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.

In Sex, Lies, and Videotape Cynthia goes over to Graham’s apartment, partly to meet him and partly to find out what “spooked” Ann during her last visit. Soon after Cynthia arrives Graham asks her if she would like to make a videotape, she agrees, and by her own choice she masturbates on film during the interview.

After the filming Cynthia goes home and calls John at his office:

I want to see you.

John: Ah. When?

Cynthia: Right now.

John: I don’t know if I can do that. I got a client waiting. I’ve already rescheduled him once. I’d have to do some heavy-duty juggling.

Cynthia: Then get those balls in the air and get your butt over here.

John goes over to Cynthia’s place, they have very passionate sex, and immediately after they finish John says

You’re on fire today.

to which Cynthia harshly replies

Yes. … You can go now.

Ontologically, the interesting part about all of this is that Cynthia becomes more her realself during the filming, which brings up two important questions: Why did she become more her realself during the filming and Why did that make her more lustful?

As noted earlier, sex is a realself event, and so people become more their realselves when they become sexually aroused or have sex, whether they are conscious of their ontological change or not. Graham is being much more his realself than Cynthia is being hers, and so just by the way he talks to her about sex—the tone of voice he uses, his choice of words, his body language, the self he is being while talking to her—all of these contribute to his reaching her realself and to his helping her become as much of her realself as she is able to be at the time.

Cynthia is very lustful—she is “on fire”—after the filming because her conversation with Graham has made her become more her realself; because of this when she has sex with John she is being much more realself than her socialself; and this shift to greater ontological authenticity explains her greater sexual passion and intensity and her greater desire for it. Sex is much better for a person when the person is the one who is having the sex, as compared to when the person is acting as someone else who is having the sex.

As a side note, Cynthia’s character doesn’t appear to be as accurately drawn ontologically as Graham’s, Ann’s, and John’s characters. Most of what Graham, Ann, and John say and do rings true for the degree of realself they are each being, but Cynthia sometimes says and does things that seem to represent a much greater degree of realself than she is being at the time. For example, she becomes more her realself during the filming, and this greatly increases her desire to have sex. But an important part of her desire to have sex in this circumstance would be to have realself-to-realself sex and not the realself-to-socialself she knows she will have with John.

Cynthia isn’t an increasing realself person; rather, she is someone who appears to have innate ontological sensitivity and insight, but who hasn’t started increasing her degree of realself. If she is looked at in this way, her character makes more sense: she may be a socialself person within whom her realself is just starting to wake up; it is just starting to make her aware of realself thoughts and emotions; and she hasn’t started to reconcile all of her socialself and realself thoughts and emotions.

Number 13 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.

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?”

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.

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.

This post is a reply to a poster who had written that, among other reasons, he didn’t like R. D. Laing because he wrote some of his books mainly for the money, he had sex with numerous women, he had sex with some of his patients, and so on. The poster also quoted William S. Burroughs in his post: “By their fruits ye shall know them, not by their disclaimers.”

When I read your thoughts about Laing I first thought that you hold people up to a high ethical and moral standard. But thinking about it later, I wasn’t so sure. You quote William Burroughs without qualification, but he did have his questionable activities: he was addicted to heroin; he sold heroin; he forged doctors’ prescriptions; he cut off the end of his finger to prove something to a man he was infatuated with; he shot his ex-wife in the head and killed her when he was doing a William Tell stunt; he escaped to Mexico to keep from going to prison in the US; and, after the statue of limitations ended, he escaped back to the US to keep from going to jail/prison in Mexico.

Laing certainly had his problems, but I don’t think his writing books for money was that big of a misdeed. Someone once observed that “women like to have sexual intercourse with famous men,” and Laing did avail himself of some of these women, but, again, I’m not sure that that was that bad of a misdeed. The times were different then, a lot of men have done it, and Laing comes no where close to men such as Keith Richards and his claimed 2,000+ women. Laing’s having sex with his women patients is in a different category altogether, of course, but I would like to know more about the circumstances.

As I was reading your thoughts about Laing, it occurred to me several times that you weren’t just listing his misdeeds, but you were in some way personally offended by them. Perhaps this comes from your interest in psych, and Laing represents the psych community.

But I also wondered if your feelings might be partly ontological. I don’t think you are the kind of person I describe in the next two paragraphs, but there is probably a measure of this type of person in all of us, with the amount diminishing as we move forward.

Some people are more sensitive ontologically than they would like to be, and when they look into themselves they see what they believe are ugly and terrible qualities. (If these people were to understand these qualities better, they would see that these qualities are just potentials within all of us and do not represent who we truly are.) In response to these qualities, some of these people turn away from what they see, and these people go on to hate the true self and everyone they think has anything to do with it.

If these people happen to read TDS [The Divided Self], they sense what it represents ontologically. And a few of these people will say, correctly, “Laing wants us to become more our true self, but I am afraid to do that.” Others, though, will say instead “Laing was an SOB who was screwing his women patients right and left!” The two advantages of saying this is that it puts the focus away from who one truly is, and it also sabotages the very idea of becoming who we are. A young woman might read TDS and say, “I think Laing might have some good ideas.” Someone else then says, “Do you really want to follow the advise of a PATIENT-SCREWER!?” She replies, “no, I guess not,” and she stops striving to become her true self.

I do have a suggestion for you: Turn your view around from looking forward out through your eyes to looking inward to the deepest location within you–to your “heart of hearts” and your innermost self. After you do this, don’t remain on the outside looking in, but take a step forward by acknowledging that the self that is there is, at least in part, who you are. You might ask questions such as Why am I not being that self completely? What are its beliefs and feelings, and why do they seem different from the beliefs and feelings I have in my daily life? Which self is more “me”? Will I become a better or worse person as I become more that self?

After you have thought about these kinds of questions enough to get the lay of the land of where you are and where you are going, look to the far horizon ahead of you. After you get to that horizon, look ahead again to your new far horizon, go there, and then do this a third time. When you finally reach the third far horizon, take a look around, and what you will find is . . . Laing.

This is why Laing is important, the ontological insights he has into who we really are and why we do some of the things we do. It is true–a person can understand Laing only as well as that person understands himself or herself. And this is what it takes to achieve this understanding.

Kind regards,

Scott