So, why does good sex so often fade, even for couples who continue to love each other as much as ever? And why does good intimacy not guarantee good sex, contrary to popular belief? Or, the next question would be, can we want what we already have? That's the million-dollar question, right? And why is the forbidden so erotic? What is it about transgression that makes desire so potent? And why does sex make babies, and babies spell erotic disaster in couples?
Dakle, zašto dobar seks tako često blijedi, čak i kod parova koji se i danas vole kao nekad? I zašto fina intimnost ne jamči dobar seks, suprotno popularnom uvjerenju? Ili, sljedeće bi pitanje bilo, možemo li žudjeti za nečime što već imamo? To je pitanje za milijun dolara, zar ne? I zašto je zabranjeno toliko erotično? Zašto prijestup potiče žudnju? I zašto seks rezultira djecom, a djeca su katastrofa za žudnju u braku?
(Laughter)
To je svojevrstan fatalni udarac na erotičnost, zar ne?
It's kind of the fatal erotic blow, isn't it? And when you love, how does it feel? And when you desire, how is it different?
Kad volite, kako se osjećate ? A kad osjećate žudnju, po čemu je to drugačije?
These are some of the questions that are at the center of my exploration on the nature of erotic desire and its concomitant dilemmas in modern love. So I travel the globe, and what I'm noticing is that everywhere where romanticism has entered, there seems to be a crisis of desire. A crisis of desire, as in owning the wanting -- desire as an expression of our individuality, of our free choice, of our preferences, of our identity -- desire that has become a central concept as part of modern love and individualistic societies.
To su neka od najvažnijih pitanja mojih istraživanja o prirodi erotske žudnje i dilemama koje ju prate u suvremenom ljubavnom životu. Putujem svijetom, i primjećujem da, gdje god se pojavi romantika, čini se da je ugrožena žudnja. Kriza žudnje, kao osobnog osjećaja želje -- žudnje kao izričaja naše osobnosti, naše slobode izbora, našeg identiteta, žudnje koja je postala središnjim pojmom suvremenog ljubavnog života i individualističkog društva.
You know, this is the first time in the history of humankind where we are trying to experience sexuality in the long term not because we want 14 children, for which we need to have even more because many of them won't make it, and not because it is exclusively a woman's marital duty. This is the first time that we want sex over time about pleasure and connection that is rooted in desire.
Znate, ovo je prvi put u ljudskoj povijesti da želimo iskusiti seksualnost kroz dugo razdoblje ne zato što želimo 14-ero djece, koje trebamo jer mnogi od njih neće preživjeti, i ne zato što je to ženina bračna obveza,. Ovo je prvi put da želimo seks na duge staze zbog užitka i povezanosti koji su ukorijenjeni u žudnji.
So what sustains desire, and why is it so difficult? And at the heart of sustaining desire in a committed relationship, I think, is the reconciliation of two fundamental human needs. On the one hand, our need for security, for predictability, for safety, for dependability, for reliability, for permanence. All these anchoring, grounding experiences of our lives that we call home. But we also have an equally strong need -- men and women -- for adventure, for novelty, for mystery, for risk, for danger, for the unknown, for the unexpected, surprise -- you get the gist. For journey, for travel.
Što održava žudnju živom i zašto je to tako teško? Mislim da je bit održavanja žudnje u predanoj vezi, u pomirenju dviju temeljnih ljudskih potreba. S jedne strane želimo sigurnost, predvidljivost, sigurnost, zavisnost, pouzdanost, trajnost --- sva ona temeljna iskustva našeg života koja zovemo domom. Ali imamo jednako jaku potrebu -- i muškarci i žene -- za avanturom, novinama, rizikom, tajanstvenošću, opasnošću, za nepoznatim, neočekivanim, za iznenađenjem -- shvaćate -- za putovanjem.
So reconciling our need for security and our need for adventure into one relationship, or what we today like to call a passionate marriage, used to be a contradiction in terms. Marriage was an economic institution in which you were given a partnership for life in terms of children and social status and succession and companionship. But now we want our partner to still give us all these things, but in addition I want you to be my best friend and my trusted confidant and my passionate lover to boot, and we live twice as long.
Dakle, pokušaj da svoju potrebu za sigurnošću objedinimo s potrebom za avanturom u jednoj romantičnoj vezi, odnosno ono što danas nazivamo strasnim brakom, nekad su bili suprotni pojmovi. Brak je bio ekonomska institucija koja vam je dala doživotno partnerstvo u obliku djece, društvenog položaja, prava nasljeđivanja i zajedništva. Danas od svog partnera još uvijek želimo sve to, ali još želim da mi budeš i najbolji prijatelj i osoba kojoj se mogu povjeriti i strastveni ljubavnik, a još živimo i dvostruko duže.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
So we come to one person, and we basically are asking them to give us what once an entire village used to provide. Give me belonging, give me identity, give me continuity, but give me transcendence and mystery and awe all in one. Give me comfort, give me edge. Give me novelty, give me familiarity. Give me predictability, give me surprise. And we think it's a given, and toys and lingerie are going to save us with that.
Od jedne osobe, zapravo, tražimo ono što nam je nekad davalo cijelo selo: daj mi osjećaj pripadnosti, identitet, trajnost, ali daj mi i transcedenciju i zagonetnost i zadivljenost, sve u jednom. Utješi me, uzbudi me. Daj mi nešto novo, daj mi nešto poznato. Budi predvidljiv, iznenadi me. I mislimo da je to naprosto tako, da nam u tome mogu pomoći igračke i ženstveno rublje.
(Laughter)
(Pljesak)
(Applause)
Sad dolazimo do sušte stvarnosti ove priče, zar ne?
So now we get to the existential reality of the story, right? Because I think, in some way -- and I'll come back to that -- but the crisis of desire is often a crisis of the imagination.
Ja vjerujem da je na neki način -- a vratit ću se još na to -- kriza žudnje često kriza mašte.
So why does good sex so often fade? What is the relationship between love and desire? How do they relate, and how do they conflict? Because therein lies the mystery of eroticism.
No, dakle, zašto dobar seks često blijedi? Kakav je odnos između ljubavi i žudnje? Kako su povezane, a kako se razlikuju? Jer u tome je tajna erotičnosti.
So if there is a verb, for me, that comes with love, it's "to have." And if there is a verb that comes with desire, it is "to want." In love, we want to have, we want to know the beloved. We want to minimize the distance. We want to contract that gap. We want to neutralize the tensions. We want closeness. But in desire, we tend to not really want to go back to the places we've already gone. Forgone conclusion does not keep our interest. In desire, we want an Other, somebody on the other side that we can go visit, that we can go spend some time with, that we can go see what goes on in their red-light district. You know? In desire, we want a bridge to cross. Or in other words, I sometimes say, fire needs air. Desire needs space. And when it's said like that, it's often quite abstract.
Ako postoji glagol koji ide uz "ljubav", za mene je to "imati". A ako postoji glagol uz "žudnju", onda je to "željeti". U ljubavi, želimo imati, želimo poznavati ljubljenog. Želimo smanjiti međusobnu udaljenost, stisnuti razmak. Želimo neutralizirati napetosti. Želimo bliskost. Ali u žudnji nastojimo da baš ne idemo opet na ista mjesta na kojima smo već bili. Poznati zaključci nisu nam više zanimljivi, ne zaokupljaju našu pažnju. U žudnji želimo Drugog, nekoga na drugoj strani koga možemo posjetiti, s kime možemo provesti neko vrijeme, da vidimo što se događa u njihovoj "crvenoj četvrti". U žudnji, tražimo most koji ćemo prijeći. Ili, drugim riječima, ja ponekad kažem: vatri treba zrak. Žudnja treba prostor. Kad se to tako kaže, često to zvuči apstraktno.
But then I took a question with me. And I've gone to more than 20 countries in the last few years with "Mating in Captivity," and I asked people, when do you find yourself most drawn to your partner? Not attracted sexually, per Se, but most drawn. And across culture, across religion, and across gender -- except for one -- there are a few answers that just keep coming back.
Zato sam na put krenula s pitanjem . U posljednjih nekoliko godina bila sam u više od 20 zemalja s knjigom "Parenje u zarobljeništvu" i pitala sam ljude: U kojim situacijama osjećate da vas vaš partner najviše privlači? Ne mora to nužno biti seksualno, ali da vas jako privlači. I bez obzira na kulturu, religiju, spol -- osim u jednom slučaju -- nekoliko se odgovora neprekidno ponavlja.
So the first group is: I am most drawn to my partner when she is away, when we are apart, when we reunite. Basically, when I get back in touch with my ability to imagine myself with my partner, when my imagination comes back in the picture, and when I can root it in absence and in longing, which is a major component of desire.
Prva je grupa: Partnerica me najviše privlači kad je na putu, kad smo odvojeni, kad se ponovno sretnemo. Zapravo, kad ponovno oživim svoju sposobnost da se zamislim s partnerom, kad moja mašta proradi, i proizlazi iz odsutnosti i čežnje, koja je glavni sastojak žudnje.
But then the second group is even more interesting. I am most drawn to my partner when I see him in the studio, when she is onstage, when he is in his element, when she's doing something she's passionate about, when I see him at a party and other people are really drawn to him, when I see her hold court. Basically, when I look at my partner radiant and confident. Probably the biggest turn-on across the board. Radiant, as in self-sustaining. I look at this person -- by the way, in desire people rarely talk about it, when we are blended into one, five centimeters from each other. I don't know in inches how much that is.
No, druga je grupa još zanimljivija: Moj me partner najviše privlači kad ga vidim u studiju, na pozornici, kad je u svom elementu, kad radi nešto sa strašću, kad ga vidim na zabavi kako plijeni pažnju drugih ljudi, kad je gledam kako vlada situacijom. Promatranje partnera kako zrači samopouzdanjem vjerojatno pruža najveće od svih uzbuđenja. Zrači, u smislu samodostatnosti. Gledam tu osobu -- inače, u žudnji ljudi rijetko o tome govore, kad se stopimo u jedno, pet centimetara jedno od drugoga. Ne znam koliko je to u inčima. Ali to nije ni onda kad je ta osoba toliko daleko
But it's also not when the other person is that far apart that you no longer see them. It's when I'm looking at my partner from a comfortable distance, where this person that is already so familiar, so known, is momentarily once again somewhat mysterious, somewhat elusive. And in this space between me and the other lies the erotic élan, lies that movement toward the other. Because sometimes, as Proust says, mystery is not about traveling to new places, but it's about looking with new eyes. And so, when I see my partner on his own or her own, doing something in which they are enveloped, I look at this person and I momentarily get a shift in perception, and I stay open to the mysteries that are living right next to me.
da je više ne vidite. To se događa kad svog partnera gledam s ugodne udaljenosti, kad je ta osoba koja mi je već toliko poznata, odjednom u trenutku ponovno tajnovita, pomalo nedohvatljiva. I upravo u tom prostoru između mene i drugog nalazi se erotski elan, nalazi se kretnja prema onom drugom. Jer ponekad, kako to kaže Proust, čarolija nije u putovanju u nove krajeve, nego u novom pogledu na poznate stvari. I zato, kad vidim svog partnera samostalnog, kako radi nešto čime je potpuno obuzet ili obuzeta , gledam tu osobu i u trenutku dobivam pogled iz druge perspektive i otvaram se tajnama koje žive tu, pored mene.
And then, more importantly, in this description about the other or myself -- it's the same -- what is most interesting is that there is no neediness in desire. Nobody needs anybody. There is no caretaking in desire. Caretaking is mightily loving. It's a powerful anti-aphrodisiac.
I onda, još važnije, u tom opisivanju drugoga ili sebe -- jer to je isto -- najzanimljivije je to da u žudnji nema potrebe. Nitko nikoga ne treba. Nema brižnosti u žudnji. Brižnost je moćna ljubav. Ona je snažan anti-afrodizijak.
(Laughter)
I have yet to see somebody who is so turned on by somebody who needs them. Wanting them is one thing. Needing them is a shot down and women have known that forever, because anything that will bring up parenthood will usually decrease the erotic charge.
Još nisam srela nekog tko je uzbuđen nekime tko ga treba. Željeti ga je jedna stvar. Ali potreba je hladan tuš, a to je ženama oduvijek poznato, jer svako spominjanje roditeljstva u pravilu će smanjiti erotski naboj.
(Laughter)
S razlogom, zar ne?
For good reasons, right?
And then the third group of answers usually would be: when I'm surprised, when we laugh together, as somebody said to me in the office today, when he's in his tux, so I said, you know, it's either the tux or the cowboy boots. But basically it's when there is novelty. But novelty isn't about new positions. It isn't a repertoire of techniques. Novelty is, what parts of you do you bring out? What parts of you are just being seen?
Treća skupina odgovora glasi: Kad sam iznenađena, kad se smijemo zajedno, kao što mi je netko u uredu danas rekao, kad je u smokingu, na što sam odgovorila: ili je smoking ili su kaubojske čizme. No u osnovi, to je onda kad postoji nešto novo. Ali ne radi se o novim seksualnim pozama. Ne radi se o repertoaru tehnika. Novost je: Koji dio sebe prikazujete? Koji se dio vas upravo sad može vidjeti?
Because in some way one could say sex isn't something you do, eh? Sex is a place you go. It's a space you enter inside yourself and with another, or others. So where do you go in sex? What parts of you do you connect to? What do you seek to express there? Is it a place for transcendence and spiritual union? Is it a place for naughtiness and is it a place to be safely aggressive? Is it a place where you can finally surrender and not have to take responsibility for everything? Is it a place where you can express your infantile wishes? What comes out there? It's a language. It isn't just a behavior. And it's the poetic of that language that I'm interested in, which is why I began to explore this concept of erotic intelligence.
Jer, na neki se način može reći: Seks nije nešto što radiš, zar ne? Seks je mjesto na koje ideš. To je prostor u koji ulaziš u sebi i s drugim, ili drugima. Kamo vi idete u seksu? S kojim se dijelovima sebe povezujete? Što ondje želite izraziti? Je li to mjesto za transcedenciju i duhovno ujedinjenje? Je li to mjesto za nestašnost i mjesto gdje na siguran način možete biti agresivni? Je li to mjesto na kojem se napokon možeš predati bez preuzimanja odgovornosti za sve? Je li to mjesto gdje možeš izraziti svoje djetinjaste želje? Što se ondje ispoljava? To je jezik. To nije samo ponašanje. Mene zanima poetičnost tog jezika. Zbog toga sam počela istraživati koncept erotske inteligencije.
You know, animals have sex. It's the pivot, it's biology, it's the natural instinct. We are the only ones who have an erotic life, which means that it's sexuality transformed by the human imagination. We are the only ones who can make love for hours, have a blissful time, multiple orgasms, and touch nobody, just because we can imagine it. We can hint at it. We don't even have to do it. We can experience that powerful thing called anticipation, which is a mortar to desire. The ability to imagine it, as if it's happening, to experience it as if it's happening, while nothing is happening and everything is happening, at the same time.
Znate, životinje imaju seks. Oko toga se sve vrti, to je biologija, to je prirodni instinkt. Mi smo jedini koji imamo erotski život, To znači da ljudska mašta preobražava seksualnost. Mi smo jedini koji satima možemo voditi ljubav, osjećati se blaženo, doživljavati višestruke orgazme, a da nikog ne dodirnemo, jer sve to samo zamišljamo. Dovoljno je naslućivati. Ne moramo to uopće raditi. Možemo iskusiti onu snažnu stvar koja se zove iščekivanje, ona je građevni element žudnje, sposobnost da zamislimo nešto, kao da se stvarno događa, da doživimo nešto kao da se stvarno događa, dok se u isto vrijeme i ništa ne događa, i sve se događa.
So when I began to think about eroticism, I began to think about the poetics of sex. And if I look at it as an intelligence, then it's something that you cultivate. What are the ingredients? Imagination, playfulness, novelty, curiosity, mystery. But the central agent is really that piece called the imagination.
Zato kad sam počela razmišljati o eroticizmu, počela sam razmišljati o poetičnosti seksa, pa ako na to gledam kao na inteligenciju, onda je to nešto što razvijate. Koji su sastojci? Mašta, zaigranost, novine, znatiželja, tajanstvenost, No, središnji je dio onaj koji nazivamo maštovitost.
But more importantly, for me to begin to understand who are the couples who have an erotic spark, what sustains desire, I had to go back to the original definition of eroticism, the mystical definition, and I went through it through a bifurcation by looking, actually, at trauma, which is the other side. And I looked at it, looking at the community that I had grown up in, which was a community in Belgium, all Holocaust survivors, and in my community, there were two groups: those who didn't die, and those who came back to life. And those who didn't die lived often very tethered to the ground, could not experience pleasure, could not trust, because when you're vigilant, worried, anxious, and insecure, you can't lift your head to go and take off in space and be playful and safe and imaginative. Those who came back to life were those who understood the erotic as an antidote to death. They knew how to keep themselves alive. And when I began to listen to the sexlessness of the couples that I work with, I sometimes would hear people say, "I want more sex," but generally, people want better sex, and better is to reconnect with that quality of aliveness, of vibrancy, of renewal, of vitality, of Eros, of energy that sex used to afford them, or that they've hoped it would afford them.
No, još važnije, da bih počela uviđati koji su to parovi koji imaju iskru erotike, što to održava žudnju, morala sam se vratiti izvornoj definiciji eroticizma, mističnoj definiciji, i to sam napravila kroz razdvajanje, kroz promatranje traume, koja je njeno naličje. Promatrala sam zajednicu u kojoj sam odrastala, zajednicu u Belgiji, u kojoj su svi preživjeli Holokaust, i u toj su zajednici bile dvije grupe ljudi: oni koji nisu umrli i oni koji su se ponovno rodili. Oni koji nisu umrli često su živjeli čvrsto prizemljeni, nisu mogli doživjeti užitak, povjerenje, jer kad ste na oprezu, zabrinuti, napeti i nesigurni, ne možete podići glavu i poletjeti u slobodan prostor, biti zaigrani, sigurni i maštoviti. Oni koji su se ponovno rodili bili su oni koji su doživljavali erotičnost kao protuotrov smrti. Znali su kako da se održe živima. Kad su mi parovi s kojima sam radila govorili o nedostatku seksa ponekad bih čula ljude da kažu: "Želim više seksa", ali ljudi uglavnom žele bolji seks, a "bolje" znači ponovno se povezati s onom kvalitetom životnosti, živosti, obnove, živahnosti, erosa, energije koje im je seks nekad donosio, ili koje su se nadali da će im seks donijeti.
And so I began to ask a different question. "I shut myself off when ..." began to be the question. "I turn off my desires when ..." Which is not the same question as, "What turns me off is ..." and "You turn me off when ..." And people began to say, "I turn myself off when I feel dead inside, when I don't like my body, when I feel old, when I haven't had time for myself, when I haven't had a chance to even check in with you, when I don't perform well at work, when I feel low self esteem, when I don't have a sense of self-worth, when I don't feel like I have a right to want, to take, to receive pleasure."
Onda sam počela postavljati drugačije pitanje. Pitanje je počelo s: "Isključim se kad ..." "Svoju žudnju isključim kad ..." nije isto pitanje kao "Moju žudnju gasi ..." ili "Ti me gasiš kad ..." Pa su ljudi počinjali govoriti; "Ugasim se kad se osjećam mrtvim iznutra, kad ne volim svoje tijelo, kad se osjećam starim, kad nemam vremena za sebe, kad nemam vremena da vidim što se događa s tobom, kad nisam uspješan na poslu, kad nemam samopoštovanja, kad imam osjećaj da ništa ne vrijedim, kad imam osjećaj da nemam pravo željeti, uzimati, dobivati užitak."
And then I began to ask the reverse question. "I turn myself on when ..." Because most of the time, people like to ask the question, "You turn me on, what turns me on," and I'm out of the question, you know? Now, if you are dead inside, the other person can do a lot of things for Valentine's. It won't make a dent. There is nobody at the reception desk.
A onda sam počela postavljati obrnuto pitanje. "Uzbudim se kad ...", jer najčešće ljudi vole pitati: "Ti me uzbuđuješ kad ..." pa iz pitanja nestaje "JA". Razumijete? Jer, ako ste iznutra mrtvi, onaj drugi može za Valentinovo učiniti bilo što, ali to neće promijeniti baš ništa. Jer nema nikog na recepciji. (Smijeh)
(Laughter)
So I turn myself on when, I turn on my desires, I wake up when ...
Dakle, uzbudim se kad, aktiviram svoju žudnju, probudim se kad...
Now, in this paradox between love and desire, what seems to be so puzzling is that the very ingredients that nurture love -- mutuality, reciprocity, protection, worry, responsibility for the other -- are sometimes the very ingredients that stifle desire. Because desire comes with a host of feelings that are not always such favorites of love: jealousy, possessiveness, aggression, power, dominance, naughtiness, mischief. Basically most of us will get turned on at night by the very same things that we will demonstrate against during the day. You know, the erotic mind is not very politically correct. If everybody was fantasizing on a bed of roses, we wouldn't be having such interesting talks about this.
No, postoji paradoks između ljubavi i žudnje. Zbunjuje činjenica da isti sastojci koji hrane ljubav -- uzajamnost, recipročnost, zaštita, brižnost, odgovornost za drugoga -- ponekad su isti oni sastojci koji guše žudnju. Jer žudnja često dolazi s pregršt osjećaja koji nisu uvijek miljenici ljubavi: ljubomora, posesivnost, agresivnost, moć, dominacija, zločestoća, nestašnost. U osnovi, većinu nas noću će uzbuditi iste one stvari protiv kojih ćemo se buniti danju. Erotičan mozak baš i nije politički korektan. Kad bismo svi maštali o krevetu prekrivenom ružinim laticama ne bismo imali toliko zanimljivih razgovora o ovoj temi.
(Laughter)
Ali ne, u našem umu
But no, in our mind up there are a host of things going on that we don't always know how to bring to the person that we love, because we think love comes with selflessness and in fact desire comes with a certain amount of selfishness in the best sense of the word: the ability to stay connected to one's self in the presence of another.
događa se pregršt stvari za koje ni ne znamo kako da ih kažemo osobi koju volimo, jer mislimo da je ljubav nesebična, ali žudnja zapravo dolazi s određenom dozom sebičnosti, u najboljem smislu te riječi: sposobnost da ostanemo povezani sa svojom biti u prisustvu drugih ljudi.
So I want to draw that little image for you, because this need to reconcile these two sets of needs, we are born with that. Our need for connection, our need for separateness, or our need for security and adventure, or our need for togetherness and for autonomy, and if you think about the little kid who sits on your lap and who is cozily nested here and very secure and comfortable, and at some point all of us need to go out into the world to discover and to explore. That's the beginning of desire, that exploratory need, curiosity, discovery. And then at some point they turn around and they look at you. And if you tell them, "Hey kiddo, the world's a great place. Go for it. There's so much fun out there," then they can turn away and they can experience connection and separateness at the same time. They can go off in their imagination, off in their body, off in their playfulness, all the while knowing that there's somebody when they come back.
Sad bih vam htjela pokazati na primjeru, jer mi se rađamo s težnjom da pomirimo te dvije grupe potreba, potrebu za povezivanjem, potrebu za odvojenošću, odnosno potrebu za sigurnošću i potrebu za avanturom, potrebu za zajedništvom i za samostalnošću. Ako zamislite dijete koje vam sjedi u krilu, koje se udobno smjestilo, vrlo sigurno i udobno, i onda u jednom trenutku svatko od nas ima potrebu otići u svijet, otkrivati i istraživati. To je početak žudnje, istraživanje treba znatiželju, otkrića, I onda se ta djeca u jednom trenutku okrenu prema vama, i ako im kažete: "Hej, klinci, svijet je super mjesto. Krenite. Čeka vas toliko zabave", oni mogu otići i istovremeno Iskusiti i povezanost i odvojenost. Mogu otići iživjeti maštu, tjelesnost, zaigranost, cijelo vrijeme znajući da ih netko čeka kad se vrate.
But if on this side there is somebody who says, "I'm worried. I'm anxious. I'm depressed. My partner hasn't taken care of me in so long. What's so good out there? Don't we have everything you need together, you and I?" then there are a few little reactions that all of us can pretty much recognize. Some of us will come back, came back a long time ago, and that little child who comes back is the child who will forgo a part of himself in order not to lose the other. I will lose my freedom in order not to lose connection. And I will learn to love in a certain way that will become burdened with extra worry and extra responsibility and extra protection, and I won't know how to leave you in order to go play, in order to go experience pleasure, in order to discover, to enter inside myself.
No, ako je s ove strane netko tko kaže: "Ja sam zabrinut. Ja sam napet. Ja sam deprimiran. Moj se partner već dugo ne brine za mene. Što je tako važno negdje drugdje? Zar nemamo sve što nam treba ovdje, zajedno?" Ima nekoliko reakcija na to, koje svi mi dobro poznajemo. Neki od nas će se vratiti, vratili smo se odavno. Ono malo dijete koje se vrati dijete je koje će se odreći dijela sebe kako ne bi izgubilo onog drugoga. Izgubit ću svoju slobodu kako ne bih izgubio povezanost. I naučit ću voljeti na način opterećen dodatnom zabrinutošću, dodatnom odgovornošću i dodatnom zaštitom, i neću znati kako da te ostavim da bih se išao igrati, da bih osjetio užitak, da bih otkrivao, da bih ušao u samog sebe.
Translate this into adult language. It starts very young. It continues into our sex lives up to the end. Child number two comes back but looks like that over their shoulder all the time. "Are you going to be there? Are you going to curse me, scold me? Are you going to be angry with me?" And they may be gone, but they're never really away. And those are often the people that will tell you, "In the beginning, it was super hot." Because in the beginning, the growing intimacy wasn't yet so strong that it actually led to the decrease of desire. The more connected I became, the more responsible I felt, the less I was able to let go in your presence. The third child doesn't really come back.
Prevedimo to na jezik odraslih. Počinje dok smo vrlo mladi i nastavlja se kroz naš seksualni život do samoga kraja. Drugo dijete se vraća, ali se stalno osvrće preko ramena. "Hoćeš li me čekati? Hoćeš li me psovati? Hoćeš li me grditi? Hoćeš li se ljutiti na mene?" Oni možda i odu, ali nikad nisu stvarno otišli, i to su oni koji će vam često reći: "Na početku je bilo sjajno." Jer na početku sve veća intimnost još nije bila toliko jaka da smanji žudnju. Što sam se povezanijom osjećala, to sam se više odgovornom osjećala, to sam se teže mogla opustiti u tvojoj prisutnosti. Treće se dijete zapravo ne vraća.
So what happens, if you want to sustain desire, it's that real dialectic piece. On the one hand you want the security in order to be able to go. On the other hand if you can't go, you can't have pleasure, you can't culminate, you don't have an orgasm, you don't get excited because you spend your time in the body and the head of the other and not in your own.
Dakle, što treba učiniti da bi se održala žudnja? To je dijalektični dio. S jedne strane, želite sigurnost da biste mogli otići. S druge strane, ako ne možete otići, ne možete uživati, ne možete doći do vrhunca, ne možete doživjeti orgazam, ne možete se uzbuditi jer vrijeme provodite u tijelu i umu onog drugog, a ne u vlastitome.
So in this dilemma about reconciling these two sets of fundamental needs, there are a few things that I've come to understand erotic couples do. One, they have a lot of sexual privacy. They understand that there is an erotic space that belongs to each of them. They also understand that foreplay is not something you do five minutes before the real thing. Foreplay pretty much starts at the end of the previous orgasm. They also understand that an erotic space isn't about, you begin to stroke the other. It's about you create a space where you leave Management Inc., maybe where you leave the Agile program --
Dakle, u dilemi oko pomirenja ovih dviju grupa temeljnih potreba, uvidjela sam nekoliko stvari koje rade erotični parovi. Prvo, imaju mnogo seksualne privatnosti. Razumiju da postoji erotični prostor koji pripada svakome od njih zasebno. Također razumiju da predigra nije nešto što radite pet minuta prije "prave stvari". Predigra manje-više počinje odmah nakon prethodnog orgazma. Također razumiju da erotični prostor nije mjesto na kojemu počnete maziti jedno drugo. To je stvaranje prostora bez kočnica gdje napuštate ambiciozan program.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
And you actually just enter that place where you stop being the good citizen who is taking care of things and being responsible.
Ulazite u prostor u kojemu prestajete biti uzoran građanin
Responsibility and desire just butt heads. They don't really do well together. Erotic couples also understand that passion waxes and wanes. It's pretty much like the moon. It has intermittent eclipses. But what they know is they know how to resurrect it. They know how to bring it back. And they know how to bring it back because they have demystified one big myth, which is the myth of spontaneity, which is that it's just going to fall from heaven while you're folding the laundry like a deus ex machina, and in fact they understood that whatever is going to just happen in a long-term relationship, already has.
koji brine za stvari i odgovoran je. Odgovornost i žudnja se ne slažu . Ne idu skupa. Erotični parovi također razumiju da strast sjaji i blijedi. Prilično sliči mjesecu: ima naizmjenična pomračenja. Ali oni je znaju i oživjeti. Znaju kako je vratiti. A znaju kako je vratiti jer su demistificirali jedan velik mit: mit o spontanosti, ideju da će im strast pasti iz vedra neba, dok glačaju rublje, kao duh iz boce, i oni zapravo razumiju da što god se samo tako može dogoditi, u dugotrajnoj se vezi već dogodilo.
Committed sex is premeditated sex. It's willful. It's intentional. It's focus and presence.
Seks u trajnoj vezi uvijek je seks s predumišljajem. Promišljen je. Namjeran je. Tajna je u usredotočenosti i prisutnosti.
Merry Valentine's.
Sretno Valentinovo.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)