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It is often assumed by we post-Romantics that ‘doing what you want’ is about the most sinful or dangerous thing imaginable.  ‘Doing what is right’ is better, we say; …and if what is ‘right’ happens to . . . → Read More: want vs. like]]> Somewhat related to epistemology (but I’m not going there now) is the question of how emotion & desire can relate truth or moral guidance.

It is often assumed by we post-Romantics that ‘doing what you want’ is about the most sinful or dangerous thing imaginable.  ‘Doing what is right’ is better, we say; …and if what is ‘right’ happens to be what you want, then all the better.  And if what is ‘wrong’ is what you want, then well… either do it quietly or privately or not at all – if you can.

I believe, however, that desires are not all bad.  I actually wonder if what we call ‘bad desires’ are just ‘good desires’ that have been distorted, broken, suppressed or otherwise damaged.

But in addition to this, I think we can distinguish between deep, lasting and true desires (‘wants’) and shallow, fleeting and deceptive desires (‘likes’).  For example, at a spur of the moment, now, in my face kind of level, I ‘like’ a lot of things which I don’t actually ‘want’ at another, long run, after the fact, in my gut kind of level.  Examples can easily be multiplied.

I wonder if we often shortchange ourselves by loading up our lives with ‘likes’ instead of carving out time, money, energy, opportunities or space for the ‘wants’.  We look back at our afternoon, day, week, month, year or life and we lament that we didn’t get what we deeply ‘wanted’ (i.e. lasting, healthy relationships), even if we may well have quite often got what we ‘liked’ (i.e. this or that must-have gadget).

Sorting out the wants from the likes may well not be an exact science – who would ever thing it would be? – but I think we intuitively ‘know’ how to do the sorting.  Here’s to us doing it better.

the higher the celebrity culture, the less interested we are in each other

He’s down to the last two girls, and is being incredibly intimate with both of them.  Both of the girls (and no doubt part of him) are going to be really hurt.  I can’t count the number of times he has said, “I’m just . . . → Read More: commitment]]> Di (me? never!) is watching ‘the Bachelor’.  We like the ugliness of the characters.  Ugggh!

He’s down to the last two girls, and is being incredibly intimate with both of them.  Both of the girls (and no doubt part of him) are going to be really hurt.  I can’t count the number of times he has said, “I’m just so confused right now emotionally.”  Di just said, “Pashing two girls.  For the love!”

The dangerous illusion is that he hasn’t committed to either one yet.  The truth is that the intense intimacy they have shared (not just physical intimacy, but emotional, relational intimacy – the identity forming stuff) has long since been building committed bonds with both of them.  The principle is thus: intimacy and commitment advance in tandem.  You can’t have one, as they say, without the other.

I often make this point concerning the relational bond or union (or ‘joining’ or ‘marriage’) created by sexual union, but the same principle holds true even before the sexual act.  A ‘mere’ kiss, for example, is no ‘mere’ thing at all.  Heck, even the first hand-holding experience sends a few hundred amps up one’s arm.

The author (James Olthuis) says, “Uncertainties, confusion and paradox are appropriate descriptions for our world at the dawn of our new millennium.  Despite unparalleled growth in almost every area of human endeavor, there . . . → Read More: the beautiful risk]]> Just saw a review of a book about relational counselling called ‘The Beautiful Risk: A New Psychology of Loving and Being Loved.”  Some snippets from the review:

The author (James Olthuis) says, “Uncertainties, confusion and paradox are appropriate descriptions for our world at the dawn of our new millennium.  Despite unparalleled growth in almost every area of human endeavor, there has not been parallel growth in our ability to know ourselves and get along with each other.”

One of the chapters is entitled ‘the Central Relational Paradox’, describing the way we disconnect and connect with others in ways that attempt to minimise personal risk.  This book offers a challenge to take the beautiful risk, to be open to vulnerability and growth, and to a deepening of connections at all levels of being.