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 The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Nothing is commoner than the remark that Man differs from lower creatures by the almost total absence of instincts, and the assumption of their work in him by 'reason.' A fruitless discussion might be waged on this point by two theorizers who were careful not to define their terms. 'Reason' might be used, as it often has been, since Kant, not as the mere power of 'inferring,' but also as a name for the tendency to obey impulses of a certain lofty sort, such as duty, or universal ends. And 'instinct ' might have its significance so broadened as to cover all impulses whatever, even the impulse to act from the idea of a distant fact, as well as the impulse to act from a present sensation. Were the word instinct used in this broad way, it would of course be impossible to restrict it, as we began by doing, to actions done with no prevision of an end. We must of course avoid a quarrel about words, and the facts of the case are really tolerably plain. Man has a far greater variety of impulses than any lower animal; and any one of these impulses, taken in itself, is as 'blind' as the lowest instinct can be; but, owing to man's memory, power of reflection, and power of inference, they come each one to be felt by him, after he has once yielded to them and experienced their results, in connection with a foresight of those results. In this condition an impulse acted out may be said to be acted out, in pert at least, for the sake of its results. It is obvious that every instinctive act, in an animal with memory, must cease to be 'blind' after being once repeated , and must be accompanied with foresight of its 'end' just so far as that end may have fallen under the animal's cognizance. An insect that lays her eggs in a place where she never sees them hatched must always do so 'blindly;' but a hen who has already hatched a brood can hardly be assumed to sit with perfect 'blindness' on her second nest. Some expectation of consequences must in every case like this be aroused; and this expectation, according as it is that of something desired or of something disliked, must necessarily either reinforce or inhibit the mere impulse. The hen's idea of the chickens would probably encourage her to sit; a rat's memory, on, the other hand, of a former escape from a trap would neutralize his impulse to take bait from anything that reminded him of that trap. If a boy sees a fat hopping-toad, he probably has incontinently an impulse (especially if with other boys) to smash the creature with a stone, which impulse we may suppose him blindly to obey. But something in the expression of the dying toad's clasped hands suggests the meanness of the act, or reminds him of sayings he has heard about the sufferings of animals being like his own; so that, when next he is tempted by a toad, an idea arises which, far from spurring him again to the torment, prompts kindly actions, and may even make him the toad's champion against less reflecting boys.

• From The Girls (2016)

  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?”

• From The Pisces (2018)

  Now that I knew he was the one who had brought the darkness I felt that I didn’t have to be as afraid anymore. The gloom wasn’t coming from me. I was still responsible for him but not for the atmosphere. So many times I had tried to fix things, people’s feelings, the shifting moods of men, by adjusting my own behavior. But in this case it was beyond me. He was, after all, supernatural. Did he even exist? I decided that he existed like a mood. In some ways, my moods did and did not exist. People said that you could will a mood into being or will it away. Just think positively. But I never felt that way. My moods were their own entities, even if no one could understand why they were there. That was what made me scared of feelings. I realized now that what I had to do, in spite of what others said, was not try to change a mood but surrender to it. I had to surrender to whatever feelings arrived and in doing so I could maybe ride them, floating on the waves. I decided I was going to surrender. “We could rest a bit,” I said. “I’m tired too.” “Yes, let’s rest,” he said. “I’d like that. Come here, come lie down with me.” I got on the sofa with him and we lay there face-to-face. He closed his eyes and I kissed his eyelids and cheeks. He gathered me in his arms and his upper body was warm. Everything above his tail was soft. I didn’t know what to do with our lower halves. I couldn’t intertwine my legs with his tail as if it was a pair of legs, so I wrapped one leg around him and pressed the other leg straight against his tail. Usually when I cuddled with another body, I would have to separate before falling asleep. I would feel too trapped or get too hot pressed so close against them. But Theo’s tail was cool, almost like a built-in fan or compress, and I was reminded of what my friend’s aunt taught me years ago as a trick for insomnia: keep one leg under the blanket and one leg out. It was as though I had one leg under a towel in the sun and one dipped in the sea. When I thought of it this way I slipped into the waves. His breathing was rhythmic and the slight scent of fish drifted up from him. The sun came in the window and shone on our heads, and we both drifted off with our faces in a glow. —We woke up around noon. Theo stirred and pulled me closer. “Mmmmmm,” he breathed in my ear. I kissed him on the lips. His breath tasted less fresh than usual, a bit like wet leather.

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

  In few respects are the worship and teaching of the Middle Ages so different from those of the Protestant churches as in the claims made for Mary and the regard paid to her. If we are to judge by the utterances and example of Pius IX. and Leo XIII., the mediaeval cult still goes on in the Roman communion. And more recently Pius X. shows that he follows his predecessors closely. In his encyclical of Jan. 15, 1907, addressed to the French bishops, he says, "In full confidence that the Virgin Immaculate, daughter of our Father, mother of the Word, spouse of the Holy Ghost, will obtain for you from the most holy and adorable Trinity better days, we give you our Apostolic Benediction." It was the misfortune of the mediaeval theologians to fall heir to the eulogies passed upon Mary by Jerome and other early Fathers of the early Church and the veneration in which she was held. They blindly followed having inherited also the allegorical mode of interpretation from the past. In part they were actuated by a sincere purpose to exalt the glory and divinity of Christ when they ascribed to Mary exemption from sin. On the other hand it was a Pagan, though chivalric, superstition to exalt her to a position of a goddess who stands between Christ and the sinner and mitigates by her intercession the austerity which marks his attitude towards them. This was the response the mediaeval Church gave to the exclamation of St. Bernard, "Who is this virgin so worthy of honor as to be saluted by the angel and so lowly as to have been espoused to a carpenter?"2041 The tenderest piety of the Middle Ages went out to her and is expressed in such hymns as the Mater dolorosa and the companion piece, Mater speciosa. But this piety, while it no doubt contributed to the exaltation of womanhood, also involved a relaxation of penitence, for in the worship of Mary tears of sympathy are substituted for resolutions of repentance. § 131. The Worship of Relics. Literature: See Lit., p. 268 sq. Guibert of Nogent, d. 1124: de pignoribus sanctorum, Migne, vol. 156, 607–679.—Guntherus: Hist. Constantinopol., Migne, vol. 212.—Peter the Venerable: de miraculis, Migne, vol. 189.—Caesar of Heisterbach, Jacob of Voragine, Salimbene, etc.—P. Vignon: The Shroud of Christ, Engl. trans., N. Y., 1903.

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

  repudiating his first wife, an obscure person] "he married a daughter of Desiderius, King of the Lombards, at the instance of his mother" [notwithstanding the protest of the pope]; "but he repudiated her at the end of a year for some reason unknown, and married Hildegard, a woman of high birth, of Swabian origin [d. 783]. He had three sons by her,—Charles, Pepin, and Lewis—and as many daughters,—Hruodrud, Bertha, and Gisela." [Eginhard omits Adelaide and Hildegard.] "He had three other daughters besides these—Theoderada, Hiltrud, and Ruodhaid—two by his third wife, Fastrada, a woman of East Frankish (that is to say of German) origin, and the third by a concubine, whose name for the moment escapes me. At the death of Fastrada, he married Liutgard, an Alemannic woman, who bore him no children. After her death he had three [according to another reading four] concubines—Gerswinda, a Saxon, by whom he had Adaltrud; Regina, who was the mother of Drogo and Hugh; and Ethelind, by whom he had Theodoric. Charles’s mother, Berthrada, passed her old age with him in great honor; he entertained the greatest veneration for her; and there was never any disagreement between them except when he divorced the daughter of King Desiderius, whom he had married to please her. She died soon after Hildegard, after living to see three grandsons and as many grand-daughters in her son’s house, and he buried her with great pomp in the Basilica of St. Denis, where his father lay. He had an only [surviving] sister, Gisela, who had consecrated herself to a religious life from girlhood, and he cherished as much affection for her as for his mother. She also died a few years before him in the nunnery where she had passed her life. The plan which he adopted for his children’s education was, first of all, to have both boys and girls instructed in the liberal arts, to which he also turned his own attention. As soon as their years admitted, in accordance with the custom of the Franks, the boys had to learn horsemanship, and to practise war and the chase, and the girls to familiarize themselves with cloth-making, and to handle distaff and spindle, that they might not grow indolent through idleness, and he fostered in them every virtuous sentiment. He only lost three of all his children before his death, two sons and one daughter .... When his sons and his daughters died, he was not so calm as might have been expected from his remarkably strong mind, for his affections were no less strong, and moved him to tears. Again when he was told of the death of Hadrian, the Roman Pontiff, whom he had loved most of all his friends, he wept as much as if he had lost a brother, or a very dear son.

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

  These errors greatly stimulated and largely vitiated that virtue, and do it to this day.374 The Latin word caritas, which originally denotes dearness or costliness (from carus, dear), then esteem, affection, assumed in the church the more significant meaning of benevolence and beneficence, or love in active exercise, especially to the poor and suffering among our fellow-men. The sentiment and the deed must not be separated, and the gift of the hand derives its value from the love of the heart. Though the gifts are unequal, the benevolent love should be the same, and the widow’s mite is as much blessed by God as the princely donation of the rich. Ambrose compares benevolence in the intercourse of men with men to the sun in its relation to the earth. "Let the gifts of the wealthy," says another father, "be more abundant, but let not the poor be behind him in love." Very often, however, charity was contracted into mere almsgiving. Praying, fasting, and almsgiving were regarded (as also among the Jews and Mohammedans) as the chief works of piety; the last was put highest. For the sake of charity it is right to break the fast or to interrupt devotion. Pope Gregory the Great best represents the mediaeval charity with its ascetic self-denial, its pious superstitions and utilitarian ingredients. He lived in that miserable transition period when the old Roman civilization was crumbling to pieces and the new civilization was not yet built up on its ruins. "We see nothing but sorrow," he says, "we hear nothing but complaints. Ah, Rome! once the mistress of the world, where is the senate? where the people? The buildings are in ruins, the walls are falling. Everywhere the sword! Everywhere death! I am weary of life! "But charity remained as an angel of comfort. It could not prevent the general collapse, but it dried the tears and soothed the sorrows of individuals. Gregory was a father to the poor. He distributed every month cart-loads of corn, oil, wine, and meat among them. What the Roman emperors did from policy to keep down insurrection, this pope did from love to Christ and the poor. He felt personally guilty when a man died of starvation in Rome. He set careful and conscientious men over the Roman hospitals, and required them to submit regular accounts of the management of funds. He furnished the means for the founding of a Xenodochium in Jerusalem. He was the chief promoter of the custom of dividing the income of the church into four equal parts, one for the bishop, one for the rest of the clergy, one for the church buildings, one for the poor. At the same time he was a strong believer in the meritorious efficacy of almsgiving for the living and the dead. He popularized Augustin’s notion of purgatory, supported it by monkish fables, and introduced masses for the departed (without the so-called thirties, i.e. thirty days after death).

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

  Crow at Winchester for old and indigent people.1295 The cook Ketel, a Brother of the Common Life, whose biography Thomas à Kempis wrote, said it would be better to sell all the books of the house at Deventer and give more to the poor. Hospitals, in the earlier part of our period, were the special concern of the knights of the Teutonic Order and continued throughout the whole of it to engage the attention of the Beguines. It became the custom also for the Beguines to go as nurses to private houses as in Cologne, Frankfurt, Treves, Ulm and other German cities, receiving pay for their services.1296 The Beguinages in Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp andother cities of Belgium and Holland date back to this period. The 15th century also witnessed the growth of municipal hospitals, a product of the civic spirit which had developed in North-Europe. Cities like Cologne, Lübeck and Augsburg had several hospitals. The Hotel de Dieu, Paris, did not come under municipal control till 1505. In cases, admission to hospitals was made by their founders conditional on ability to say the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed and the Ave Maria, as for example to St. Anthony’s, Augsburg. In this case, the founder took care to provide for himself, requiring the inmates on entering to say 100 Pater nosters and 100 Ave Marias over his grave and every day to join in saying over it 15 of each.1297 Damian of Löwen and his wife, who endowed a hospital at Cologne,1450, stipulated that "the very poorest and sickest were to be taken care of whether they belonged to Cologne or were strangers." Rome had more than one hospital endowment. The foundation of Cardinal John Colonna at the Lateran, made 1216, still remains. In his History of the Popes (III. 51), Pastor has given a list of the hospitals and other institutions of mercy in the different states of Italy and justly laid stress upon this evidence of the power of Christianity. The English gilds, organized, in the first instance, for economic and industrial purposes, also pledged relief to their own sick and indigent members. The gild of Corpus Christi at York provided 8 beds for poor people and paid a woman by the year 14 shillings and fourpence to keep them. The gild of St. Helena at Beverley cared constantly for 3 or 4 poor folk.1298 Leprosy decreased during the last years of the Middle Ages, but hospitals for the reception of lepers are still extensively found,—the lazarettos, so called after Lazarus, who was reputed to have been afflicted with the disease. Houses for this malady had been established in England by Lanfranc, Mathilda, queen of Henry I. at St. Giles, by King Stephen at Burton, Leicestershire and by others till the reign of John. St. Hugh of Lincoln, as well as St. Francis d’Assissidistinguished themselves by their solicitude for lepers.

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

  create ten Doctor Martin Luthers for the old one drowned perhaps in the Saale, or fallen dead by the fireplace, or on Wolf’s fowling floor. Leave me in peace with your cares; I have a better protector than you and all the angels. He—my Protector—lies in the manger and hangs upon a Virgin’s breast, but He sits also at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty. Rest, therefore, in peace. Amen."591 In his will (1542), seventeen years after his marriage, he calls her a "pious, faithful, and devoted wife, full of loving, tender care towards him." At times, however, he felt oppressed by domestic troubles, and said once he would not marry again, not even a queen. Those were passing moods. "Oh, how smoothly things move on, when man and wife sit lovingly at table! Though they have their little bickerings now and then, they must not mind that. Put up with it." "We must have patience with woman, though she be it times sharp and bitter. She presides over the household machinery, and the servants deserve occasionally a good scolding." He put the highest honor of woman on her motherhood. "All men," he said, "are conceived, born, and nursed by women. Thence come the little darlings, the highly prized heirs. This honor ought in fairness to cover up all feminine weakness." Luther had six children,—three daughters, two of whom died young, and three sons, Hans (John), Martin, and Paul. None inherited his genius. Hans gave him much trouble. Paul rose to some eminence as physician of the Elector, and died at Dresden, 1593. The sons accompanied their father on his last journey to Eisleben.592 His wife’s aunt, Magdalen von Bora, who had been a nun and head-nurse in the same cloister, lived with his family, and was esteemed like a grandmother by him and his children. Two orphan nieces, and a tutor for the boys, an amanuensis, and a number of students as boarders, belonged to the household in a portion of the former convent on the banks of the Elbe. The chief sitting-room of the family, his bedroom, and the lecture hall are still shown in "the Lutherhaus." He began the day, after his private devotions, which were frequent and ardent, with reciting in his family the Ten Commandments, the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and a Psalm. He went to bed at nine, but rose early, and kept wide awake during the day. Of his private devotions we have an authentic account from his companion, Veit Dietrich, who wrote to Melanchthon during the Diet of Augsburg, 1530, when Luther was at Coburg, feeling the whole weight of that great crisis: — "No day passes that he does not give three hours to prayer, and those the fittest for study. Once I happened to hear him praying. Good God! how great a spirit, how great a faith, was in his very words!

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

  One of the remarkable incidents in her career which she vouches for in one of her letters to Raymund was her treatment of Niccolo Tuldo, a young nobleman condemned to die for having uttered words disrespectful of the city government. The young man was in despair, but under Catherine’s influence he not only regained composure, but became joyful in the prospect of death. Catherine was with him at the block and held his head. She writes, "I have just received a head into my hands which was to me of such sweetness as no heart can think, or tongue describe." Before the execution she accompanied the unfortunate man to the mass, where he received the communion for the first time. His last words were "naught but Jesus and Catherine. And, so saying," wrote his benefactress, "I received his head in my hands." She then saw him received of Christ, and as she further wrote, "When he was at rest, my soul rested in peace, in so great fragrance of blood that I could not bear to remove the blood which had fallen on me from him." The fame of such a woman could not be held within the walls of her native city. Neighboring cities and even the pope in Avignon heard of her deeds of charity and her revelations. The guide of minds seeking the consolations of religion, the minister to the sick and dying, Catherine now entered into the wider sphere of the political life of Italy and the welfare of the Church. Her concern was divided between efforts to support the papacy and to secure the amelioration of the clergy and establish peace. With the zeal of a prophet, she urged upon Gregory XI. to return to Rome. She sought to prevent the rising of the Tuscan cities against the Avignon popes and to remove the interdict which was launched against Florence, and she supported Urban VI. against the anti-pope, Clement VII. With equal fervor she urged Gregory to institute a reformation of the clergy, to allow no weight to considerations of simony and flattery in choosing cardinals and pastors and "to drive out of the sheep-fold those wolves, those demons incarnate, who think only of good cheer, splendid feasts and superb liveries." She also was zealous in striving to stir up the flames of a new crusade. To Sir John Hawkwood, the freelance and terror of the peninsula, she wrote, calling upon him that, as he took such pleasure in fighting, he should thenceforth no longer direct his arms against Christians, but against the infidels. She communicated to the Queen of Cyprus on the subject. Again and again she urged it upon Gregory XI., and chiefly on the grounds that he "might minister the blood of the Lamb to the wretched infidels," and that converted, they might aid in driving pride and other vices out of the Christian world.367

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

  All these indications lead us to the spring of A.D. 58. The chronological order is this: Thessalonians were written first, A.D. 52 or 53; then Galatians, Corinthians, and Romans, between 56 and 58; then the Epistles of the captivity: Colossians, Ephesians, Philemon, Philippians, between 61 and 63; last, the Pastoral Epistles, but their date is uncertain, except that the second Epistle to Timothy is his farewell letter on the eve of his martyrdom. It is instructive to study the Epistles in their chronological order with the aid of the Acts, and so to accompany the apostle in his missionary career from Damascus to Rome, and to trace the growth of his doctrinal system from the documentary truths in Thessalonians to the height of maturity in Romans; then through the ramifications of particular topics in Colossians, Ephesians, Philippians, and the farewell counsels in the Pastoral Epistles. Doctrinal Arrangement. More important than the chronological order is the topical order, according to the prevailing object and central idea. This gives us the following groups: 1. Anthropological and Soteriological: Galatians and Romans. 2. Ethical and Ecclesiastical: First and Second Corinthians. 3. Christological: Colossians and Philippians. 4. Ecclesiological: Ephesians (in part also Corinthians). 5. Eschatological: Thessalonians. 6. Pastoral: Timothy and Titus. 7. Social and Personal: Philemon. The Style. "The style is the man." This applies with peculiar force to Paul. His style has been called "the most personal that ever existed."1134 It fitly represents the force and fire of his mind and the tender affections of his heart. He disclaims classical elegance and calls himself "rude in speech," though by no means "in knowledge." He carried the heavenly treasure in earthen vessels. But the defects are more than made up by excellences. In his very weakness the Strength of Christ was perfected. We are not lost in the admiration of the mere form, but are kept mindful of the paramount importance of the contents and the hidden depths of truth which he behind the words and defy the power of expression. Paul’s style is manly, bold, heroic, aggressive, and warlike; yet at times tender, delicate, gentle, and winning. It is involved, irregular, and rugged, but always forcible and expressive, and not seldom rises to more than poetic beauty, as in the triumphant paean at the end of the eighth chapter of Romans, and

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

  He sometimes speaks of her as his "Lord Katie," and of himself as her "willing servant." "Katie," he said to her, "you have a pious husband who loves you; you are an empress." Once in 1535 he promised her fifty guilders if she would read the Bible through; whereupon, as he told a friend, it became a very serious matter with her." She could not understand why God commanded Abraham to do such a cruel thing as to kill his own child; but Luther pointed her to God’s sacrifice of his only Son, and to the resurrection from the dead. To Katie and to Melanchthon he wrote his last letters (five to her, three to Melanchthon) from Eisleben shortly before his death, informing her of his journey, his diet and condition, complaining of fifty Jews under the protection of the widowed Countess of Mansfeld, sending greetings to Master Philip (Melanchthon), and quieting her apprehensions about his health. "Pray read, dear Katie, the Gospel of John and the little Catechism .... You worry yourself about your God, just as if He were not Almighty, and able to

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

  In the difficulties, which arose soon after Urban’s election, that pontiff looked to Siena and called its distinguished daughter to Rome. They had met in Avignon. Accompanied by her mother and other companions, she reached the holy city in the Autumn of 1378. They occupied a house by themselves and lived upon alms.368 Her summons to Urban "to battle only with the weapons of repentance, prayer, virtue and love" were not heeded. Her presence, however, had a beneficent influence, and on one occasion, when the mob raged and poured into the Vatican, she appeared as a peacemaker, and the sight of her face and her words quieted the tumult. She died lying on boards, April 29, 1380. To her companions standing at her side, she said: "Dear children, let not my death sadden you, rather rejoice to think that I am leaving a place of many sufferings to go to rest in the quiet sea, the eternal God, and to be united forever with my most sweet and loving Bridegroom. And I promise to be with you more and to be more useful to you, since I leave darkness to pass into the true and everlasting light." Again and again she whispered, "I have sinned, O Lord; be merciful to me." She prayed for Urban, for the whole Church and for her companions, and then she departed, repeating the words, "Into thy hands I commit my spirit." At the time of her death Catherine of Siena was not yet thirty-three years old. A magnificent funeral was ordered by Urban. A year after, her head, enclosed in a reliquary, was sent to her native Siena, and in 1461 she was canonized by the city’s famous son, pope Pius II., who uttered the high praise "that none ever approached her without going away better." In 1865 when Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome was reopened, her ashes were carried through the streets, the silver urn containing them being borne by four bishops. Lamps are kept ever burning at the altar dedicated to her in the church. In 1866 Pius IX. elevated the dyer’s daughter to the dignity of patron saint and protectress of Rome, a dignity she shares with the prince of the Apostles. With Petrarch she had been the most ardent advocate of its claims as the papal residence, and her zeal was exclusively religious.

• From The Pisces (2018)

  But underwater he was as powerful and graceful as Poseidon, only younger and gorgeous. Maybe he was the son of Poseidon, the wayward son. Maybe he was Aphrodite herself. “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s get you back to the house. Then I can kiss all your wounds.” 42. Dominic was sprawled flat on the floor of the pantry like a pancake and didn’t stir. I wanted to take Theo upstairs to the bed, but didn’t know how. So I moved the wagon over to the sofa and let him haul himself up again. “I want all of your blood,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he meant from my pussy or from the wound, but I sat on top of him on the sofa and kissed his mouth. He flipped me over, kissed me down my body, then gently kissed around my scraped knee. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s okay,” I said. He went up and down my leg until he was licking the crevice between my pussy and my thigh, then peeling my underpants off and licking my pussy. He flicked his tongue on my pussy, in the front, on my clit. Then he put his finger inside of me. It felt like two fingers were there because of my tampon. “Can I take this out?” he asked. I nodded and he pulled out my tampon and put it on the glass coffee table. The colors were both red and brown with a clump of purple blood on the side. I felt embarrassed. But he just kissed me and slipped two fingers in my pussy. Then he kissed down my belly back to my clit. Looking into his eyes, I thought, I will never forget this. He licked my blood off his fingers. He loves me, I thought. He completely and totally loves me. Soon there was blood on his face. I closed my eyes and rode his face. I came very quickly, for me. He had my blood dried and smeared across his cheek. I put my fingers in my pussy and smeared blood under his eyes like No Glare. It was funny to be dressing him up in my blood. Here he was, a man with a tail, and I was making him look even more bizarre. I was used to the tail by now. To me he was just a man or a boy or a boy-man, and I wanted to paint him with so many of my fluids: sweat, spit, blood. I wanted to brand or mark him. I imagined that in the ocean, blood would never stay in the entrance of a pussy. When I took baths with my period, or went swimming, my blood always stopped. We learned this in junior high school at swim practice: that your blood stops in water.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  I love the hunt, the flirting, the capturing, the moment when I know feelings are more than friendly, but I don’t think I need to do it again. I’m fully satisfied now. And I did think about you,” I say, putting the phone on the bed and climbing between the sheets. “What did you think about when you thought of me?” he asks. “I thought about how easy it is with you, how I’m comfortable with you even when I’m out of my comfort zone sexually. How new isn’t always better. How you treat me like I’m more than just a receptacle for your pleasure,” I say. “All this while fucking the man of your dreams on a beach in the Caribbean,” he says, laughing. “Make all the jokes you want. I know it’s hard for you to speak openly about your feelings. I’m telling you the truth, I have no incentive to conjure feelings to make you feel better about your manhood,” I say. “Do you think I’m a pervert because I want all the details?” he asks. “Absolutely,” I say. “But now I must sleep. My eyes are closing while I talk to you,” I say, and immediately fall into a deep, blissful slumber. CHAPTER 46WritingParked on lounge chairs next to the pool under the blazing morning sun, Georgia asks me to take her down the beach to get a coconut from Blaze, a request I suggest she take to Michael instead. I watch them walk away, swinging their hands together as they run through the hot sand to get to the edge of the water. I feel anxious, knowing I have something weighing on me that I need to share with Michael. It’s not about my dalliance the night before, as that’s something I get to keep all to myself, it’s about my writing. I’ve been working on it and I like doing it. It has been cathartic, allowing me to sort out my feelings as I put them into words on my computer screen or into the Wonder Woman Moleskine notebook #6 bought me, and my friends who work in publishing have told me they think it could be a book. I want nothing more than to take my heap of messy emotions and even messier dating stories and smooth them out, craft them together into a cohesive narrative, but the thought of revealing myself so publicly and outing Michael’s indiscretion are roadblocks I can’t get past. When they come back a few minutes later, Georgia holds up her coconut for me victoriously and puts the straw into my mouth so I can take a sip. “Look at Mama with her bunny hairdo and big sunglasses and tropical bikini,” Michael says. Georgia eyes me, then shrugs her shoulders. “She looks fine, I guess.” “What do you mean, she looks fine?” he continues. “You should feel proud that you have such a pretty mommy!”

• From The Pisces (2018)

  Jude. “I would strongly suggest setting a boundary with him.” “Do not send the money,” said Chickenhorse. “He’s probably a catfish!” “A what?” asked Brianne. “A catfish. Like, a scammer. Someone who pretends to be someone he isn’t.” “Oh no, he’s not a scammer. I know that he is who he says he is. We’re very close.” “How long have you known him again?” I asked. “About six days,” said Brianne. We all looked at her. “It’s been a rich and rewarding six days.” Sara looked at her quizzically over the pomegranate she was peeling. But she was in no position to judge. Having almost reached her ninety days of no contact with Stan, she had had a slip. A big one. Now not only were they in contact again but they’d been seeing each other. Stan had reached out with an apologetic one-thousand-word email declaring his love. He also sent her a bouquet of carnations. Of course, Sara was allergic to them and gave them to a neighbor, but that wasn’t the point. “He’s been staying with me for the past two days. And I know what you’re thinking! Bad idea, he’s just going to hurt me again. But this time something truly seems different. He still isn’t ready for marriage or an engagement or even to call me his girlfriend or commit to monogamy, but he’s showing up for me in a way that he never has before. He’s truly present.” “I see,” said Dr. Jude. She was wearing what looked like a pair of silk pajamas. “What do you think was the impetus for the change?” “I think he realized I was serious this time. That I wasn’t going to take him back.” “But you did take him back,” said Chickenhorse. “No, I know. I mean before that. I think he realized the gravity of his error,” she said. “Also, he lost his job at the hospital and has nowhere else to go. He’s been living in his car.” “What?” We all balked. I struggled to keep from laughing. Compared to the rest of them I was actually doing well. “I can’t forbid you from seeing him,” said Dr. Jude. “But I want you to remember the state you were in when you came in here, how much you were suffering. In my experience these sorts of relationships only get worse, never better.” “I know.” Sara sniffed. “And I know you’re all going to judge me. And Dr. Jude, I know I broke our deal. But he needs me. At the ‘Opening the Heart’ workshop they said that we can only recover from the past by coming to terms with our core truths. Well, he’s been sleeping on a mat in the resting area of the Korean spa. And I’m a compassionate person. And I want him to be with me. So that’s my core truth.”

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  I turn my attention back to Georgia to let him know he is dismissed from further inquiry. A few minutes later, Michael calls, breathless with excitement, telling me that Hudson had talked for hours about school and theatre and friends, like he had been saving it all up and it came pouring out. “I’m so glad. I hope this is a new start. Did he indicate that he would see you again?” I ask. “I walked him home and he was still talking, so he kept walking with me. It was so good to see him and hear his voice. When I first saw him, I cried. I couldn’t believe how different he looked since I last saw him. He’s changed a lot, he’s grown and his face has morphed into a more adult face. It was amazing to see him but heartbreaking to know that I’ve missed so much,” he says. “Yup,” I say, because what else is there to say? Missing almost a year of your son’s life is indeed heartbreaking. He asks if he can stop by tomorrow before my family arrives to say a quick hello to the kids and drop off some treats for them. “Yes, sure. I’m sorry that I can’t invite you for dinner. I hope we can get to that point someday, but the older kids aren’t there yet and then there’s my family, most of whom you haven’t seen since before all of this,” I taper off. I had pleaded with him in the immediate aftermath of our separation to reach out to my parents, but his avoidance of them for five months until his visit to them in the summer, caused damage that I doubt will ever be undone. The next night, after my family says their tenth goodbye and finally exits into the dark, cold night, and every roasting pan and serving platter has been dried and put away, I crawl exhausted into my bed and call #6 to say hi. We chat quietly in the dark, comparing menus and the chaos of the day, and then my bedroom door bursts open with Daisy rushing in, “Mom!” she says urgently, “I found this new curly hair product and brought some home for you to try. You’re going to love it.” “Hang on,” I whisper to #6, and then to Daisy, “Thank you so much, darling. Will you leave it next to my sink?” “Yes, but you have to smell it,” she says excitedly, walking around the bed to my side. When she gets closer and sees that I am holding the phone, she pauses, asking who I’m talking to. “A friend,” I answer, flustered. She frowns, so I continue, “A friend you don’t know.” She looks at me with alarm so I hang up without even saying goodbye to #6.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  CHAPTER 24Every Five MinutesFor months, my friends have been keeping me occupied on Saturday nights when Georgia is with Michael, taking me out to scream Alanis Morissette songs at karaoke bars or glam it up at fancy Upper East Side hotel lounges or sing show tunes around pianos at kitschy dive bars. Although I throw cash at the bill when it arrives, these friends always put the money back in my purse, saying let us do this for you, it’s all we can do, please let us. Now, it’s time for these friends to get back to their own lives and husbands and for me to start finding my way on my own on Saturday nights. I don’t want to lie to Hudson as to my whereabouts, so I brace myself to confess to him that I’m dating. Late Saturday afternoon, I pop my head into his room, where I find him lying in bed with the lights off, watching a movie on his laptop. “What are you doing tonight? Hitting the town with the ladies?” he asks. “No, they’re all busy tonight. Actually,” I say, taking a deep breath, then pausing for too long. He turns away from the screen to look at me. “Actually, I have to talk to you for a minute.” I climb up the ladder to his loft bed and perch at the edge. “Am I in trouble?” he asks. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just … oh boy, this is awkward. I’m dating. I want you to know. I have a date tonight. He lives in Long Island. So, I’m going to Long Island. On the train. For my date,” I sputter out. “OK, Mama Bear, live your life,” he says, turning his eyes back to his computer screen. I ask him to look at me and he complies, his expressive gray eyes turning up to me. “It’s time for me to get myself back out there. It doesn’t mean Dad and I are getting divorced. I just need to figure stuff out. It’s very weird for me to be dating and even weirder for me to be talking to you about it. I don’t want to sneak around and lie to you, but I also don’t want to upset you,” I say. “You do you, Mom. I want you to be happy,” he says. I choke out a thank you, knowing his words are genuine but also worrying that I am the cause of his being in this dark room in the middle of a bright day. His eyes back at the screen, I am summarily dismissed. * When I get off the train in Long Island, I see #5 waiting for me at the station, leaning against his car, eating peanuts from a red plastic cup that he filled at the firehouse. It is still light out and warm, so he drives me to a trail he likes to walk in the woods.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  CHAPTER 4Never Come Between a Man and His DogBack home a few hours later, Johnny texts to see where I want to meet. He says he doesn’t know my part of town well and do I want to suggest a place. I can’t picture him in the hipster boutique cocktail bars that our town is filled with, so I pick a local dive bar between his house and mine on a sleepy main street. I arrive a few minutes early and choose a stool in the center of the bar, away from the few other people there. I’m in a black tank top with spaghetti straps that show off my tanned shoulders, a cut-off jean mini-skirt and flip-flops. The bartender is an older woman who says “Sure, hon” when I order a Margarita and I immediately feel like a child playing grown-up. When Johnny arrives I’m already halfway through my drink, not because he’s late but because I’m so nervous. He’s wearing jeans and a striped shirt with buttons at the top and a thick gold chain; compared to his usual work uniform, he looks dressed up. When he leans over to kiss my cheek, I catch a whiff of cologne; if I hadn’t quite been sure if this was a date, the cologne has confirmed that it indeed is. We sit for a couple of hours while he nurses a beer and I do not let myself have the second drink I want because I know that I will soon have to drive the twenty minutes back home. He tells me about his long-ago divorce, the wife who cheated on him and the strained relationships he has with his grown sons. He also talks about his newfound religion and I realize his gold chain has a cross dangling from it. He quotes his pastor and I try to figure out if the church is evangelical or if he’s born-again, but I’m Jewish so this Jesus talk is pretty foreign to me. His religious beliefs are deep and sustaining, so even though I don’t share his convictions I appreciate that he is a genuine and decent person who, like me, is trying to find his way again after a battering. An empathetic listener, he acknowledges my broken heart without shying away from it. Since he knows Michael from the time he worked on our house, I find it comforting that he personally knows the players involved. When we get up to leave, I tell him I’ve already paid for my drink and we head outside. He tells me that he drove to meet me in his new pickup truck, walking over to it and opening the driver’s side door to show me the inside. “Oh, I love pickups,” I say rapturously, inhaling the new car scent as I lean into the driver’s seat. The novelty of riding in a big truck on country roads is incredibly alluring to me.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  He’s usually game for whatever I suggest as long as we are outside. We walk to a monument on the island and he explains the history of it as we sit on a stone ledge in the sun, Manhattan on one side and Long Island City on the other. He lies down and rests his head in my lap, and I am pleasantly surprised by this rare display of affection from him. When the sun starts to dim, we agree that we are starving and realize we are only a few stops away from a Thai restaurant in Queens that we’ve wanted to try. While we wait for a table, he heads to the restroom. The hostess approaches me to say that she has a table ready, but can’t seat us unless we’re both here. “No, it’s OK, we’re both here. My, um, my … he just went to the restroom, he’ll be right back,” I stammer. I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment, realizing I could have just called him my friend, that she wasn’t seeking an explanation of who we are to each other. Who are we to each other anyway? On the outside we look like a middle-aged couple who’ve been married beyond the point of anyone caring, but the novelty of being out and about with a man who is not my husband is still very real to me. When he returns a minute later, I tell the hostess, “OK, he’s back, we can sit now,” as if we have some secret understanding of who “he” is. Later that night, talking in his bed before I have to head home, I sigh and tell him, “I need to up my blow job game. I want you to know that I know, lest you think I’m unaware.” He lets out a long, soft chuckle, asking why I just said that out of the blue. “I was just thinking about it. I’m not good at giving blow jobs, I need to improve. I’m a single woman and men love blow jobs. I’m on the case,” I say earnestly. “And don’t respond. If you tell me I’m good, I’ll know you’re lying and if you tell me I’m not I’ll be insulted. So whatever you’re about to say, bite your tongue.” “Well, I was just going to say you could use your teeth a little less,” he says. “What did I just say? I don’t want feedback, I just want you to know I’m actively engaged in improving my skills. And I’m really sorry I’m not as old as you are and still have all my teeth,” I say. “Hey, while we’re talking about things we want to get better at, you know what I would find such a huge turn-on?” he asks, and I brace myself. “If you shaved all the hair from your pussy.” “All of it? 100 per cent?” I ask. “Yes, that would be so sexy,” he says.

• From How God Became King (2012)

  The natural place to go in the gospels to follow up this strand is John 10 (though the “shepherd” theme is found elsewhere, e.g., Luke 15:3–7). Any with scriptural echoes in their heads and hearts could hardly fail to pick up the resonances from this: “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus continued. “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep…. “I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep, and my own know me—just as the father knows me and I know the father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. And I have other sheep, too, which don’t belong to this sheepfold. I must bring them, too, and they will hear my voice. Then there will be one flock, and one shepherd.” (10:11, 14–16) We should remind ourselves of the setting and the sequel. The setting is at the Dedication Festival (Hanukkah), the commemoration of the cleansing of the Temple by Judas Maccabeus in 164 BC and (by implication) of his founding of a new royal dynasty as a result. The sequel is that the Judaeans, confronted with these echoes of Ezekiel, ask Jesus, “How much longer are you going to keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, say so out loud!” (John 10:24). But Jesus, of course, cannot simply give them the answer they want. Jesus is redefining the notion of messiahship around his own sense of particular vocation; we can see this elsewhere in the story, as we already noted in the exchange with Pilate, and as is apparent in 6:15, where Jesus has to escape from the crowd because they want to make him king, according to their aspirations for kingship. But the same sense of parallel tracks, of God and David being somehow fused together in this shepherd work and yet also remaining separate, is exactly focused in the extraordinary claim a few verses later: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them the life of the coming age. They will never, ever perish, and nobody can snatch them out of my hand. My father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and nobody can snatch them out of my father’s hand. I and the father are one.” (10:27–30) This is as clear a statement as we find anywhere in the four gospels. When we are watching the story of Jesus unfold, we are also watching the story of Israel’s God coming back, as he had long promised, to rescue and “shepherd” his people.