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?
Zašto dobar seks tako često izbledi, čak i kod parova koji se vole kao i ranije? I zašto dobra intima ne garantuje dobar seks, kako se često pogrešno veruje? Potom se možemo zapitati, možemo li da želimo ono što već imamo? To je pitanje zlata vredno, zar ne? I zašto je zabranjeno tako erotično? Zbog čega prestupi toliko pojačavaju žudnju? I zašto od seksa nastaju bebe, a bebe izazivaju erotsku katastrofu kod parova?
(Laughter)
Kao neki fatalni erotski udarac, 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?
A kada volite, kakav je to osećaj? A kada žudite, koliko 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 pitanja u središtu mog istraživanja o prirodi erotske žudnje i dilemama u vezi sa time u savremenoj ljubavi. Putujem svetom i primećujem da tamo gde je stupila romantika izgleda da postoji kriza žudnje. Kriza žudnje, u smislu posedovanja onoga što želimo - žudnje kao izraza individualnosti, našeg slobodnog izbora, našeg identiteta - žudnje koja je postala središnji koncept kao deo savremene ljubavi i individualističkih društava.
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 istoriji čovečanstva da pokušavamo da dugoročno doživimo seksualnost, ne zato što želimo četrnaestoro dece, a treba nam ih još, jer mnoga neće preživeti i ne zato što je to isključivo bračna dužnost žene. Prvi put želimo seks na duže zbog zadovoljstva i povezanosti čiji je koren 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.
Šta, dakle, održava žudnju i zašto je to tako teško? Mislim da je u srcu održanja žudnje u posvećenoj vezi pomirenje dve osnovne ljudske potrebe. Sa jedne strane, tu je potreba za sigurnošću, predvidljivošću, za bezbednošću, za oslanjanjem na druge, za pouzdanošću, stalnošću - za svim tim osnovnim, temeljnim iskustvima u našim životima, koje nazivamo domom. Ali imamo i podjednako jaku potrebu - i žene i muškarci - za avanturom, novinom, misterijom, za rizikom, za opasnošću, za nepoznatim, neočekivanim, iznenađujućim, shvatili ste - za putovanjem, za kretanjem.
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.
Pomiriti našu potrebu za sigurnošću i potrebu za avanturom u jednoj vezi, ili kako to danas zovemo, u "strastvenom braku", nekada se od same definicije činilo protivurečnim. Brak je bio ekonomska institucija u kojoj vam je dato doživotno partnerstvo u vidu dece i društvenog položaja, nasledstva i sadrugarstva. Ali sada od partnera tražimo sve ovo, ali još hoću i da mi budeš najbolji prijatelj i verni pouzdanik i strastveni ljubavnik i uz sve to, mi živimo duplo duže.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
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.
Prilazimo jednoj osobi i tražimo da nam obezbedi ono što je nekad davalo čitavo selo: daj mi pripadnost, daj mi identitet, daj mi stalnost, ali mi daj i uzvišenost i misteriju i začudnost nad životom, Daj mi utehu, daj mi uzbuđenje. Daj mi novinu, daj mi poznato. Daj mi predvidljivost, daj mi iznenađenje. I svi mislimo da je to dato, da će nas igračke i veš spasiti.
(Laughter)
(Aplauz)
(Applause)
Sad dolazimo do egzistencijalne stvarnosti 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.
Jer nekako mislim - i vratiću se na to - da je 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.
Dakle, zašto dobar seks tako često izbledi? Kakva je veza između ljubavi i žudnje? U kakvom su odnosu i kako se sukobljavaju? 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, onda je to za mene "imati". Ako postoji glagol koji ide uz žudnju, onda je to "želeti". U ljubavi želimo da imamo, želimo da znamo voljenu osobu. Zelimo da smanjimo razdaljinu. Želimo da sažmemo taj jaz. Želimo da uklonimo napetost. Želimo bliskost. Ali u žudnji uglavnom ne želimo da se vraćamo na mesta gde smo već bili. Minula iskustva nam ne drže pažnju. U žudnji želimo Drugog, nekog da posećujemo sa druge strane, sa kim možemo provesti neko vreme, u čiju ulicu crvenih fenjera možemo da svratimo da vidimo čega ima. U žudnji želimo most koji treba da pređemo. Odnosno, kako to nekad kažem, vatri je potreban vazduh. Žudnji je potreban prostor. Kad se to ovako sroči često zvuči veoma 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.
Ali onda sam to pitanje poslednjih godina postavila u preko 20 zemalja pišući "Sparivanje u zatočeništvu" i pitala ljude: "U kojim situacijama vas partner najviše privlači?" Ne nužno seksualno, već najviše privlači. U različitim kulturama, različitim religijama i kod različitih polova - osim jedne stvari - nekoliko je odgovora koji se stalno ponavljaju.
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.
U prvoj gupi su: "partner me najviše privlači kada je odsutan, kad smo razdvojeni, kad se opet sastanemo." U suštini, kada se pokrene moja sposobnost da zamislim sebe pored partnera, kada moja mašta opet postane deo slike i kada je mogu zasnovati na odsustvu i čežnji, bitnim delovima 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.
Druga grupa je još interesantnija: "partner me najviše privlači kad ga vidim u ateljeu, kad je ona na pozornici, kad je on u svom elementu, kad ona nešto radi sa strašću, kad ga vidim na zabavi i ostali ga primećuju, kad je vidim da privlači pažnju." Kad vidim partnera ozarenog i samopouzdanog, to je verovatno stvar koja najviše može da me uzbudi. Kada zrači, jer je samodovoljan. Gledam ovu osobu - uzgred, žudnja nam nije na vidiku kad smo sjedinjeni u jedno, udaljeni na pet centimetara. Ne znam koliko je to u inčima. Žudnja nije na vidiku ni kad su ljudi razvojeni
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.
toliko da se više ni ne vide. Žudnja je kad posmatram partnera sa prijatne razdaljine, kada ta osoba toliko poznata, kad toliko znate o njoj, u tom trenutku opet postane nešto misteriozno, neuhvatljivo. U tom prostoru između mene i drugoga krije se erotski naboj, nalazi se kretnja ka drugome. Jer nekada, kao što kaže Prust, misterija nije u putovanju na nova mesta, već u posmatranju novim očima. Stoga, kad vidim partnera samog ili samu, kako su zaokupljeni nečim, gledam tu osobu i trenutno doživim izmenu percepcije i spremna sam na misterije koje žive tik do 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 još važnije, u tom opisu drugoga ili sebe - isto je - najzanimljivije je da u žudnji nema potrebe. Niko nikom ne treba. U žudnji nema preuzimanja brige. Preuzimane brige znači veliku ljubav. To je moćan 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.
Da mi je videti kako nekog uzbuđuje osoba kojoj je ona potrebna. Želja je jedno. Potreba je hladan tuš i žene su to oduvek znale, jer sve što podseća na roditeljstvo obično suzbija erotski naboj.
(Laughter)
Nije bez razloga, 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?
U trećoj grupi odgovora občno su: "kad sam iznenađen, kad se smejemo zajedno," ili kao što mi rekoše u kancelariji, "kad je u odelu", a ja sam dodala: "Znate ili je u pitanju smoking ili kaubojske čizme." U osnovi se radi o postojanju novine. Ali novina nisu nove poze. Nije u pitanju repertoar tehnika. Novina se svodi na pitanje "Koji deo sebe ispoljavate?" "Koji deo vas drugi upravo vide?"
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, može se reći da seks nije nešto što se radi, zar ne? Seks je mesto koje posećujete. Prostor u koji ulazite unutar sebe i sa nekim drugim, ili drugima. Dakle, gde vi idete u seksu? Sa kojim delovima sebe se povezujete? Šta tamo želite da iskažete? Da li je to mesto za uzvišenost i duhovno jedinstvo? Mesto za nestašluk ili bezbednu agresivnost? Mesto gde se konačno možete predati bez potrebe da budete odgovorni za sve? Mesto gde iskazujete detinje želje? Šta proizlazi odatle? To je jedan jezik. Ne samo ponašanje. Mene zanima upravo poetika tog jezika i zato sam počela da istražujem 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. To je osnova, biologija, prirodni instinkt. Mi jedini imamo erotski život, život koji je seksualno preobražen ljudskom maštom. Mi smo jedini koji možemo da vodimo ljubav satima, da božanstveno provedemo vreme, imamo višestruke orgazme, a da nikoga ne dodirnemo, već samo putem mašte. Možemo to samo nagovestiti. Čak ne moramo ni da to da uradimo. Možemo doživeti tu moćnu stvar zvanu iščekivanje, koje je vezivno tkivo žudnje, sposobnost da zamišljamo, kao da se to dešava, iskusimo to kao da se dešava, iako se ništa ne dešava, a istovremeno se sve dešava.
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.
Kada sam počela da razmišljam o erotičnosti, počela sam da razmišljam o poetici seksa i ako je posmatram kao inteligenciju, onda je ona nešto što razvijamo. Od čega se ona sastoji? Od mašte, razigranosti, novine, znatiželje, misterije. Ali, glavni sastojak je upravo mašta.
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.
Da bih otkrila ko su parovi sa erotskom iskrom, šta održava žudnju, morala sam da se vratim početnoj definiciji erotičnosti, mističnoj definiciji i istražila sam je posmatrajući grupe ljudi koji su preživeli traumu, koja je druga krajnost, i posmatrala sam zajednicu u kojoj sam odrasla, koja je zajednica ljudi koji su preživeli holokaust u Belgiji i gde su postojale dve grupe: oni koji nisu umrli i oni koji su se vratili u život. A oni koji nisu umrli često su živeli skoro prikovani za tlo i nisu mogli da iskuse zadovoljsvo, nisu imali poverenja, jer kada ste na oprezu, zabrinuti, nervozni i nesigurni, ne možete da podignete glavu i otisnete se u prostor, budete razigrani, bezbedni i maštoviti. Oni koji su se vratili u život bili su oni koji su erotiku shvatali kao potivotrov za smrt. Znali su kako da ostanu živi. U razgovoru o odsustvu seksa sa parovima sa kojima radim, ponekad bih čula rečenicu: "Hoću više seksa", ali ljudi uopšteno žele bolji seks, a "bolje" znači nanovo se povezati sa tim svojstvom životnosti, energičnosti, oživljenosti, vitalnosti, erosa, energije, koje im je seks nekad pružao, ili za koje su se nadali da će im pružiti.
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."
Stoga sam počela da postavljam jedno drugo pitanje. Pitanje se počinjalo sa "Gasim se kad ... " "Moja žudnja nestaje kad ...", što nije isto pitanje kao "Odbija me kad..." ili "Odbijaš me kad ..." I ljudi su ppočeli da odgovaraju: "Gasim se kada se osećam mrtvo iznutra, kad ne volim svoje telo, kad se osećam staro, kad nemam vremena za sebe, kad čak nemam ni priliku da komuniciram sa tobom, kada mi posao ide loše, kada mi je samopouzdanje nisko, kada se osećam kao da ne vredim, kad ne osećam da imam pravo da želim, da uzimam, da primam zadovoljstvo."
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.
Onda sam obrnula pitanje. "Uzbudim se kada ..." Pošto ljudi uglavnom vole da se govore: "Ti me uzbuđuješ, šta me uzbuđuje", a "ja" je tada van jednačine. Razumete? Ako ste mrtvi iznutra, ogromna pažnja druge osobe za Dan zaljubljenih neće vam nimalo značiti. Nema nikog kod kuće. (Smeh)
(Laughter)
So I turn myself on when, I turn on my desires, I wake up when ...
Dakle: "Uzbuđujem se kada se pokrenu moje žudnje" "Probudim se kada ..."
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.
U ovom paradoksu između ljubavi i žudnje, čini se da najviše zbunjuje to što isti oni sastojci koji hrane ljubav - zajedništvo, uzajamnost, zaštita, briga, odgovornost za drugoga - baš ti sastojci nekada guše žudnju. Jer žudnja dolazi uz pregršt osećanja koje ljubav ne voli baš uvek: ljubomora, posesivnost, agresija, moć, dominacija, nevaljalost, vragolanstvo. Većinu nas noću uzbuđuje upravo ono prema čemu pokazujemo otpor danju. Erotski um nije baš politički ispravan. Da svi fantaziraju na postelji posutoj ružama, ne bismo o tome imali ovako zanimljive razgovore.
(Laughter)
Ali ne, gore u našoj glavi,
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.
odvija se toliko toga što ne znamo uvek kako da pokažemo osobi koju volimo, jer mislimo da uz ljubav ide nesebičnost, dok zapravo uz žudnju dolazi jedna doza sebičnosti, u najboljem smislu reči: to je sposobnost da ostanemo povezani sa sobom u prisustvu drugog.
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.
Želim nešto da vam dočaram, jer ova potreba za pomirenjem dveju grupa potreba, to je nešto sa čime se rađamo. Tu je potreba za povezivanjem, potreba za odvojenošću ili naša potreba za sigurnošću i avanturom ili potreba za zajedništvom i samostalnošću. Zamislite malo dete koje vam sedi u krilu, oseća se sigurno i prijatno kao u udobnom gnezdu. U nekom trenutku svi imamo potrebu da odemo u svet, da otkrivamo i istražujemo. To je začetak žudnje. Tom istraživačkom duhu potrebna je znatiželja, otkriće. Kad se dete osvrne i pogleda vas i ako mu tad kažete: "Hej, dete, svet je divno mesto. Samo napred. Postoji toliko zabavnih stvari." Tada ono može da ode i istovremeno doživi povezanost i odvojenost. Može se prepustiti mašti, svom telu, svojoj razigranosti, znajući celo vreme da će ga neko čekati kada se vrati.
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.
Ali ako je sa te strane neko ko kaže: "Zabrinut sam. Nervozan sam. Depresivan sam. Moj partner već dugo ne mari za mene. Šta je tako dobro tamo? Za nemamo mi sve zajedno što ti treba, ti i ja?" Tada nastupe neke reakcije koje svi manje-više poznajemo. Neki će se vratiti natrag, neki su se odavno vratili i to malo dete koje se vrati je dete koje će se odreći dela sebe da ne izgubi onog drugog. Izgubiću slobodu, da ne izgubim povezanost. I naučiću da volim na način opterećen dodatnom brigom i dodatnom odgovornošću i dodatnom zaštitom i neću znati kako da odem od tebe, da se igram, da iskusim zadovoljstvo, da otkrivam, da zakoračim u 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.
Prevedite ovo na jezik odraslih. Počinje rano, a nadovezuje se na naše seksualne živote i na sve ostalo. Dete broj dva se vraća ali stalno gleda iza sebe. "Da li ćes biti tu? Hoćeš li me opsovati? Hoćeš li me izgrditi? Hoćeš li se naljutiti na mene?" I možda će otići, ali nikad neće biti istinski odsutno. I to su često ljudi koji će vam reći kako je u početku sve bilo superuzbudljivo. U početku, sve izraženija initima nije bila toliko snažna da bi uticala na smanjenje žudnje. Što sam više osećala povezanost, rastao je moj osećaj odgovornosti, a sve manje sam mogla da se opustim u tvom prisustvu. Treće dete se 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, ako želite da oržite žudnju mislite o toj podvojenosti opcija. Sa jedne strane želite sigurnost kako biste mogli otići. Sa druge, ako ne možete da odete, ne možete da iskusite zadovoljstvo, ne možete da doživite vrhunac, ne postižete orgazam, ne uzbuđujete se jer boravite u glavi i telu drugoga, a ne u svojima.
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 --
Kada je u pitanju ova dilema o pomirenju ove dve grupe osnovnih potreba erotični parovi rade nekoliko stvari. Prvo, imaju mnogo seksualne privatnosti. Znaju da postoji jedan erotski prostor koji pripada svakom od njih. Takođe znaju da predigra nije nešto što odradite pet minuta pre glavne stvari. Predigra manje-više počinje okončanjem prethodnog orgazma. Znaju i da erotski prostor nije kad međusobno počnete da se mazite, već je to stvaranje prostora gde bacate dirigentsku palicu i gde se možda odričete utabanih staza
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And you actually just enter that place where you stop being the good citizen who is taking care of things and being responsible.
i zapravo samo stupate u prostor gde 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 je odgovoran i brine o stvarima. Odgovornost i žudnja su kao rogovi u vreći. Baš se i ne slažu. Erotični parovi znaju i da strast odlazi i dolazi. Skoro kao Mesec koji ima redovna pomračenja. Ali takođe znaju i kako oživeti strast. Umeju da je vrate, a znaju i kako da je vrate, jer su otkrili jedan veliki mit, mit o spontanosti, koji kaže da će to nešto pasti sa neba dok slažete rublje kao prst sudbine i takođe znaju da ono što treba da se dogodi u dugoj vezi već i dogodilo.
Committed sex is premeditated sex. It's willful. It's intentional. It's focus and presence.
Posvećeni seks je unapred osmišljeni seks. Voljan. Nameran. On je fokus i prisustvo.
Merry Valentine's.
Srećan vam Dan zaljubljenih.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)