In Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Cynthia and Ann are talking, and Cynthia says she and Graham made a videotape. Ann then states

You can’t trust him. He’s perverted.

Ann’s resolute comment is a 180° change from her feelings about Graham a few days earlier, and there are several possible reasons for it:

• She thinks sex is ok, but sex videotapes are not.
• She likes or maybe even loves Graham from her realself, but then she finds out that he made sexual videotapes of many other women.
• She likes or maybe even loves Graham from her realself, but then she finds out that he made a sex tape with her sister.
• She feels betrayed ontologically, “You can’t trust him,” because she feels she and Graham were developing some kind of deeper relationship, and then she learns that he made the videotapes or videotape.

It’s impossible to say exactly how much of Ann’s negative and angry feelings about Graham are based on her belief that the videotapes are inherently perverted and how much of her feelings are based on what she feels is his ontological infidelity with other women, with her sister, or with both. Whatever the reasons, she feels they were developing a realself-to-realself relationship, but that relationship has failed and is now over.

Ann doesn’t know it yet, but one of the question she will need to answer as she continues moving forward ontologically is Are the tapes truly perverted or are they something else? She will need to answer this because the answer will go a long ways in determining if Graham truly is perverted, and that answer will go a long way in determining if she should continue developing a deeper relationship with him.

In another ontological area, we have all grown up in a socialself world, and so we have all assimilated a lot of socialself, and even decreasing realself, negative ideas about sex. This assimilation presents a problem for people who are increasing their degrees of realself because they have to understand these ideas in their true ontological context if they are to continue moving forward. Among the many other things she has to think about, Ann is confronting some of these ideas—such as the fundamental question Is sex dirty or perverted?—that are incompatible with the greater and greater degrees of realself she is becoming. She is a woman with a lot on her mind and a lot of strong emotions swirling around within her.

All in all, there isn’t a lot here ontologically; this post is included mainly to set up Ann’s ontological world and then show in the next post how two statements by Cynthia potentially have a great impact on Ann’s changing her mind about Graham.

Number 14 in the Sex, Lies, and Videotape series. All the posts in this series are listed in the All the Series’ Posts page.

Ontologically, Sex, Lies, and Videotape is interesting for two main reasons. The first is that the two main characters, Ann and Graham, are both ontologically sensitive and insightful, and the second is that the movie shows Ann’s ontological growth over a period of time.

Other movies may have one of their characters express an ontological emotion or thought, but in these movies the characters’ ontological expressions are usually more isolated events than extended examinations of people who are committed to increasing their degrees of realself. Graham has spent the last nine years of his life on his ontological journey, and Ann begins her journey at the beginning of the movie.

Ann’s ontological journey is much more interesting because she keeps making progress throughout the movie—she is definitely more her realself at the end of the movie than she is at the beginning.

But not every incident in Ann’s life moves her forward. She senses Graham’s realself within him from the first day or two after meeting him, and she responds to that self and to him from her own nascent realself.

She develops an ontologically trusting feeling for him, and one day she happily goes to visit him. She says “Hi!” on first seeing him, and after seeing that he has videos she asks in a friendly and flirty tone, “Can we watch one?” But her thoughts and feelings about him change as she hears more about the videos:

Graham: It’s open!

Ann: Hi!

Graham: Hello, Ann.

Ann: I hope I’m not botherin’ you.

Graham: No, no.

Ann: I would’ve phoned. You busy?

Graham: No, no. I can finish later.

Ann: I just wanted to see what the apartment looked like with furniture.

Graham: Yeah, well, I’m afraid there’s not much to see. I’m sort of cultivating this minimalist vibe.

Ann: You could use a bookshelf.

Graham: Yeah? Yeah, you think so? They’re … you know, they’re all library books.

Ann: What are these?

Graham: Uh, those are videotapes.

Ann: I can see that. Of what?

Graham: It’s a personal project I’ve been workin’ on.

Ann: What kind of personal project?

Graham: What?

Ann: What kind of personal project?

Graham: Uh, a personal project like anyone else’s personal project. Mine’s just a little more … personal, I guess.

Ann: Who’s Donna?

Graham: What?

Ann: Donna. It says “Donna” here on the tape.

Graham: Donna was a girl I knew in Florida.

Ann: Oh, you went out with her?

Graham: No, not really.

Ann: Why do these tapes all have women’s names on ’em?

Graham: Well, I enjoy interviewing women more than men.

Graham: It’s iced tea.

Ann: Thanks.

Graham: I’m sorry, do you want some lemon?

Ann: No, this is perfect.

Ann: So, all of these are … are interviews, huh?

Graham: Uh, yes.

Ann: Can we watch one?

Graham: No, I’d … No.

Ann: Why not?

Graham: Well, I promised each of the subjects that no one would see the videotapes except for me.

Ann: What are the interviews about?

Graham: The interviews are about sex.

Ann: Sex? What about sex?

Graham: Uh, everything about sex.

Ann: Like what?

Graham: What they’ve done, what they do, what they want to do but are afraid to ask for, what they wouldn’t do even if asked. Anything I can think of. Oh, your ice.

Ann: You just ask them questions?

Graham: Yes.

Ann: And they answer ’em?

Graham: Yeah. Uh … Mostly. Sometimes they do things.

Ann: To you?

Graham: No, uh … for the camera.

Ann: Graham, this is just so …

Graham: I’m sorry this came up.

Ann: No, I’m sorry.

Graham: I’m sorry this came up, and …

Ann: I’m … I’m gonna go.

Graham: Here, I’ll take it.

Ann: OK. Yeah. All right.

Graham: Bye.

Throughout the movie Ann moves forward toward realself-to-realself sex, but even though she does doesn’t mean that she still doesn’t have many negative and conflicting ideas about sex. She likes realself-to-realself sex more as she becomes more aware of it, but this video kind of sex, or what she thinks is this kind of sex, is not that kind of sex. Are the videos voyeuristic? Perverted? Pornographic? She feels a realself-to-realself connection with Graham, but now she knows he has videos of other women, lots of other women, and some of them are doing things sexual on the videos.

Ann soon leaves, stunned ontologically: “Graham, this is just so … .” Probably the main reason she is stunned is that she feels she opened her ego boundary to him, to her realself, and she now feels that he has betrayed that self in some way. As she walks out the door, she has shut her realself off to him.

Number 12 in the Sex, Lies, and Videotape series. All the posts in this series are listed in the All the Series’ Posts page.

As with all increasing realself people, Ann and Graham in Sex, Lies, and Videotape express their current ontological thoughts and emotions through their sex lives. One example of their doing this is when they each say they are the most sexual when they are by themselves.

Ann tells her therapist:

Ann: I mean, I’m sure he probably wishes that I would initiate things once in a while, and I would, except for it just never occurs to me, and … well, the few times I have felt like it I was by myself.

And in the café Graham tells Ann “something personal”:

Graham: I’m impotent.

Ann: You’re what?

Graham: Impotent.

Ann: You are?

Graham: Yeah. I mean, like, well, I can’t … I can’t get an erection … in the presence of another person. So, for all practical purposes, I’m impotent.

Ann and Graham are both in the beginning to early Transition, and so among many other things sex for them is a realself event. Men and women who are in the early stages of becoming their realselves are self-conscious and inhibited about becoming more their realselves with others, and this means they are also self-conscious and inhibited about sex because they sense they become more their realselves during sexual activity.

Ann thinks about sex only when “I was by myself” and Graham says he was impotent “in the presence of another person,” but in fact they are saying that they feel sexual, truly and fully sexual, only when they are their realselves. They have each reached degrees of realself where they sense that they can become as much of their realselves as they are able to be at the time only in privacy, which means they are also their most sexual when they are alone. They don’t understand all the details, but they are both aware that it’s one thing to talk to socialself people and it’s something entirely different to have sex as one’s realself with someone who is being his or her socialself.

At the end of Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Ann and Graham have sex, and they do because, before everything else, they have each found someone with whom they can be their realselves. However, it’s probably more accurate, and it is certainly more insightful, to say that instead of their having sex to say they develop a realself-to-realself relationship that includes sex, because that is by far the most important element in what takes place between them.

All the posts in this series are listed in the All the Series’ Posts page.

It’s very common for people who are increasing their degrees of realself to take a step forward, learn something new, and then use that new knowledge to examine other aspects of their lives. Ann does this in Sex, Lies, and Videotape, and these post about her will do the same.

Going back to the time when Ann and Graham were in the café, she says she wants to tell him “something personal”:

Ann: I think that, um … I think that people place far too much importance on it. And I think that stuff about women wantin’ it just as bad as men is crap. I think they want it, I just don’t think they want it for the reason men think they do.

I’m getting confused. Do you understand what I’m …?

Graham: Yeah.

Ann had started increasing her degree of realself before she met Graham, and that means when she talks to him she is somewhere between her socialself and her realself ontologically. By being in the transitional state between these two selves, she is also, inevitably, between socialself sex and realself sex in both her experiencing and her understanding of each of them.

As people become more their realself, they want to be that self more in their relationship with someone they love. They also want their sex life to be more realself-to-realself because they know that that is what sex truly is: it is isn’t just genital activity of “going through the motions,” but a sensuous blending of being and bodies.

Ann isn’t yet at the degree of realself where she is conscious of the importance of the realself in one’s sex life, but she is definitely at the degree of realself where she senses that sex as socialself sex is “overrated.”

She gets “confused” when she explains her thoughts about sex because she is aware that socialself-to-socialself sex is not very enjoyable and it’s not how sex should be. But at the same time she is not conscious of either the socialself’s or the realself’s existence, and that lack of understanding makes it impossible for her to explain accurately what she is feeling.

In the back of her mind, however, Ann has started thinking about having realself sex. Even though she doesn’t consciously know that the realself exists, or what a realself-to-realself relationship is, or what realself-to-realself sex is, she is moving forward in their direction.

In broader terms, the awareness that sex is “overrated” can represent a beginning understanding of the reason couples can have a good sexual relationship for the first two or three years of their marriage, but after that they have sex less and less until they have it only infrequently. They start their marriage with the unconscious belief that it might develop into some kind of realself-to-realself relationship, and that underlying belief makes the sex good. But once one of the couple slowly becomes more his or her socialself with the other, the sex changes to socialself sex, and that change is followed by a lack of ontological and sexual interest and desire by the other person.

All the posts in this series are listed in the All the Series’ Posts page.

In Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Ann is talking with her therapist, and she mentions that her husband has not been having as much sex with her as in the past. She continues:

Ann: I mean, I’m sure he probably wishes that I would initiate things once in a while, and I would, except for it just never occurs to me, and … well, the few times I have felt like it I was by myself.

Therapist: Did you do anything?

Ann: What do you mean?

Therapist: Did you masturbate?

Ann: Oh! Oh. Oh. God, no. No. Mm-mm.

Therapist: I take it from your response that you never masturbate.

Ann: Well … I tried once. It just seems so stupid!

Two ontological thoughts on Ann’s embarrassment:

• Sex is a realself event, and so she was embarrassed about admitting to having masturbated because it meant she was being her realself when she did it and, to a lesser degree, when she admits to it and talks about it. She puts her hands over her face to cover or conceal her realself, which feels exposed.
• Additionally, by admitting to masturbating she felt as if she were caught being her realself in the socialself world, and we all learn early in our lives that we are not suppose to do that.

A common socialself world misconception about all of this is that some people are confident about their sexuality, and they can discuss their masturbating without getting embarrassed. But what these people don’t realize is that Ann’s embarrassment wasn’t caused strictly by her admitting to masturbating, but by her being more her realself while she was doing it and later talking about it.

It’s not hard to give the impression of confidence when one talks about one’s sex life as one’s socialself, but once people reach the degree of realself Ann was in, they too will feel embarrassed discussing their sex lives, since everyone in the beginning Transition feels embarrassed about being more his or her realself.

The answer to all of this embarrassment, of course, is not to strive to become more “confident,” but to become more one’s realself. Becoming more “confident” now almost always means becoming more confident as one’s socialself, when instead what people really need to do is to become more their realself, thus making them more confident in being it with others.

All the posts in this series are listed in the All the Series’ Posts page.

Quite a few people think sex is “just biological,” or “just physical,” or even “just chemical.” But as men and women increase their degrees of realself, they see that sex is actually linked inextricably to the realself.

Why is this? The main reason is probably that even though we can become alienated ontologically—we can fool ourselves into thinking we are who we aren’t and we aren’t who we are—we probably can’t fool our sexual nature because it is connected with the core of who we truly are, our realselves.

Most people are being mostly their socialselves, and so one might think that expressions of sex as a realself event would be rare. But one needs to keep in mind that everyone has a realself, and so when men and women have sex their realselves, to whatever degree they are being it, enters into and influences their sexual lives.

Future posts will examine in detail many of the connections between sex and the realself, but for now here is a quick overview of a few ontological areas where sex is a realself event:

• The link between sex and the realself means that sex often represents an increase in degree of realself, and so the people who on some level fear, reject, or even hate that increase will also fear, reject, or even hate sex.
• This fear, rejection, and hate is seen in religious and social conservatives preoccupation with sex: gays, gay marriage, contraceptives, abortion, and so on. It’s not sex they dislike the most, but actually the increase in degree of realself that sex represents.
• Sex and the realself can be thought of as two ends of a spectrum, and so even for those who are fully conscious of the realself, it’s hard to tell in some cases where sex ends and ontology begins and where ontology ends and sex begins.
• Men and women have both sexual desires and ontological desires, and sometimes, maybe even often, men and women have sex to satisfy their ontological desires or, but to a lesser extent, they use their ontological emotions to enhance their sexual desires.
• The pleasures of sex are partly the pleasures of becoming more one’s realself with another person, whether the people involved are conscious of this or not.
• The ontological component in sexuality covers the full range of sexuality, from its best to its worst: one man may want a sensuous blending of beings and bodies with his wife and another man shoots his girlfriend who is leaving him, later telling authorities “if I can’t have her, no one will have her” or “now I will be the only man she’s ever had sex with and we will be together for ever.”
• Intense sexual jealousy, in all its various forms, is mostly if not almost entirely an ontological emotion.

There’s no question about it: we will never understand sex until we understand realself ontology.

A minor note about the term: in realself ontology sex is described as a realself event rather than something such as a realself phenomena in order to encompass a lot of non-physical sexuality, such as what have in the past been thought of as strictly sexual fantasies or sexual desires.

At this stage of their relationship, most people might not think a deep connection is developing between Ann and Graham in Sex, Lies, and Videotape. After all, she tells her therapist Graham is “interesting,” and that isn’t much to go on when considering the ontological depth of the relationship between two people.

But there were two incidents that indicate their relationship is becoming more ontological, meaning it is moving beyond the very common socialself-to-socialself relationship and is developing into a relationship between their realselves.

In the café Graham told Ann she was self-conscious, and she said

Ann: Me? Me? You think I’m self-conscious?

Graham: Well … I’ve been watching you. I watch you eat, you know, I watch you speak, watch you move, and I see somebody who is extremely aware of people looking at you.

Initially, it might seem creepy to have someone closely watching everything a person does. And for socialself-to-socialself relationships, this may be true. But when relationships start becoming ontological, the people involved understand that this heightened “tuning in” to another person is more an expression of one person’s realself getting closer to another person’s realself, and it is not seen as a violation of what might be thought of as a person’s sphere of privacy. Ann undoubtedly took Graham’s actions in this way—she wasn’t upset by them.

Late that night, Graham was sleeping on a couch (Ann and John don’t have a guest room?), and Ann got up, went to him, and knelt beside him, looking at him. She didn’t say anything or wake him; she just looked at him for a little while and then went back to bed. (As it turns out, Graham was actually awake, but he didn’t let Ann know.)

What’s happening to Ann is that Graham is reaching her realself, and unconsciously she is responding to him and his realself from her own realself. She goes to him in the middle of the night because she is becoming aware of ontological thoughts and feelings; she knows they are important, powerful, and good; but she doesn’t know what to make of them. At the ontological state she is passing through, Graham represents something much bigger and deeper in her life, but she doesn’t understand what that something is, other than being drawn to it.

She may think that a part of her may love Graham in some way or that a part of her may be attracted to him sexually. But she is also aware that the feelings she has for him are, before everything else, something beyond sexual and something beyond what is usually thought of as love.

In the café Ann and Graham were engaged in what might be called “ontological flirting”: two people who are aware of the realself in each other enjoying the pleasure of being that self with someone they like. But when Ann looks at Graham in the middle of the night, she is unconsciously taking her first steps forward as an adult woman in developing a conscious, realself-to-realself relationship with a man.

In the past, almost all the people who started increasing their degrees of realself did not know that the realself, realself-to-realself relationships, and realself life exist. These people were drawn forward by their wakening realselves, but consciously they didn’t have any idea what was ahead of them ontologically.

Ann, in Sex, Lies, and Videotape, was in this ontological state in the days after she talked with Graham in the café. Before she met him she had told her therapist she wasn’t very happy about one of her husband’s college friends coming to visit. But later, after she has met Graham, she talks about him with her therapist:

Therapist: Did you confront John about the visitor?

Ann: The visitor?

Therapist: The friend of John’s that was staying at your house.

Ann: Graham.

Therapist: Graham.

Ann: Yeah. I mean … no. That actually turned out to be interesting. You know, I was expecting him to be just like John. You know, cos they went to school together and everything. You know, talking about getting drunk together and secret handshakes and … He turned out to be really this … character. He’s kind of arty. But OK.

Therapist: Is he still at your house?

Ann: No. No. No. He’s gone.

Even though consciously she didn’t understand what was taking place ontologically, in the café Ann got caught up in the pleasure of talking with someone with whom she could have more of a realself-to-realself relationship than she was having within anyone else, and that made her conversation with Graham exciting and enjoyable. He was being his realself somewhat with her, and by his doing that she was able to be more of her realself with him.

Ann is sensitive enough to her realself to think that her relationship with Graham is “interesting.” And after he finds a residence of his own, she has a chance to think about him, the type of man he is, and the kind of relationship she might have with him. One of the main reasons she thinks he is interesting is that on some level she is beginning to move from the spontaneous and unexamined realself-to-realself relationship she had with him in the café to a deeper, more considered, and more conscious realself-to-realself relationship with him.

At a future time Ann tells Graham, “You’ve had an effect on my life,” (which will be the subject of another post) and the effect he has on her is in his showing her that she has and can be a deeper self within her, and she can also have the deeper and more intimate relationships that come with that self.

In Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Ann and Graham are talking in a café, and Ann tells Graham “something personal”:

Ann: I think that, um … I think that sex is overrated. I think that people place far too much importance on it. And I think that stuff about women wantin’ it just as bad as men is crap. I think they want it, I just don’t think they want it for the reason men think they do.

I’m getting confused.

Ann is starting to think of sex in new way. Many people consider it to be just a physical or biological drive and activity, and maybe in the past Ann accepted that definition of it. But now she is starting to sense that sex should be something else, something more. Sex as strictly a physical act is becoming “overrated” for her because once one begins to get a sense of one’s realself and of realself-to-realself relationships, socialself sex starts losing its appeal.

Ann, however, is still in the beginning Transition, and so she says “I’m getting confused.” It takes a while to figure all this ontological stuff out.

The conversation continues. Graham says that he was in therapy, it didn’t work for him, and

Graham: So I just formed my own theory that you should never take advice from someone that doesn’t know you intimately.

Ann: Well, I know my therapist intimately.

Graham: You’ve had sex with your therapist?

Ann: No! No. No.

Graham: Oh, no, I’m sorry. That’s what I meant. Somebody you’ve had sex with.

Ann: Oh.

…

Ann: So, let me see. You said, um … you said that I should never take advice from someone that I haven’t had sex with, right?

Graham: Basically.

Ann: Right. And, uh, we haven’t had sex. Right?

Graham: No.

Ann: So I guess from your own advice, I shouldn’t take your advice.

Graham: I wouldn’t.

Ann: You wouldn’t? OK.

Most of the conversations ontologically sensitive people have with others stop at the surface of the people they are talking to because that is where the self, the socialself, the other people are being is located. Occasionally, though, an ontologically sensitive person will meet another ontologically sensitive person, and the conversation may move almost immediately to deeper levels within each of them.

This appears to be happening with Ann and Graham. Graham is at a deeper degree of realself, and he communicates from that deeper level. But for Ann, talking more from who she is sensing she truly is and talking on a deeper ontological level to another person, and to a man, is something new.

Her relationship with Graham started innocently enough: Graham used to be her husband’s good friend, and Graham has dinner at Ann’s house and stays there a few nights. All of this made it possible for her to become aware of Graham in a realself way, without her ever feeling pushed or pulled in that direction by anyone.

Without really thinking about it, she finds herself talking to someone and developing a deeper ontological relationship without her really being aware that that is what the relationship is developing into.

And she does like her developing friendship with Graham, as shown by her giggling when she says “And, uh, we haven’t had sex. Right?”

So at this stage of her ontological life, on the one hand Ann says sex is “overrated,” and on the other hand she laughs with pleasure and deepening friendship when she says to Graham “we haven’t had sex. Right?”

When talking to socialself people and decreasing realself people, the increasing realself person gets the sense that the conversation with them stops at the surface of their skin, and the person senses this because ontologically that is where the self of socialself people and decreasing realself people is located. But in talking with increasing realself people one gets the definite sense that one is talking to a self that is deeper within them, because that is where the self they are being is located.

Realself life and everything that goes with it is better than socialself life in countless ways, and one of these ways is that realself-to-realself relationships give increasing realself people an opportunity to be more their realselves with someone, which they want, enjoy, and need.

A good example of this developing relationship is in Sex, Lies, and Videotape when, after knowing Graham for only about a day, Ann asks him a question while they are in a café:

Ann: Can I tell you something personal?

Graham: It’s up to you. Can I tell you something personal?

Ann: Yeah. Yeah.

Graham: Well, you gotta go first.

Ann: OK.

…

Ann: So, are you gonna tell me something personal?

Graham: Do you want me to?

Ann: Yeah. Yeah, I do. I don’t want it to be something gross, about some scar. I want it to be something really personal, about yourself.

Graham: All right. OK.

Ann enthusiastically says “yeah” four times when Graham asks if he can tell her something “personal,” and the question immediately comes to mind, why was she so enthusiastic? She sounds almost like a naïve teenager who has never before talked to anyone in a personal way.

She knows from experience that she can’t have a “personal” talk with her husband. But even though she has known Graham for only a day, she senses that maybe she can be “personal” with him.

Ontologically, there is a big differences between the “personal” talk from one’s socialself and the “personal” talk from one’s realself. LBJ lifted up his shirt and showed his appendectomy scar to the world, and for some people doing that would be considered personal. But this isn’t the kind of personal that Ann and Graham both have in mind. They use the word “personal,” but they really mean something more in the lines of “Can I be more my realself with you?”

Ann has had the growing sense that she wants to and needs to talk to someone in a “really personal” way, and she thinks that maybe she has finally met someone with whom she can have that relationship—someone she can to talk to in a way other than in the usual, on-the-surface, socialself way. She knows she can’t do that with her husband or sister, and even though she probably talks to her therapist in more of a “personal” way, the relationship she has with him isn’t the same as having a realself-to-realself relationship with someone one likes, is attracted to, and maybe even loves.

Most of the people who increase their degrees of realself start from the socialself world, being mostly their socialselves, and having mostly socialself-to-socialself relationships. Biographies show that there are a few people who apparently had a strong sense of their realselves for as long as they can remember, but most people start out life as the self of the ontological world they were “thrown into,” the socialself world.

In Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Graham meets Ann for the first time at her house, and they sit in her living room and talk:

Graham: How do you like being married?

Ann: I like it just fine.

Graham: What about it do you like? I … I don’t mean to be critical. I’m curious.

Ann: No, no, no, no. That’s OK. Uh …Well … you know the cliché about the security of it? Well, that’s true. And, um, we own this house. It’s a nice house. And … John was just made junior partner, and I really like that. You know, I like the fact that he’s just not, you know, freelance or whatever.

After hearing Ann’s description of her marriage, the first thing that strikes one is that she never mentions anything about her love for her husband or the deepening of their relationship. Everything she says about her marriage might be described as non-ontological, which puts it right in the heart of the socialself world.

Ann does at the time suspect her husband of cheating, and that undoubtedly tones down her description of her marriage. She has also just met Graham, and it’s probably natural for people now to be hesitant in describing the ontological depth of their marital relationship with someone they have just met.

The day-to-day world now, as it has always been, is a socialself world, and because of this almost all of us begin our lives being the self of that world, a socialself. Ann is being mostly her socialself, and she thinks about her marriage in mostly a socialself world way.

But she is also in the beginning Transition, as shown by her thoughts about “garbage,” even though she doesn’t appear to be actively increasing her degree of realself. She is aware of thoughts that are coming to her from her realself, but she has not yet focused on them and started moving in their direction.

One can tell from her description of her marriage that her relationship with her husband isn’t close ontologically, and from just the information here she may be OK with that and maybe she isn’t. Her response is a small piece of information that insightful people might store in the back of their minds, with the knowledge that what she says might mean something ontologically and then again it might mean nothing. There’s too little information to say for sure.

Ontologically, there’s not much to say about her marriage at this stage—it isn’t that different from millions of other socialself-to-socialself marriages—and I mention it mainly to show Ann’s degree of realself at the start of the movie.

On first hearing about them, some ontologically insensitive people may think that the socialself is the same as the realself, only a little deeper. This is not true. The two selves are structured differently, and because of their different structures they perceive themselves and all of human life and existence in different ways. The socialself has a strong ego boundary around it, and because of it all of the healthy people in the socialself world have come to believe that good people have only good qualities within them, and it’s only bad people who see negative, unpleasant, harmful, sick, or evil qualities within themselves.

This delusion then ends up reinforcing our alienation because as people start to increase their degrees of realself and thin their ego boundaries they see qualities within themselves they don’t like or think are wrong. They then repress these qualities because of the belief that only bad people have them, and they go back to being their “healthy” socialself, all the while never becoming conscious of the fact that they have also repressed what may be their only chance of ever living human life as it is supposed to be lived.

Turning to the movie Sex, Lies, and Videotape, it begins with Ann telling her therapist what she has been thinking about:

Ann: Garbage. All I’ve been thinking about all week is garbage. I can’t stop thinking about it.

Therapist: What kind of thoughts about garbage?

Ann: I just … I’ve gotten real concerned over what’s gonna happen with all the garbage. I mean, we’ve got so much of it. You know? I mean, we have to run out of places to put this stuff eventually. …

Therapist: Do you have any idea what may have triggered this concern?

Ann: Yeah. Yeah. You see, the other night John was taking out the garbage, and he kept spilling things out of the container, and that made me … I started imagining, like, a garbage can that produces garbage. And it doesn’t stop, it keeps producing garbage. And it keeps overflowing. And, you know, what would you do to try to stop something like that?

Several thoughts come to mind about Ann’s comment:

• She has been looking into herself, and she senses qualities there she doesn’t like, which at her present ontological state she calls “garbage.”
• She is beginning to sense what a realself-to-realself relationship and life in the realself world might be like, and this awareness makes her think that the overflowing garbage is coming out of John because of his socialself talk and his socialself relationship with her
• She may also feel that the garbage is overflowing into the world as a whole, which is more of a subset of her feeling that the garbage is in her: she may be feeling that the day-to-day world is wrong in some way, that it is “garbage.”

It’s impossible to say for sure which of these is right, it’s probably some of all three. But this statement by Ann does show that she is in the beginning Transition, and therefore her “garbage” problem is not a psychological problem, but an ontological one.

As people increase their degrees of realself even more, they become aware of even worse qualities within themselves, and so they might start describing themselves, others, or the world as “full of crap” or “rotten to the core.” But this will be the subject of another post.

Recently I saw Steven Soderbergh’s 1989 film Sex, Lies, and Videotape for the first time. I’ve never paid much attention to movies in the past, but as much as I can recall now Sex, Lies is the most ontologically sensitive and insightful movie I have ever seen.

I’m going to use it as the framework to explain a wide range of mostly increasing realself ideas and emotions, in a series that might eventually be more than 25 posts. Many of the posts here so far have pointed out why it is wrong to reject one’s realself and realself life. But for the first decade I spent thinking about ontology, I spent very little time thinking about people who had stopped increasing their degrees of realself, other than noticing that they had and the reasons for it.

Realself ontology is about increasing one’s degree of realself, and that’s what increasing realself people spend their time doing; they shouldn’t get side-tracked by all the people who aren’t having much success ontologically.

Getting back to the movie, in most cases the four main characters respond as men and women who are at their degrees of realself would respond, but in a few places I thought, “someone at that degree of realself would never say that (or do that).”

Graham (James Spader) is at the highest degree of realself of the four, and he says what may be the quintessential ontological statement: “I don’t have the slightest idea who I am.” Obviously, Graham has not reached the degree of realself where he has become fully conscious of his realself’s existence within himself, but he is still much more his realself than the others.

Ann (Andie MacDowell) is the most interesting of the four because throughout the film she shows, by far, the greatest increase in degree of realself. Most of the future posts will be about her and will explain what she is experiencing ontologically.

Cynthia’s (Laura San Giacomo) degree of realself is harder to pin down: sometimes she appears to be mostly her socialself or even a decreasing realself, but at other times she shows that she is sensitive to realself emotions and thoughts.

John (Peter Gallagher) is being his socialself almost entirely, and if he experiences any changes ontologically they will probably be in the direction of his decreasing his degree of realself even more.

The posts in this series will have their own tag, “Sex Lies and Videotape” (without the commas), and so in the future if anyone wants to find all of them, use that tag in the list in the right sidebar. For new readers of these posts, the definitions of many of the terms, such as “socialself ”and “degrees of realself,” are in the Ontological Glossary.

Most people don’t have any idea what a realself ontology emotion or idea is. Because of this, I’m going to explain these emotions and ideas when I see them expressed in movies.

In The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Dr. Miles J. Bennell says “I never knew fear until I kissed Becky.” This fear is a classic ontological emotion, and it comes from the fear of being one’s realself with another person and from being one’s realself in the day-to-day world.

Men and women have this ontological fear because they think their realself is wrong and vulnerable and because we all know that we are not suppose to be our realselves in the day-to-day world now, which is a socialself world.

Miles was sensitive enough ontologically to have realself emotions, and he loved Becky from his realself. But if he had loved her from his socialself and wanted nothing more than a socialself-to-socialself relationship with her, he wouldn’t have had any fear about kissing her because he wouldn’t have been committing anything ontologically.

Incidentally, this ontological emotion in Miles is another reason to think that this movie is actually about ontological emotions and ideas and not about communism. I’m going to read the novel this movie is based on, to see if the ontological insight in this movie was added by the novel’s author or by the movie’s screenwriter.

And finally, sex is a realself event, which means that men and women become more their realselves when they have sex, even though they are probably not be conscious of the fact that they are. This added to Miles’ fear of kissing Becky, but this is a subject for future posts.

Last night on tv a woman on the program CSI: NY said about the man who had raped her: “He stole my soul.” This statement by her shows that she was sensitive ontologically, but she wasn’t insightful ontologically, and she needed to understand two important facts about her sexual assault.

First of all, in all of my explorations of what is in us, I have never found or seen any trace of a soul, as such, but we definitely have a being—or as I often call it a realself–within each of us. When ontologically insightful people look in to the deepest depth within themselves, the self they sense or see there is their realself. And it was this self the woman was thinking about when she referred to her “soul” as being stolen. Even though she wasn’t conscious of it, she intuitively knew that her rape had reached who she was before everything else, her realself, and she used the best term she knew to describe it.

The second point she needed to understand is that sex is a realself event. I know, there are many cases where men and women have socialself-to-socialself sex, and their relationship is as superficial and shallow as they can make it. (Much more could be said about socialself-to-socialself sex, but I won’t go into it now.) But for couples who are ontologically sensitive and love each other, sex is very much a realself-to-realself event, and the realself component in it is what gives their sexual activity most of its excitement and pleasure. These men and women open their ego boundaries to each other, to one degree or another, and by doing this they make their sexual activity a sensuous blending of beings and bodies.

The down side to all of this is that when an ontologically sensitive woman is raped, the sexual activity of the attack makes the rape an ontological activity, because of this she became more her realself during it, and by doing this she makes it possible for the man to gain a much greater access to her realself, which under almost every other circumstance she would have much more control in preventing him from reaching that part of her. But by being raped, just because of what sex is ontologically, she was forced to let him reach the very best part of her, her realself, and by doing that he was, in her mind, able to damage or diminish her realself in some way. (Much more could be said about why she thinks she and her realself have been damaged or diminished, but, again, that will be for a later time.)

As for the rapist, possibly a large part of the reason he raped the woman was because of the ontological emotions involved. If it were strictly a matter of releasing his sexual tension, he would have been able to do that by himself. But by raping the woman, he was able to reach more of her realself, this made it possible for him to become more his realself with her, and doing this made it possible for him to gratify an ontological desire or need that he may not have been able to satisfy in any other way. His desire for this ontological gratification may in fact have been the sole reason for his committing the assault.

As always, we all need to increase our degrees of realself so that we can start to understand what is driving us and what we are striving to reach.