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 A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (1921)

  Though to be free from law is to obtain adoption, sonship in its full realisation is more than mere freedom from law. The significance of such freedom lies, indeed, precisely in the fact that it makes it possible that a truly filial relation and attitude of man to God shall displace the legal relation that law creates, that instead of our looking upon God as lawgiver in the spirit of bondage and fear (Rom. 8°) he becomes to us Father with whom we live in fellowship as his sons. See detached note on Ilarnp as applied to God, p. 391. 224 GALATIANS ‘O xazhe, Greek equivalent of the Aramaic ’A@@&, N2N, is a nomi- native form with vocative force. Cf. Rom. 8% Mk. 148° Mt. 11?6 Jn. 208; Bl. D. 147.3. The repetition of the idea in Aramaic and Greek form gives added solemnity to the expression, and doubtless reflects a more or less common usage of the carly church (see Mk. 143¢ Rom. 85). On the origin of this usage, see Th. s. v.’ AGG&, Ltit. ad loc., Sief. ad loc. It is quite likely that the use of the Aramaic word was derived from Jesus, being taken up into the vocabulary of Greek-speaking Christians through the medium of those who, knowing both Aramaic and Greek, in reporting in Greek the words of Jesus used this word with a sort of affectionate fondness for the very term that Jesus himself had used to express an idea of capital importance in his teaching. This is more probable than that it was taken over into the Christian vocabulary from that of the Jewish synagogue in which the idea of God as Father had so much less prominent place than in the thought and teaching of Jesus. See Bous. Rel. d. Jud. pp. 432-3, 434; Dal. WJ. p. 1092. The attachment of the Greek translation 6 ratqe to the Aramaic word would naturally take place on the passage of the term into Greek- speaking circles. 7, date ovKkeTs ef SodAOS AAXA vids: “So that thou art no longer a slave, but a son.” In the possession of the Spirit of God’s Son, assumed to be known as a fact of the experience of the readers (cf. 32), the apostle finds confirmation of the éoTé viol of v.*, as there the sonship is said to be the ground for the bestowal of the Spirit. That the emphasis of sonship is still upon the fact of freedom from bondage to law is shown in the insertion of the negative ovKére dodXos, and that those addressed were formerly in this bondage is implied in ovxére, The change from plural to singular has the effect of bringing the matter home to each individual reader; the persons desig- nated remaining, of course, unchanged.

• From A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (1921)

  al. The preponderance of evidence for Y&P w very slight. Both readings must be very ancient. y<4p is the reading of the distinctively Western authorities, and U apparently of the Alexandrian text. But which In this case diverged from the original can not be derided by genealogical evidence. The group BDFG supporting ydcp, and that supporting 81, viz., KAP al., each support readings well attested by internal evidence. Se&Introd.t p. Ixxx* The addition of 33 to the former group in this case somewhat strengthens it, and throws the balance of evidence slightly in favour of j&g. Internal evidence gives no decided ground of preference for either against the other, and the question muxt uppar< cntly be left about as it is by WHM t^P fa the text m a little more prab* ably right, Si on the margin tw almost equally well att fitted. If M Is the true reading, It is probably resumptive In force (Th. 5, ». 7; W. LIIL 7 b; Rob. p. 1185 i»ll,)f marking a return to tlir thought of the superhuman authority of the after the of v, »«. Among the Jews it WM customary to m ill the membera of a given family or tribe (Lev. 25** Kunt. i6s*}» aiui indeed all meml>er5 of the nation (l^ev* IQ« Deut, i*« a Mar, il Artu 7* Rom. 91). Papyri of the second t'fntury &. c!, nhow that membrm «f the same religious community were Sr« M. and M. Fo^, ^, t* The hidbit of the Christiana to tmll «»«<« another may have been the procluct In |»rt of both «'»l*lfr In ilir Christian the o! the relation in purely and national lines, an well as lines of ilk- reganlcd. Thus while the brethren la v.1 Jews, wfeo are here w €*/» also is** Arcordling to the li«l llti art bis bretJMrtn who <Ia C5ad*» will, mid to rows who In a» Ml. $$*4r»* Mt aj§, In Paul the of the Is lit mutually 01 to en* ft Cor. j11 fr» * 8»"» is*» a Cor. i« f » i4»* M. »), UMB «f * «;om • mm to and Qoi M not {ten I, ii 37 Sis, if, si»)j and the use of it constitutes an appeal to all those relations of affection and fellowship which Christians sustain to one another by virtue of their common faith, and membership in one body (i Cor. i2lff-)- On later Christian usage, see Harnack, Mission and Expansion of Christianity 3* I 405 /.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  cuando nos dimos cuenta que teníamos la misma cicatriz en el dorso de nuestros metacarpianos. Ahora solo somos Cole y yo. Apenas los dos. Dos cicatrices, ya no somos tres. —Quédate conmigo, ¿de acuerdo? —susurra—. Te necesito. Y por un extraño momento, veo vulnerabilidad. También lo necesité una vez, y él estuvo allí. Hemos pasado por muchas cosas, y probablemente sea mi mejor amigo. Por eso soy demasiado indulgente con él. No quiero que sufra. Y es por esa razón que permito que me convenza de esto. Realmente no quiero mudarme con mi papá y mi madrastra, y es solo hasta el final del verano. Una vez que reciba mis préstamos estudiantiles para el otoño y haya ahorrado dinero por trabajar este verano, puedo pagar mi propio apartamento nuevamente. Creo. Cole me abraza y se queda callado. Sabe que todavía estoy enojada con él por haber sido arrestado y por el daño al apartamento, pero sabe que me preocupo. Estoy comenzando a preguntarme si es una de mis fallas. Definitivamente mi debilidad. Se inclina y ahueca mi trasero, se zambulle en mi cuello y me besa. Jadeo cuando se presiona contra mí, y me río, retorciéndome en sus brazos. —¡Detente! —lo regaño en un susurro mientras miro nerviosamente a la casa de dos pisos detrás de mí—. Ya no tenemos privacidad. Sonríe. —Mi papá todavía está en el trabajo, nena. No estará en casa hasta alrededor de las cinco. Oh. Bueno, al menos eso es bueno. Miro a un lado y al otro de la calle del vecindario, viendo una casa tras otra, las cortinas abiertas y niños jugando aquí y allá. No es como en los apartamentos donde todo el mundo se entera de todo, pero realmente no importa, porque estás de forma temporal y no te quedarás lo suficiente como para que nadie piense que mereces su atención. Aquí, en un vecindario de verdad, las personas invierten su tiempo en quién vive al lado. Respiro profundamente, empapándome del olor de las parrillas y el sonido de las cortadoras de césped. Es un barrio realmente agradable. Me pregunto si esta podría ser yo algún día. ¿Encontraré un buen trabajo? ¿Tendré una buena casa? ¿Seré feliz? Cole inclina su frente hacia la mía otra vez.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Mierda, estoy envejeciendo. Al pensar en todo lo que ha pasado en mi vida donde ella no estuvo, o no era lo suficientemente mayor para recordarlo. La observo, admirando su joven piel y esperanzadores ojos. Estaba justo en la secundaria hace un año. Comemos en silencio el siguiente par de horas, absortos en una de mis películas favoritas. No tengo idea si la ha visto, pero después de un tiempo, su plato está a medio comer y olvidado sobre la mesa de café, y está sentada al otro lado del sofá, abrazándose las piernas y mirándola con interés. —Hacen que fumar se vea apetecible —comenta finalmente, mirando a Marla Singer en la pantalla. —¿Apetecible? Se aclara la garganta y se endereza. —Bueno, es como Bruce Willis —explica—. Podría verlo fumar durante días. Es como si estuviese comiendo. Comiendo un agradable, suculento… —Filete —termino por ella, comprendiéndolo. —Exacto. —Me lanza una suave sonrisa—. Lo posee totalmente. Es parte de su vestuario. —Bueno. —Suspiro, recogiendo nuestros platos—. No comiences a fumar. —Tú lo haces. Me detengo, bajando la mirada hacia ella. Solo he fumado una vez desde que se mudaron y nunca fumo en casa. Ni siquiera creo que Cole sepa que fumo. Probablemente viendo la confusión en mi rostro, aclara: —Noté la colilla de cigarro en el cenicero de afuera. Ah. Me dirijo a la cocina, rodeando la mesa de café mientras llevo los platos. —En raras ocasiones, sí. Me gusta el olor. —¿Por qué? —Se levanta del sofá, tomando las latas vacías de soda y servilletas mientras me sigue. —Simplemente me gusta. —Limpio los platos y los coloco en el lavavajillas—. Mi abuelo fumaba, así que… Parecía natural comenzar a compartir, pero de repente se siente estúpido. —¿Así que…? —insiste. Pero simplemente sacudo la cabeza, cerrando el lavavajillas y poniéndolo en marcha. —Solo me gusta el olor, es todo. —Termino bruscamente. No estoy seguro de por qué estoy teniendo problemas para hablar con ella. No hay ningún misterio. Mi abuelo era increíble, tuve una gran infancia, pero mientras más crezco, más alejado me siento del sentimiento de cuando tenía ocho años. El sentimiento de estar en algún lugar que amaba y sintiendo lo que sentía. Felicidad. Fumo cigarros de vez en cuando para transportarme allí. Aunque no es el tipo de cosas con las que me siento cómodo compartiendo. Pero es divertido lo cerca que llegué a estar de hacer eso con ella hace un momento. Puedo sentir su mirada sobre mí, y siento la incomodidad. —¿Quieres una cerveza? —pregunto, abriendo el refrigerador y sacando dos. Cualquier cosa para cambiar de tema. —Um… claro. Las abro y le entrego una Corona, finalmente encontrándome con su mirada. Con sus ojos muy jóvenes, muy azules y muy de diecinueve años de edad. Mierda. De nuevo olvidé que es menor de edad. Lo que sea. Tomo un trago y salgo de la cocina. Trabaja en un bar, ¿no es así? Estoy seguro que los clientes la han invitado a unos tragos antes.

• From The Surrender: An Erotic Memoir (2004)

  He places me on my left side, two pillows snug under my hip, raising my ass in a fetching little upward sideways arch. I rest my left cheek on the bed, turn my head, and look up to him—it’s always up with him, never down. He grabs one of the tubes of K-Y scattered about the bed. I adore the sound as the top clicks open. Looking at me, he squeezes a gob onto two of his fingers. Looking to my ass, he spreads my cheeks so deliberately I cannot believe my luck. He rubs the gel gently, firmly onto my asshole, into my asshole, rimming the entryway, smoothing the passage. There is the most wondrous look on his face as he does this, alternately gazing in my eyes and gazing to my ass. He slips a finger inside, then two, watching my face, keeping the gaze as I feel his fingers turning inside me, connecting us internally and externally, full circle. Sliding his fingers out, he squeezes more K-Y onto his fingers and rubs it smoothly along the length of his cock, hard as a rock. It’s Time. Holding his cock, he guides it toward the crack in my ass, like a canoe aiming down a narrow ravine. I feel the smooth tip, both hard and velvety on my skin. The center of my asshole, like a magnet, gravitates toward the pressure. We meet. His key to my door, his positive to my negative, his plug to my socket. And the light goes on. Center to center, he nudges, I breathe, he pushes, I release, he pulses, I open, he pushes, he pushes, I open, he plunges in, our eyes lock, and he sends me home. Sometimes he’ll then pull back, and thrust short at the entry for a while, other times he’ll slide inward, downward, slowly, slowly until he is buried in my ass with no cock to spare, only balls outside. He’ll stay there for a moment, not moving. Then he’ll pulse farther. Sometimes he will move me into a different position—on my hands and knees; or standing up while bending over, hands plastered to the wall; or on my back, feet to the ceiling; or, a favorite, legs over my head and ass to the ceiling. Whichever position I’m in, he remains above me, always looking down upon me, watching me, loving me. And he’ll usually make these shifts without pulling his dick from my ass. Totally fantastic. But whatever the angle I can feel his cock growing inside me, stronger, harder, deeper, pressing into my anxieties, my pettiness, my pride, my vanity. Like a vacuum to dust, he sucks out my lesser selves, removes my sins. One by one they are suctioned away and underneath he finds my goodness, my innocence, my four-year-old before she was hit by The Hand and got mad. This is what he was looking for. This is what he finds. This is what he gives me.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Suelto más información, esperando que diga algo y salga de aquí. —Solo pasaba por Etienne’s y recordé que no tuviste ningún pastel en tu cumpleaños —le digo, actuando con indiferencia—, o la oportunidad de celebrar realmente. Solo pensé que les podía gustar. —Tomo tres cartas nuevas de la pila cuando Dutch no puede pasarme las nuevas—. Iba de pasada de todos modos. No es gran cosa. Si no fuera gran cosa, no me habría sentido raro al respecto cuando llegué a casa. Fue estúpido comprarlo en primer lugar. Ella no es mi hija. Pero por alguna razón, al pasar por la ventana y ver el pastel de tres capas, con rosas que cubrían cada centímetro, pensé en ella. Creo que todavía estaba tratando de compensarle por actuar como un idiota el otro día. Y la otra noche mencionó apagar velas, pedir deseos… No pudo hacer eso correctamente en su cumpleaños, las donas no cuentan, así que me sentí mal aunque no fue mi culpa. Comprarlo parecía una buena idea en ese momento. Sin embargo, llevarlo a casa se sintió sentimental. Demasiado sentimental. Lo metí en el refrigerador, escondido en la caja rosa, esperando ver si el estado de ánimo me golpeaba de nuevo antes de botarlo. —Pero sí, es tuyo, así que deja que lo coma —digo finalmente, mirándola de reojo antes de volver a mirar mis cartas. —¿No ibas a decirme que estaba allí? Me encojo de hombros. —Me olvidé, supongo. La mentira no suena convincente, pero su voz emocionada me salva del calor de los ojos de todos en mí. —Bueno, en ese caso, entonces no —afirma firmemente—. No puede comerlo. Es mío. Mi corazón se calienta y no puedo evitarlo. Miro hacia arriba lentamente. Me sonríe mientras asciende el resto de las escaleras. —¡Gracias! —dice, y luego escucho la puerta abrirse y la música inundar el espacio antes de cerrarse de nuevo. Rosado. Le compré un jodido pastel rosado como si tuviera siete. Con rosas. ¿Vio el pastel? ¿Se ve como el pastel de una niña? O peor, ¿algo romántico? Tenían pasteles con globos. Tenían pasteles sencillos. Mierda, soy un idiota. Ni siquiera pensé. Tiro mis cartas, cierro los ojos y deslizo mi mano por mi cabello. —Solo un minuto, muchachos —digo, empujando mi silla hacia atrás y rodeando la mesa, hacia las escaleras. Estallan algunas risas y carcajadas detrás de mí cuando salgo del sótano y corro detrás de la chica. Sabes, no fue hace mucho tiempo que podía pensar claramente. No dudaba constantemente de cada movimiento que hacía y enumeraba todos los resultados posibles para una sola acción y cómo respondería Jordan a ella. No he estado tan confundido sobre nada en mucho tiempo. Saliendo por la puerta en la parte superior de las escaleras, escucho el estruendo de I Love Rock 'n Roll que viene del patio y el chapoteo de alguien que salta a la piscina. Le pedí a Jordan que recogiera las llaves de cualquiera que bebiera,

• From Less (2017)

  Maybe he never did. Less knows so well the pleasures of youth—danger, excitement, losing oneself in a dark club with a pill, a shot, a stranger’s mouth—and, with Robert and his friends, the pleasures of age—comfort and ease, beauty and taste, old friends and old stories and wine, whiskey, sunsets over the water. His entire life, he has alternated between the two. There is his own distant youth, that daily humiliation of rinsing out your one good shirt and putting on your one good smile, along with the daily rush of newness: new pleasures, new people, new reflections of yourself. There is Robert’s late middle age of selecting his vices as carefully as ties in a Paris shop, napping in the sunlight on an afternoon and getting up from a chair and hearing the creak of death. The city of youth, the country of age. But in between, where Less is living—that exurban existence? How has he never learned to live it? “I think you should grow a beard,” the young man murmurs later. “I think you would be very handsome.” So he does. A truth must now be told: Arthur Less is no champion in bed. Anyone would guess, seeing Bastian staring up at Less’s window each night, waiting to be buzzed in, that it is the sex that brings him. But it is not precisely the sex. The narrator must be trusted to report that Arthur Less is—technically—not a skilled lover. He possesses, first of all, none of the physical attributes; he is average in every way. A straightforwardly American man, smiling and blinking with his pale lashes. A handsome face, but otherwise ordinary. He has also, since his early youth, suffered an anxiety that leaves him sometimes too eager in the sexual act, sometimes not eager enough. Technically: bad in bed. And yet—just as a flightless bird will evolve other tactics for survival, Arthur Less has developed other traits. Like the bird, he is unaware of these. He kisses—how do I explain it? Like someone in love. Like he has nothing to lose. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can use only the present tense and only the second person. Only now, only you. There are some men who have never been kissed like that. There are some men who discover, after Arthur Less, that they never will be again.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  Brain coupling, Hasson argues, is the means by which we understand each other. He goes even further to claim that communication—a true meeting of the minds—is a single act, performed by two brains. Considering the positivity resonance of love, what I find most fascinating about these findings is that a key brain area that showed coupling in Hasson’s speaker-listener study was the insula, an area linked with conscious feeling states. Evidence for synchrony in two people’s insulae suggests that in good communication, two individuals come to feel a single, shared emotion as well, one that is distributed across their two brains. Indeed, in other work, Hasson and colleagues have shown that people’s brains come particularly into sync during emotional moments. Neural coupling, then—really understanding someone else—becomes all the more likely when you share the same emotion. Even more so than ordinary communication, a micro-moment of love is a single act, performed by two brains. Shared emotions, brain synchrony, and mutual understanding emerge together. And mutual understanding is just steps away from mutual care. Once two people understand each other—really “get” each other in any given moment—the benevolent concerns and actions of mutual care can flow forth unimpeded. As you move through your day, quite naturally you move in and out of different scenes. Each scene, of course, has its own script. For perhaps most of your day, you’re pretty much caught up in your own thoughts and plans, oblivious to the presence or feelings of anyone nearby. Your brain, in such moments, is doing its own thing. But in those rarer moments when you truly connect with someone else over positivity—by sharing a smile, a laugh, a common passion, or an engaging story—you become attuned, with genuine care and concern for the other. You empathize with what they’re going through, as your two brains sync up and act as one, as a unified team. Neural coupling like this is a biological manifestation of oneness. Laboratory studies have already shown that when positive emotions course through you, your awareness expands from your habitual focus on “me” to a more generous focus on “we.” When you’re feeling bad—afraid, anxious, or angry—even your best friend can seem pretty remote or separate from you. The same goes for when you’re feeling nothing in particular. Not so, when you’re feeling good. Under the influence of positive emotions, your sense of self actually expands to include others to greater degrees. Your best friend, in these lighthearted moments, simply seems like a bigger part of you.

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  —Bueno, no creo que sea correcto por mi parte tener que prescindir de esto todos los días —bromea con una sonrisa engreída mientras me acerca a él y me rodea con sus brazos. Suelto la lámpara y sonrío, complaciendo su alegría a pesar que me siento mal. Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que me sentí a gusto el tiempo suficiente para olvidarme del estrés que nos golpeaba en todo momento. No hemos sonreído juntos desde hace tiempo, y está empezando a no ser algo natural. Pero en este momento, tiene ese brillo infantil en sus ojos como si fuera el tornado más adorable y dijera “¿no me amas?”. Planta su frente en la mía, entrelazo mis dedos a través de su cabello rubio y miro sus ojos azul oscuro que siempre dan la impresión de que acaba de recordar que tiene un pastel entero esperando en el refrigerador. Tomando mi mano derecha en la suya, levanta ambas entre nosotros, y estrecho la suya en la mía, sabiendo lo que está haciendo. Nuestros dedos se envuelven alrededor de la mano del otro, nuestros pulgares uno al lado del otro, y sostiene mi mirada, mientras los mismos recuerdos pasan entre nosotros. Para cualquier otra persona, parece un agarre de lucha libre, pero cuando miramos hacia abajo, vemos nuestros pulgares uno al lado del otro y la pequeña cicatriz del tamaño de un guisante que ambos tenemos y compartimos solo con una persona más. Es tonto cuando le contamos a la gente la historia: El arma de balines del hermano pequeño de un amigo, que era demasiado pequeña para nuestras manos, y nos lastimamos la piel cuando tratábamos de usarla, los tres nos reímos cuando nos dimos cuenta que teníamos la misma cicatriz en el dorso de nuestros metacarpianos. Ahora solo somos Cole y yo. Apenas los dos. Dos cicatrices, ya no somos tres. —Quédate conmigo, ¿de acuerdo? —susurra—. Te necesito. Y por un extraño momento, veo vulnerabilidad. También lo necesité una vez, y él estuvo allí. Hemos pasado por muchas cosas, y probablemente sea mi mejor amigo. Por eso soy demasiado indulgente con él. No quiero que sufra. Y es por esa razón que permito que me convenza de esto. Realmente no quiero mudarme con mi papá y mi madrastra, y es solo hasta el final del verano. Una vez que reciba mis préstamos estudiantiles para el otoño y haya ahorrado dinero por trabajar este verano, puedo pagar mi propio apartamento nuevamente. Creo. Cole me abraza y se queda callado. Sabe que todavía estoy enojada con él por haber sido arrestado y por el daño al apartamento, pero sabe que me preocupo. Estoy comenzando a preguntarme si es una de mis fallas. Definitivamente mi debilidad. Se inclina y ahueca mi trasero, se zambulle en mi cuello y me besa. Jadeo cuando se presiona contra mí, y me río, retorciéndome en sus brazos.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  Within these safe environs of intimacy, love can spring up in the most unlikely moments. More than a decade ago, for instance, I was driving through my then-hometown with my husband, finding my way to a corner store I’d been to only once or twice before. Coming up on the back side of the store, I turned left into what I figured was the back entrance, planning to make my way around the parking lot to the storefront. Only it wasn’t really an entrance. It was just a short gravel road that led nowhere. I stopped the car and stared at the distant storefront. I’m sure I was only frozen like that for a matter of seconds, but my husband found it amusing. “Stuck on a gravel road?” he chided. We shared a laugh at my stunned response. I can’t tell you how many times in the years since Jeff has resurrected this phrase to gently tease me for being a bit slow to figure out an unexpected situation. Knowing me so well, he gets that surprises can make me deer-in-the-headlights stuck for a moment (or six). Yet instead of taking this recurrence as a character flaw to overlook, or as cause for annoyance or criticism, he has made it our running inside joke. Ever an alchemist, he transforms predicaments like these into micro-moments of love. Love that not only brings me swiftly back into action but also reinforces the safety of our bond. This silly example points to yet another thing that your intimates uniquely offer you: shared history. Earlier this year I took a late-night cab ride at a conference with my former office mate from graduate school, whom I’d just run into for the first time in nearly a decade. Although we’d lost touch for so long, within a matter of minutes, we were laughing uproariously in the back of that cab about old times, conjuring up our old goofy sayings and antics. In the short commute to our respective hotels we were transported back to the late 1980s as well, and to the fun times we’d had together. Wiping the tears of laughter away as we said our good-byes, we dreamed up ways we might reconnect again in the future. Your intimates offer you history, safety, trust, and openness in addition to the frequent opportunity to connect. The more trusting and open you are with someone else—and the more trusting and open that person is with you—the more points of connection each of you may find over which to share a laugh, or a common source of intrigue, serenity, or delight. What About Babies?

• From Birthday Girl (2018)

  Una ligera punzada de hambre golpea mi estómago, y me estremezco. La niña apagó una vela ayer. ¿Dejó otra ardiendo toda la noche? Podríamos tener que hablar de eso. No solo es inseguro, sino que realmente no me gusta todo lo relacionado con la aromaterapia, donde se engaña a tu cuerpo para que crea que hay magdalenas de arándanos en la casa cuando en realidad no las hay. Bajo la escalera, la casa cruje bajo mi peso, pero cuando llego al final, miro a mi alrededor, notando que las luces de la sala están encendidas y hay música suave que viene de la cocina. Al entrar, veo a Jordan sentada en la isla, en la oscuridad. Su computadora portátil está abierta frente a ella mientras que sus manos están rodeando una taza de café. Dudo por una fracción de segundo, conmocionado por lo diferente que se ve en este momento. La luz de la pantalla hace que sus ojos brillen mientras el vapor sale de la taza frente a su rostro. Luego frunce los labios y sopla, tratando de enfriar la bebida, mientras que el cabello rubio cae sobre su rostro desde el moño desordenado en la parte superior de su cabeza. La delgada pendiente de su mandíbula, las largas pestañas, la punta suave de su pequeña nariz y… mis ojos bajan antes que pueda detenerlos, y observo sus piernas perfectas, suaves y bronceadas, visibles porque todavía tiene su pantalón corto de pijama. El calor se remueve en mi estómago, y aparto la mirada, pellizcándome las cejas. No pueden ser de la misma edad. Mi hijo es un niño, y ella es… Una niña, también, supongo. Es extraño. La última vez que conocí una de sus novias, la chica llevaba un aparato de ortodoncia. Es desagradable pensar en que ahora sale con chicas que eran mi tipo en el pasado. —Buenos días —saludo mientras paso junto a ella ala Keurig1. Por el rabillo del ojo la veo levantar la cabeza. —Oh, hola. Buenos días. Su voz es suave y entrecortada, y escucho la tapa del portátil cerrarse mientras pongo una capsula en la máquina y una taza de metal debajo de la boquilla. Miro 1Marca de máquina de café. por encima de mi hombro para verla bajarse silenciosamente del taburete y recoger su computadora y cuaderno. —No tienes que irte —le digo—. Ya me voy de todos los modos. Muestra una pequeña y tensa sonrisa, pero no me mira mientras coloca sus cosas a su lado y toma su café de nuevo. —¿Llevas despierta mucho tiempo? —pregunto —Tengo el sueño ligero. —Finalmente levanta los ojos y se ríe para sí misma— . Las tormentas eléctricas son difíciles para mí.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  As you come to the end of this practice session, know that it’s completely natural for you to treat yourself kindly and wish yourself well, even though you may forget to do so quite often. Know that you can generate this tender and loving attitude toward yourself anytime you wish, just by reminding yourself that this stance exists, and how at ease it makes you feel. Sure enough, difficulties and obstacles to your happiness will still arise. Suffering happens. But now you know that you need not add to that suffering by treating yourself harshly. Indeed, you can reduce your suffering considerably at any time by reminding yourself of the ancient and ageless wishes of LKM. As your practice of LKM turns inward, toward yourself, be aware that this may also be a good time to begin (or resume) writing in a journal. Whenever possible, just after your meditation practice session, allow yourself an additional five to ten minutes to journal the stream of your consciousness. Doing so creates the time and space for you to reflect on any associations or insights that arise for you as you begin to give yourself this new kindhearted attention. What does it feel like to create these warmer, more open sentiments toward yourself? How do these sentiments make your body feel? What markers of resistance become apparent for you? What happens when you experiment with bringing your awareness—even your breath—to those areas of resistance? How do they respond? Do they tense up further? Or do they soften? Simply observe what your inner experience is like for you today. What flavors does it offer you? Are you full of feeling? Or are you numb? Brimming with energy, or worn down? Know that any of these responses are normal and just describe what you feel. See where this recognition leads you. If you find that you’d like additional structure as you begin experimenting with offering loving intention and attention to yourself, you can access the guided meditation on self-love that I’ve made available on www.PositivityResonance.com. All of the resources on this website are free for you to use and I hope you will find benefit in them. I also highly recommend that you seek out a local teacher. Nothing quite compares to having someone with more experience offer her or his own way of seeing and speaking about your journey as it unfolds. As with all teachings, adopt what resonates within you, making it your own, and leave the rest as you found it. Like everyone else, myself included, you are the keeper of the eclectic wisdom you’ve absorbed from a long succession of teachers, including those with and without that formal title. Hearing Voices “D’oh!”

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  This is the first step toward compassion. No matter who or where these others may be, no matter whether you know them, you’re connected to them through your shared experience of this difficulty. It’s only natural, when you suffer, to yearn for your distress to pass. Although this wish may already be intense, I suggest you make it larger still. Let that wish expand horizontally, to encompass both you as well as others who suffer similarly. As you do, articulate some version of the following wish to yourself: May I, together with all those who suffer [this], find peace. Experiment with self-compassion in this more encompassing manner and you coax yourself out of the narrowband focus that all but defines your own difficult passages. As your awareness expands, you become less self-absorbed, more open and attuned to the suffering of others. This broadened perspective often provides the toehold you need to reverse the downward spiral that threatens to drag you into despair or self-pity. It begins to lift you on the warm winds of an upward spiral. It also conditions your heart to become more oriented toward others, more attuned to their difficult passages. You are no longer alone. With repeated practice, you un-numb yourself. Your awareness of others’ suffering grows sharper and clearer. Indeed, whenever you become aware that the other person with whom you connect suffers, love and compassion become one and the same. Given the ubiquity of suffering in this world, the appropriateness of compassion is widespread. Even so, when you can trust simple truths like “this too shall pass” and “we’re in this together,” you won’t be overcome by the weight of others’ suffering. You’re better able to offer a steady source of comfort to the suffering person you’re with. In time, you can untether your awareness of another’s suffering from your own suffering. Knowing that you have suffered, or could suffer, similarly can be enough. This is the wisdom of sameness, of shared humanity. Let this be the foundation for your compassion. Resilience doesn’t just reside within people. It also resides within the vast web of our collective social connections. Each time you offer compassionate attention to another, you build up this resource, this resilience, not just in that very moment for that particular person, but also across your entire community, in enduring ways. Compassion’s Aim Your aim in offering compassion to others is modest. You simply offer an infusion of warmth and light, however small, into the chilly darkness that your companion is now facing. You don’t pretend to be an alchemist, magically turning his or her entire tapestry into gold.

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

  That wish was not granted. In a letter of Nov. 19, 1558,579 he gives him, while still suffering from a quartan ague, a minute account of his malady, of the remedies of the doctors, of the formidable coalition of the kings of France and Spain against Geneva, and concludes with these words: "Let us cultivate with sincerity a fraternal affection towards each other, the ties of which no wiles of the devil shall ever burst asunder .... By no slight shall my mind ever be alienated from that holy friendship and respect which I have vowed to you .... Farewell, most illustrious light and distinguished doctor of the Church. May the Lord always govern you by his Spirit, preserve you long in safety, increase your store of blessings. In your tum, diligently commend us to the protection of God, as you see us exposed to the jaws of the wolf. My colleagues and an innumerable crowd of pious men salute you." On the 19th of April, 1560, Melanchthon was delivered from "the fury of the theologians" and all his troubles. A year after his death Calvin, who had to fight the battle of faith four years longer, during the renewed fury of the eucharistic controversy with the fanatical Heshusius, addressed this touching appeal to his sainted friend in heaven: — "O Philip Melanchthon! I appeal to thee who now livest with Christ in the bosom of God, and there art waiting for us till we shall be gathered with thee to that blessed rest. A hundred times, when worn out with labors and oppressed with so many troubles, didst thou repose thy head familiarly on my breast and say, ’Would that I could die in this bosom!’ Since then I have a thousand times wished that it had been granted to us to live together; for certainly thou wouldst thus have had more courage for the inevitable contest, and been stronger to despise envy, and to count as nothing all accusations. In this manner, also, the malice of many would have been restrained who, from thy gentleness which they call weakness, gathered audacity for their attacks."580 Who, in view of this friendship which was stronger than death, can charge Calvin with want of heart and tender affection? § 91. Calvin and Sadolet. The Vindication of the Reformation. Sadoleti: Epistola ad Genevenses (Cal. Apr., i.e. March 18, 1539).—Calvini: Responsio ad Sadoletum (Sept. 1, 1539), Argentorati ap. Wendelinum Richelium excusa. In Calv. Opera, vol. V. 385–416. Calvin translated it into French, 1540 (republished at Geneva, 1860). English translation of both by Henry Beveridge in John Calvin’s Tracts relate to the Reformation, Edinburgh (Calvin Translation Society), 1844, pp. 3–68.—Beza, Vita C., Opera, XXI. 129. Henry, Vol. I. ch. XI.—Dyer, 102 sq.—Stähelin, I. 291–304.—Kampschulte, I. 354 sq. (only a brief but important notice).—Merle D’Aubigné, bk. XI. ch. XVI., and vol. VI. 570–594.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  While other professionals who attend a birth focus primarily on a safe childbirth, a doula’s aim is to “mother the mother,” continuously offering her timely information, emotional support, and physical assistance throughout that miraculous and often tumultuous journey, helping her to feel safer, and more comfortable and confident. Studies show that the continuous support that a doula provides can improve health outcomes for both the mother and the baby. More than a decade ago, Laura’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy. At that time, she had declined the recommended courses of radiation and chemotherapy, even though she was informed that without them she might live only months. Because Laura’s mom had defied medical expectations by living well year after year, Laura “never knew what to expect” and “learned to adopt an ‘in the moment’ mind-set.” She knew that especially with respect to her mother’s life expectancy, “it did little good to plan.” So when, about a dozen years after the mastectomy, she learned that her mother’s cancer had spread to her bones and was terminal, Laura continued to address her mother’s dying one moment at a time. As her mom’s physical limitations increased, Laura made a room for her in her own small apartment so that she could better care for her. Eventually, with help from her sister, hospice workers, and countless others, Laura was piecing together round-the-clock care for her dying mom. Laura had attended countless home births over the years. This was her first home death. She’d made a career out of caring for mothers while they faced difficult passages, and here she was doing the same for her very own mom, albeit for a very different kind of passage. Toward the end, her mother’s pain, confusion, and frailty intensified to the point where she’d wake up terrified, hallucinating, unsure whether she was dead or alive. To meet the challenge of caring for her mother during these difficult weeks, Laura drew on many of the same resources she used in her doula work, which she said are “hard to describe, because they don’t come from words.” A first step, she shared, is to know that “you can’t fix someone else’s pain” but can only “be fully present with it, with awareness and calm.” Laura’s caring for her mom before she died translated into sleeping at her mother’s side while holding her hand. That way, Laura could meet the first signs of her mother’s agitation with “total presence and reassurance.” Just as in her doula work, she knew it was important “not to get swept up in another person’s issues” but instead to simply “be present” and “stable in yourself” and let them know they’re “not in this alone.” This can take courage, especially when the other person is experiencing fear as well as pain. Being present in this way during the difficult transitions of labor and childbirth often calls on Laura to be bold.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  Toward the end, her mother’s pain, confusion, and frailty intensified to the point where she’d wake up terrified, hallucinating, unsure whether she was dead or alive. To meet the challenge of caring for her mother during these difficult weeks, Laura drew on many of the same resources she used in her doula work, which she said are “hard to describe, because they don’t come from words.” A first step, she shared, is to know that “you can’t fix someone else’s pain” but can only “be fully present with it, with awareness and calm.” Laura’s caring for her mom before she died translated into sleeping at her mother’s side while holding her hand. That way, Laura could meet the first signs of her mother’s agitation with “total presence and reassurance.” Just as in her doula work, she knew it was important “not to get swept up in another person’s issues” but instead to simply “be present” and “stable in yourself” and let them know they’re “not in this alone.” This can take courage, especially when the other person is experiencing fear as well as pain. Being present in this way during the difficult transitions of labor and childbirth often calls on Laura to be bold. As she put it, she may need to “get in her face,” which can mean getting down on the floor so that she can position her own face just inches from the birthing mother’s face. From this close range she gently insists, “Open your eyes and look at me. Breathe with me. I’m here with you.” She drew on similar courage in caring for her mother, often reminding her that she could “talk later, for now, just breathe with me.” Laura has found that to connect and be helpful to someone in dire emotional or physical pain requires that she “be fully present, one moment at a time, which can at times stretch into hours.” When the suffering eventually subsides, as it always does, the ensuing shared sense of calm—or in the case of childbirth—success, can be “beautiful,” even “exhilarating.” Laura’s descriptions underscore the importance of connection. True compassion, just like positivity resonance more generally, demands the physical copresence of bodies. For Laura, touch, eye contact, and “breathing together with the other” have been “huge” resources. They can be for you, too, when you wish to connect with someone who’s suffering. As Laura put it, compassion like this “doesn’t come from words.” It comes instead from being physically and emotionally present, concerned and grounded. That’s the stance from which you can most readily turn toward pain, rather than away from it, while offering up one more gilded strand for the other to weave into the dark tapestry of the trying time they now face. When compassion flowers, you’re not simply giving of yourself to another, you are also stretching open your own heart. A positivity resonance emerges that changes you both. Try This Meditation Practice: Compassionate Love

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  Indeed, scientists from Darwin to Ekman suggest tenderness like this honors familial bonds. Yet by now I hope you’re recognizing that your potential for micro-moments of love is far greater. Each time you encounter another—or yourself—you have the opportunity to do so with tenderness and warmth, and with relaxed openness and goodwill. The goal of this chapter, and indeed part II of this book, is to provide specific tools for expanding the circle of those with whom you share the warmth and tenderness of love. Preparatory Practices As you read through part II, you’ll notice that most of the practices that I recommend to seed love are solo activities. They are activities you can undertake completely on your own, just by redirecting your attention, or taking time for self-reflection, or meditation. How can these practices work, you may wonder, if love is only experienced in connection with others? Why not dive right into interventions that alter how you interact with others, such as that you smile, nod, or lean in toward them more often, or mirror their gestures? Two reasons, actually. The first concerns sincerity. I suspect you’ve encountered people who, in the course of doing their jobs, have been told to “smile at the customers” or “act cheerfully.” While they (and their superiors) may have the best intentions, what emerges on these workers’ faces and in their gestures from following these decrees often feels distinctly forced, or “put on.” Your gut tells you that they don’t really mean it, that they don’t truly care about you, personally. It’s easy to become cynical about such gestures. You wonder, what are they trying to sell me? Your suspicion puts you on guard, bracing to avoid any unwanted influence. Studies have indeed documented clear differences between genuinely heartfelt smiles and the so-called social or unfelt smiles that these workers put on like a uniform. Beyond the fact that genuine smiles uniquely activate the cheek-raising muscles that create (or deepen) crow’s feet at the corners of people’s eyes, genuine smiles also differ in timing from forced or insincere smiles. Sincere smiles tend to arise and then fade away in the span of a few seconds. Insincere smiles, by contrast, are either flashed more quickly, in less than a second, or worn for longer durations, like makeup or a mask. Basically, you, like most people, are not altogether good at putting on a smile in the absence of genuine positive feeling. You are, however, exceptionally good at detecting insincere smiles in others, especially (as discussed in chapter 2) when making eye contact. So one reason to begin with love-seeding activities on your own, rather than in social interactions proper, is to avoid the predictable boomerang effect of trying too hard to adjust your nonverbal actions. To be successful, you’ll need to cultivate genuinely positive social sentiments from the inside out.

• From Love 2.0: Finding Happiness and Health in Moments of Connection (2013)

  Neural coupling like this is a biological manifestation of oneness. Laboratory studies have already shown that when positive emotions course through you, your awareness expands from your habitual focus on “me” to a more generous focus on “we.” When you’re feeling bad—afraid, anxious, or angry—even your best friend can seem pretty remote or separate from you. The same goes for when you’re feeling nothing in particular. Not so, when you’re feeling good. Under the influence of positive emotions, your sense of self actually expands to include others to greater degrees. Your best friend, in these lighthearted moments, simply seems like a bigger part of you. Hasson’s work suggests that when you share your positive emotions with others, when you experience positivity resonance together with this sense of expansion, it’s also deeply physical, evident in your brain. The emotional understanding of true empathy recruits coinciding brain activity in both you and the person of your focus. Another telling brain imaging study, this one conducted by scientists in Taipei, Taiwan, illustrates self-other overlap at the neuronal level. Imagine for a moment being a participant in this study. While you are in the fMRI brain scanner, the researchers show you a number of short, animated scenes and ask you to picture yourself in these scenes. Some of these scenes depict painful events, like dropping something heavy on your toe or getting your fingers pinched in a closing door. What the brain images show is that, compared to imagining neutral, nonpainful situations, imagining yourself in these painful situations lights up the well-known network of brain areas associated with pain processing, including the insula, that area linked with conscious feeling states. When you are later asked to imagine these same painful events happening to a loved one—your spouse, your best friend, or your child, for instance—these same brain areas light up. By and large, then, your loved one’s pain is your pain. By contrast, when you imagine these painful events happening to complete strangers, a different pattern of activation emerges altogether, one that shows little activation in the insula and more activation in areas linked with distinguishing and distancing yourself from others, and actively inhibiting or regulating emotions, as if to prevent their pain from becoming your pain. At the level of brain activity during imagined pain, you and your beloved are virtually indistinguishable. Whereas the Taipei research team defined love to be a lasting loving relationship (what, for clarity’s sake, I call a bond), the work from Hasson’s team at Princeton tells me that neural synchrony and overlap can also unfold between you and a complete stranger—if you let it. Positivity resonance between brains, as it turns out, requires only connection, not the intimacy or shared history that comes with a special bond.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  There would be such a fuss and stir they could not possibly, I thought, miss me - but I knew that Kitty would if I left her for them; and I knew, besides, that I should miss her horribly and only make the occasion miserable for everybody else. So she and I spent it together - with Walter, as ever, in attendance - at Mrs Dendy’s table, eating goose, and drinking toast after toast to the coming year with champagne and pale ale. Of course, there were gifts: presents from home, which Mother forwarded with a stiff little note that I refused to let shame me; presents from Walter (a brooch for Kitty, a hat-pin for me). I sent parcels to Whitstable, and gave gifts at Ma Dendy’s; and for Kitty I bought the loveliest thing that I could find: a pearl - a single flawless pearl that was mounted on silver and hung from a chain. It cost ten times as much as I had ever spent on any gift before, and I trembled when I handled it. Mrs Dendy, when I showed it to her, gave a frown. ‘Pearls for tears,’ she said, and shook her head: she was very superstitious. Kitty, however, thought it beautiful, and had me fasten it about her neck at once, and seized a mirror to watch it swinging there, an inch beneath the hollow of her lovely throat. ‘I’ll never take it off,’ she said; and she never did, but wore it ever after - even on the stage, beneath her neck-ties and cravats. She, of course, bought me a gift. It came in a box with a bow, and wrapped in tissue, and turned out to be a dress: the most handsome dress I had ever possessed, a long, slim evening dress of deepest blue, with a cream satin sash about the waist, and heavy lace at the bosom and hem; a dress, I knew, that was far too fine for me. When I drew it from its wrappings and held it up against me before the glass, I shook my head, quite stricken. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said to Kitty, ‘but how can I keep it? It’s far too smart. You must take it back, Kitty. It’s too expensive.’ But Kitty, who had watched me handle it with dark and shining eyes, only laughed to see me so uneasy. ‘Rubbish!’ she said. ‘It’s about time you started wearing some decent frocks, instead of those awful old schoolgirlish things you brought with you from home. I have a decent wardrobe - and so should you. Goodness knows we can afford it.

• From Tipping the Velvet (1998)

  Father handed out the oysters, and Mother offered beer or lemonade. Kitty picked up a shell with one hand and her oyster-knife with the other, and brought them together rather ineffectually. Father saw, and gave a shout. ‘Ho, there, Miss Butler, where are our manners! Davy, you take that knife and show the lady how - else she might just job the blade into her hand, and give herself a nasty cut.’ ‘I can do it,’ I said quickly; and I took the oyster from her, and the knife, before my brother could get his fingers on them. ‘You do it like this,’ I said to her. ‘You must hold the oyster in your palm so that the flat shell is uppermost - like this.’ I held the shell to show her, and she gazed at it rather gravely. ‘Then you must take your blade and put it - not between the halves, but in the hinge, here. And then you must grasp it, and prise.’ I gave the knife a gentle twist, and the shell eased open. ‘You must hold it steady,’ I went on, ‘because the shell is full of liquor, and you mustn’t spill a drop of it, for that’s the tastiest part.’ The little fish sat in my palm in its bath of oyster-juice, naked and slippery. ‘This here,’ I said, pointing with my knife, ‘is called the beard; you must trim that away.’ I gave the blade a flick, and the beard was severed. ‘Then you must just cut your oyster free ... And now you may eat it.’ I slipped the shell carefully into her hand, and felt her fingers warm and soft against my own as she cupped them to receive it. Our heads were very near. She raised the oyster to her lips and held it for a second before her mouth, her eyes on mine, unblinking. I had not been aware of it, but I had spoken softly, and the others had quietened to listen. Now the table was hushed and still. When I took my eyes from Kitty’s I saw a ring of faces turned my way, and blushed. At last, someone spoke. It was Father, and his voice was very loud. ‘No bolting him down whole now, Miss Butler,’ he said, ‘like the gormays do. We won’t have that at this table. You go on and give him a real good chew.’ He said it kindly, and Kitty laughed. She peered into the shell in her hand. ‘And is it really alive?’ she said. ‘Alive alive-oh,’ said Davy. ‘If you listen very hard, you will hear him shrieking as he goes down.’ There were protests at that from Rhoda and Alice. ‘You will make the poor girl sick,’ said Mother. ‘Don’t you mind him, Miss Butler. You just eat your fish, and enjoy it.’