液態之愛
最新书摘：
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以明2018-08-06Love is about adding to the world - each addition being the living trace of the loving self; in love, the self is , bit by bit, transplanted onto the world.
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以明2018-08-06Desire is the wish to consume. To imbibe, devour, ingest and digest - annihilate. Desire needs no other prompt but the presence of alterity.Desire is an im- pulse to strip alterity of its otherness; thereby, to disempower. From the tasting, exploring, familiarizing and domesticating, alterity would emerge with the sting of temptation pulled out and broken. If it survives the treatment, that is. The odds are, though, that in the process its undigested remnants will have fallen from the realm of consumables to that of waste.In its essence, desire is an urge of destruction. And, though but obliquely, the urge of self-ddestruction: desire is contaminated, from its birth, by the death-wish. This is, though, its closely guarded secret; guarded mosrly from itself.
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以明2018-08-06As long as it lives, love hovers on the brink of defeat. It dissolves its past as it goes; it leaves no fortified trenches behind to which it could retreat, running for shelter in case of trouble. And it knows not what lies ahead and what the future may bring. It will never gain confidence strong enough to disperse the clouds and stifle anxiety. Love is a mortgage loan drawn on an uncertain, and inscrutable, future.Love may be, and often is, as frightening as death; only, unlike death, it covers up that truth by the flurry of desire and excitement. It makes sense to think of the difference between love and death as one between attraction and repulsion.
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以明2018-08-06Eros prompts a hand to be stretched towards the other- but hands that may cares may also clutch and squeeze.
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以明2018-08-06In this lies the wondrous fragility of love, side by side with its cursed refusal to bear vulnerability lightly. All love strives to foreclose, but at the moment of triumph it meets its ultimate defeat. All love struggles to bury the sources of its precariousness and suspense; but if it succeeds, it quickly starts wilting– and fades.
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以明2018-08-06The pathos of love consists in the insurmountable duality of beings.’ Attempts to overcome that duality, to tame the wayward and domesticate the riotous, to make the unknowable predictable and enchain the free-roaming– all such things sound the death-knell to love. Eros won’t outlast duality.
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以明2018-08-06In every love, there are at least two beings, each of them the great unknown in the equations of the other. This is what makes love feel like a caprice of fate– that eerie and mysterious future, impossible to be told in advance, to be pre-empted or staved off, to be speeded up or arrested. To love means opening up to that fate, that most sublime of all human conditions, one in which fear blends with joy into an alloy that no longer allows its ingredients to separate. Opening up to that fate means, in the ultimate account, admission of freedom into being: that freedom which is embodied in the Other, the companion in love. As Erich Fromm put it:‘Satisfaction in individual love cannot be attained... with- out true humility, courage, faith and discipline’; only to add right away, with sadness,...
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以明2018-08-06In other words, it is not in craving after ready-made, complete and finished things that love finds its meaning– but in the urge to participate in the becoming of such things. Love is akin to transcendence; it is but another name for creative drive and as such is fraught with risks, as all creation is never sure where it is going to end.
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以明2018-08-06Love is not for the beautiful, as you think; it is for begetting and birth in the beautiful.
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以明2018-08-06In an unstable environment, retention and habit acquisition– the trademarks of successful learning– are not just counterproductive, but may prove to be fatal in their consequences. What, over and over again, proves lethal to the rats in city sewers– those highly intelligent creatures able to learn fast how to sieve out the nutritious snips from among the poisonous baits– is the element of instability, of rule defiance, inserted into the network of underground troughs and chutes by the irregular, unlearnable, unpredictable, truly impenetrable‘alterity’ of other – human– intelligent creatures: creatures notorious for their penchant for breaking with routine and playing havoc with the distinction between the regular and the contingent.
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以明2018-08-06The kind of knowledge that rises in volume as the string of love episodes grows longer is that of ‘love’ as sharp, short and shocking episodes, shot through by the apriori awareness of brittleness and brevity. The kinds of skills that are acquired are those of finishing quickly and starting from the beginning’, of which, according to Søren Kierkegaard, Mozart’s Don Giovanni was the archetypal virtuoso.
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以明2018-08-06This sudden abundance and apparent availability of love experiences may (and does) feed the conviction that love (falling in love, soliciting love) is a skill to be learned, and that the mastery of the skill grows with the number of experiments and assiduity of exercise.
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以明2018-08-06Experience of others can be known only as a processed, interpreted story of what the others lived through.
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以明2018-08-06Love and death have no history of their own. They are events in human time– each one a separate event, not connected (let alone connected causally) to other ‘similar’ events, unless in human compositions retrospectively eager to spot– to invent – the connections and comprehend the incomprehensible.And so you cannot learn to love; nor can you learn to die. And you cannot learn the elusive– the non-existent, though keenly desired– art of avoiding their grip and keeping out of their way. Love and death will strike, come their time; only you have no inkling when that time is. Whenever it comes, it will take you unawares. Into your daily preoccupations, love and death will riseab nihilo– out of nothingness.
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以明2018-08-06Ivan Klima says: there is little that comes so close to death as fulfilled love. Each appearance of either of the two is a one-off, but also once-and-for-all appearance, brooking no repetition, allowing no appeal and promising no reprieve. Each one must, and does, stand‘on its own’. Each one is born for the first time, or born again, whenever it enters, always sprouting from nowhere, from the darkness of non-being without past or future. Each one, each time, begins from the beginning, laying bare the superfluity of past plots and the vanity of all future plotting.Neither love nor death can be entered twice; even less so than Heraclitus’ river. They are, indeed, their own head and tails, being dismissive and negligent of all others.
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Payber2024-05-17從本質上來說，欲望是種毀滅的衝動，也是種自我毀滅的衝動，儘管拐彎抹角：欲望從誕生之際,便被死亡的願望所沾染。然而,這是它最私 密防守的祕密；最主要是防守它自己。 而愛，乃是去關切、去維護關切對象的願望。不像欲望的向心式集中，愛是一種離心式的推力。那是去擴張、去超越、去舒展存在於「那邊」者的推力。愛讓主體融合、吸納、同化於其對象裡，而不是像欲望那樣讓主體吞噬掉對象。愛爲這個世界添加東西—每個加上的東西，都是去愛的自我的生命痕跡；因爲有愛，自我才逐漸在世界生根。越把自己給予所愛的對象，自我就越寬廣。自我在歷經自我之異己的淬煉後重生，這便是愛。
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Payber2024-05-17然而，在軟綿愛撫和無情鐵鉗間的界限，只是細細一線，很容易就會被忽略。愛欲若沒實踐前者，就並非忠於自己；但若沒冒險一試後者，就不能實踐前者。愛欲鼓勵把手伸向他人——然而，會去愛撫的手，也會去攫取或榨擠。