs a bit more.” Anticipation fired up my nerves, sending a thrill through my core. He’d told me what he was planning for that night. A new toy, one he’d been saving for use at the club because his bedroom was too small. You needed some space to throw a bullwhip.

• From Bright Lights, Big City (1984)

  Introductions, brief confusion about whether everyone has met. Allagash tells you, with a deprecating roll of his eyes, that Vicky is studying Philosophy at Princeton. He introduces you as a literary cult celebrity whose name has not yet reached the provinces. “Hate to dash out again. But I said seven-thirty and Inge thought I said ten. So she’s still in media dress, as we say. Got to get crosstown and pick her up. But let’s by all means meet for dinner.” He consults his watch. “Let’s say nine-thirty. Better make it ten. Ten o’clock at Raoul’s. Don’t forget.” He slips a glass vial into your pocket while he’s kissing Vicky. Then he’s gone in a wake of camel’s hair. Vicky seems confused by her cousin’s hospitality. “Did you catch all that?” “More or less.” You know you will not see Tad for the rest of the night. “He said seven-thirty and his date thought he said ten?” “It’s a common mistake.” “Well,” she says, putting her book in her purse. This could have been a very awkward situation, but she’s taking it in stride. “What now?” Allagash has bribed you with a piece of the rock. You could invite her back to your place to share the booty, but somehow you think not. Although you suppose she would appreciate it, you’d like to see if it’s possible to get through an evening without chemicals for a change. Hear yourself and another person talk without Speedy Gonzales South American accents. You ask her if she wants to stay for another drink, and she asks what you want to do. Eventually you ascend the stairs to the street. You think of Plato’s pilgrims climbing out of the cave, from the shadow world of appearances toward things as they really are, and you wonder if it is possible to change in this life. Being with a philosopher makes you think. You linger at the edge of Sheridan Square to watch an acrobat ride a unicycle across a tightrope strung between the fences. A teenager in the crowd turns to Vicky and says, “He did that between the towers of the World Trade Center.” “Can you imagine,” a woman asks. “Sounds like my job,” you say. When the acrobat passes the hat you throw in a buck. You walk west, without any firm destination in mind. Vicky is telling you about her work. She’s in her third year of graduate school, came in for an NYU conference at which she will read a rebuttal to an article entitled: “Why There Are No People.” The evening is cool. You find yourself walking the Village, pointing out landmarks and favorite townhouses. Only yesterday you would have considered such a stroll too New Jersey for words, but tonight you remember how much you used to like this part of the city. The whole neighborhood smells of Italian food. The streets have friendly names and cut weird angles into the rectilinear map of the city.