#esther perel

[lettersxcaffeine]

“Even if you decide to stay, you may do so while at the same time having a part of you that actually holds the other side. [Thinking that the] decision is 100% perfect— no doubt, no hesitation— [is unlikely.] You need to be able to leave while experiencing the loss of some things that may have been good, even if it’s just a dream of what was. If you stay, you have to be able to grieve the part of you that will never know what it would have been like if you actually left.  Every choice comes with loss. The consequence is the choice you didn’t make.” Esther Perel

[justascribbla]

Our desires, even our most illicit ones, are a feature of our humanity.

Esther Perel.

[grlbts]

Modern loneliness masks itself as hyper connectivity. And so people have easily 1000 virtual friends, but no one they can ask to feed their cat. That loneliness, which is really a depletion of the social capital, is extremely powerful. […]

Esther Perel

[a-little-something-beautiful]

[chasingfaithandlove]

It’s a verb. That’s the first thing. It’s an active engagement with all kinds of feelings—positive ones and primitive ones and loathsome ones. But it’s a very active verb. And it’s often surprising how it can kind of ebb and flow. It’s like the moon. We think it’s disappeared, and suddenly it shows up again. It’s not a permanent state of enthusiasm. I’m thirty-five years in a relationship, I practice. And I have two boys—I practice. It’s not just romantic love.

Love Is Not a Permanent State of Enthusiasm: An Interview with Esther Perel

[albertayebisackey]

"The quality of our connections determines the quality of our lives." - Esther Perel

[theregencyreticule]

"There is nothing lonelier than the loneliness that you feel when you are next to someone with whom you think that you once did not feel lonely"

Esther Perel

"The Erotic is an Antidote to Death" The On Being Podcast

[denimbex1986]

'“This is a love story”, says Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s protagonist in the opening lines of Fleabag’s (2016-2019) second season, before all-but-breaking the Internet with the introduction of Andrew Scott’s Hot Priest in the episodes that follow. She utters these words to us, her eager audience, the blood that she’d been wordlessly cleaning up from her nose still drying, no context given. Scott’s Hot Priest, as the Internet has since baptised him, is heard as a disembodied voice from afar. His character’s place in our hearts comes as unexpectedly as the place he subsequently gains in Fleabag’s. This, too, is a love story. A love story between Scott and his many faces, between Scott as one of the most celebrated actors today, and us, his loyal following.

The Meet Cute

Andrew Scott has been set to mend hearts since day one. Born in 1976 in Dublin, he was brought up by an art teacher mother and a father who worked at a youth employment agency. He describes his Irishness in the form of a good measure of Catholic guilt as well as a strong and specific Irish sense of humour and eagerness to talk to people. With the support of his mother, he began attending acting classes in an effort to get rid of his childhood lisp. Despite being a shy kid, he took to the medium almost immediately, acting in TV commercials, portraying the most tragic of Shakespearian heroes in youth theatre productions, and even playing the Tin Man, who he aptly describes as ‘the guy with the heart’, in The Wizard of Oz at age 10.

Fast forward a few years, he is 17, forced to make a decision which will come to define his life and career. On the same day, he receives both a scholarship to study painting at art school and an offer to star in the independent Irish war film Korea (1995). After wrapping up on the film, he attempts studying once more, this time beginning an academic Drama course at Trinity College Dublin, the alma mater of his future co-star Paul Mescal. He shortly drops out, drawn to dreams of taking on the stage over learning about its theory in lecture halls.

So, our meet cute with Scott happens in the theatre, the affinity with which he has maintained to present-day. He describes stage acting using wonderfully-fitting cardiac imagery: ‘It goes directly into your veins. It’s pure. You start at the beginning of the story and you go through to the end.’ Most of Scott’s early career pans out on the stage. After dropping out of university, he joins Dublin’s Abbey Theatre for six months before moving to London at 22, where he graces the UK’s theatrical nucleus with roles in Conor McPherson’s Dublin Carol and Joe Hill-Gibbins’ A Girl in a Car with a Man at the Royal Court Theatre.

He gathers momentum as a theatre actor, working with acclaimed director Sam Mendes on The Vertical Hour and, most recently, taking on lead roles on the West End’s most famous stages in Hamlet, Present Laughter, and a one-man adaptation of the Chekhov tragedy Vanya. Scott has spoken about the exhilaration of creating a microcosm in which anything is possible for a few hours, explaining the theatre as ‘an art form that is ephemeral’. He feels this excitement through his actor’s eyes as well as his viewers who become enraptured with his every move.

His screen debut as the lead of Cathal Black’s Korea (which Scott maintains no one has ever seen so it doesn’t really count) marks the beginning of his relationship to the world of the screen. His first few screen roles are all in war films, from his one-line-long moment of fame in Spielberg’s 1998 Saving Private Ryan (he is credited as ‘Soldier on the Beach’ no less) to Band of Brothers (2001) and 1917 (2019). But surrounding himself with weapons and violence did not come naturally to the actor; ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter’, he jokes. So, he remains a heart-mender at his core.

Did you Miss Me?

It was the hearts of the masses that Scott won on the 8th of August 2010, following the release of Steven Moffat’s and Mark Gatiss’ TV phenomenon Sherlock’s first season finale. Whilst this was well over a decade ago, the world has still not recovered from Scott’s debut as sexy, playful, devilish baddie Jim Moriarty. Sherlock became, for its loyal fanbase of ‘Cumberbitches’ including my own teenage self, a religion in its own right. I endlessly rewatched the sparse selection of movie-long episodes, committing all iconic lines to memory for future quoting to my middle-school friendship group. The show’s force was undoubtedly fed by Scott’s unforgettable performance as Moriarty, who would become one of the most recognisable TV villains of the century. Scott’s face became synonymous with catchphrases like ‘IOU’ and ‘did you miss me?’. He describes the almost overnight change where he went from peacefully riding the tube and walking around London to having his photo secretly taken by fans in public and being given CDs of fan-made videos shipping Moriarty and Sherlock (Benedict Cumberbatch) as initially freaky, even odd, but also says that it doesn’t bother him now.

I Love You. It’ll Pass.

Perhaps the Sherlock fanbase was good practice for the still larger, more explosive Internet phenomenon that Scott was about to become the centre of. Hot Priest could never have existed without Scott. Literally, because Phoebe Waller-Bridge, whom Scott calls ‘one of my main homies’, wrote the character specially for him. The pair’s bond spans a good 15 years of friendship. Waller-Bridge has nothing but praise for her old friend, describing him at once as ‘an absolute pixie of mischief’ and someone who ‘can stop time with his honesty’.

What made us fall in love with Hot Priest was less the Catholic guilt that haunts so many of us (though apparently Scott’s performance led directly to an increase in searches of religious porn by a whopping 162 percent) and more the sheer honesty that emanated from his performance. At its core, the love story between Fleabag and Hot Priest is one that ends with no ‘happily ever after’ in spite of all the love that is left lingering. Beneath the endlessly-memefied closing sequence at the bus stop by night (you remember the one) lies such a raw yet universal experience of love which we can all connect to. We can’t always be with the person we love, whether that is because the world doesn’t accept our love, or because the practical rhythms of adult life get in the way. ‘Not all love stories end the same way’, Scott reminds us.

Scott has stated countless times that his most recent roles have all been punctuated by a certain humanity. Though the name Andrew Scott has become synonymous with the image of the screen villain – think Jim Moriarty, the Bond franchise’s C, Tom Ripley in Steven Zaillian’s adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s novel, and O’Brien in the 75th-anniversary audiobook of Orwell’s 1984 – Scott vehemently opposes labels such as ‘troubled’, ‘psychopath’ and ‘villain’ when describing his darker roles. His true mastery of the roles comes from the humanity he extends to such outsider characters. For what emerges from his darkest performances is a fervent empathy, an extended arm, an understanding that life beyond the margins is lonely, difficult to survive, and that we all deserve to be loved. Scott seeks to understand his characters’ natures before their actions, to see the three-dimensional life in them. As he so wonderfully puts it in relation to his latest venture into darkness, ‘there’s Tom Ripley in all of us’.

You Are Always on My Mind

Such an understanding of the outsider shines through Scott’s latest cinematic masterpiece as the lead of Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers (2023). Scott plays so subtly with the transcendental loneliness that emanates from the film. He describes feeling the importance of the film as both his first substantial lead role and simultaneously a queer role, revealing that he wore some of his own clothes in the film and often phoned his parents and siblings to ask about details of his own childhood in the 80s. Whilst he tapped into his own experiences growing up as a queer person – homosexuality wasn’t decriminalised in Ireland until 1993 – in a profoundly-personal way, Scott nonetheless maintains that his process as an actor in the film was founded on an exploration which transcends his queer identity.

Scott has expressed his ambivalence at being pigeonholed into the ‘gay actor’ category in the past. Sure, he has provided our community with some of the most sensitive performances in queer cinema this century, from Welshman and owner of the Gay’s The Word bookshop Gethin Roberts in Matthew Warchus’s Pride (2014) to All of Us Strangers and now Ripley. But there is another not-so-positive side to this labelling. The BBC recently faced backlash following a BAFTA red carpet interview with Scott in which the reporter implied that Scott had seen Barry Keoghan’s genitalia and knew how big it was. Speaking about the slew of questions he incessantly faces about his sexuality in the press, Scott argues that ‘the problem is it becomes your schtick. Frankly, I feel like I’ve got just a bit more to offer than that.’

In fact, a running theme of many of Scott’s forays with the press is this sense of profound sincerity. Rather than sprinting through the Q&A format, Scott often asks back as many questions as he answers, and we can imagine the glint in his eye and half-smirk forming on his lips as he does so, feeling like he is breaking the rules of conventional stardom. He has maintained a certain boy-next-door energy; he even describes his dress sense as that of an ‘11-year-old’: scuffed trainers, colourful T-shirt, hoodie, and all. He has often expressed a desire to talk to his fans rather than be the object to their secret photos of him on the tube and in Tesco’s. Even though we must steer clear of the parasocial relationships that often plague such iconic figures as Scott, there is nonetheless an undeniable feeling that he lets us know him, just a little, and that little has become all-too-rare in the age of untouchable stardom and TikTok fame. Yes, he was GQ’s Man of the Year in 2023, and yes, he is an absolute fanboy of Taylor Swift. The two can coexist, he shows.

Scott is a lover of art in whatever form. Despite turning down the art school offer, he frequently draws strangers in the tube and attends life-drawing classes. He is also interested in philosophy, gushing about his experience attending an Alain de Botton talk on loneliness and the importance of Esther Perel’s writing about relationships in his approach to acting and life itself. Discussing in an interview the eerie atmosphere of his Ripley shoot, which occurred between Italy and America during the pandemic, he veers into a conversation on the importance of art in the midst of loneliness, grief, and love. His words dig to the core of our own love affair with him and his plethora of relatable, human performances. ‘As human beings, we tell stories’, he says. ‘Expert storytellers are really vital. No, it’s not brain surgery. But, “Hearts starve as well as bodies. Give us bread, but give us roses.” I love that quote.’ It is through his storytelling that Andrew Scott has won our hearts. Our love story with him may have been a slow burn, but it’s only just beginning.'

[modelcoutureee]

[soulinkpoetry]

Self-love is less about the ability to withstand loneliness or establish independence and more about awareness and acceptance of our incompleteness. It’s about letting others love us even when we feel unlovable because their version of us is often kinder than our own.

• — Esther Perel

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[vasilinaorlova]

Have we talked about Esther Perel's marvelous red chair? That as a psychotherapist she has this red chair which is, incidentally, a jewel of furniture design, makes sense to me. She makes perfect sense speaking about the theater and her office of a psychotherapist. If I ever have a private practice with its own office (as opposed to doing my coaching or therapy sessions online), I would make sure I have one of those rare chairs (maybe not the same particular model Perel has, which, by the way, is called a womb chair). I also jokingly said to my girlfriends on multiple occasions that I would put a portrait of Freud onto the wall. To the idea of putting Freud on the wall those of my girlfriends who happen to have Ph.D.s in psychology strongly opposed. For sure, Freud can and should be criticized for a lot, and nobody who read Freud in our anthropology or philosophy seminars liked him also, but Freud was also the one who called attention to the inner life of the soul and paid scientific attention to dreams rather than dismissing and relegating the area of dream analysis to fortune tellers, and, finally, Freud was a beautiful and compelling writer even when what he wrote was not what we would accept. I think we don't need to agree with what writers say to enjoy the form in which they put their thoughts. In short, I am still tempted by the idea of a Freud's portrait and some fancy chair in my imaginary physical office. Judge me, but I would totally put a recamier sofa in my office as well! I said what I said 😆

[eelhound]

"If love is an act of imagination, then intimacy is an act of fruition. It waits for the high to subside so it can patiently insert itself into the relationship. The seeds of intimacy are time and repetition. We choose each other again and again, and so create a community of two."

- Esther Perel, from Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence, 2006.

[canticleofcanticlesforleibowitz]

Was it Esther Perel who said:

The first couple of times someone lies to you, they'll probably feel guilty about it, but the longer they do it and get away with it, the more they'll start to blame you for it. Your blatant ignorance makes you complicit. If you're blind to it long enough, eventually they'll see you as deserving it. ?

It's a universal truth kind of observation, but I think I heard it from Esther first.

[valsedelesruines]

No matter what I do, I'll never be able to be quick to socialize with new people, I'll always be quiet in large groups, I'll take far too long to feel comfortable around a friend, and I'll fumble my words so that I misrepresent what I'm ultimately trying to say. I feel as though I portray a cool, relaxed demeanour, but deep down, I'm that same awkward, annoying kid who couldn't quite keep up with what everyone else was doing. For the most part, I accept it. I enjoy being on my own, I prefer quality over quantity of friends, and I am perfectly fine with the fact that not everyone will like me. But I do wish I were better at asking the right questions and listening at the right times.

My driver tonight had blue dreadlocks, was anxious about driving in the rain, and was engaged two days ago. She was a recovering addict and something about her reminded me of my sister (who has been on my mind a lot lately because I'm starting to realize how much I love her). Something about how she would constantly say "you know what I mean" and the smell of her car brought me back to the conversations I used to have. Something about the resemblance made me ask, "Do you mind if I ask? At what point did you know you needed help?" She told me when her three kids were taken away. Rock bottom. In the span of one car ride, I watched this woman overfilled with joy and on the verge of tears. The taxi is one of the better platforms for forming a connection through conversation and often under 30 minutes.

Tonight, my doctor was on the flight with me. He's a man I see every week, probably around my father's age, and has a slight limp. His wife passed away suddenly two weeks ago, and before then, he would often hang up the phone with her during visits, saying, "Goodbye, my love." It's hard for me to talk to someone who's lost someone because it's so sad. It makes me think of losing Will, which makes me think that no amount of time in life will ever be enough to spend with him. Then I kick myself for not appreciating the time I have with him now, with everyone I love now, including myself at 25 and the life I'm living. I watched a video on loss recently that quoted Einstein: "people like us who believe in physics know that the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." I want to tell my doctor that. I want to share with him that because maybe it will reassure him that as long as he's here that his love with her still exists. But, I know I won't say any of that because it will come out all wrong.

Esther Perel writes, "We no longer plow the land together; today we talk. We have come to glorify verbal communication. I speak; therefore I am. We naively believe that the essence of who we are is most accurately conveyed through words." I am not ashamed of my attributes, but I should not excuse them as obstacles. Maybe through practice, I can learn the tools for more effective conversation. We all could learn to listen more and ask better questions.

[themindofastrid]

🌐Recs of the Week No.6

Hello there👋🏽! Across the internet there’s a lot of awesomeness, so I decided to curate a small list of cool content that I think it’s worth sharing, I hope you find it useful, inspiring or interesting.

Thank you so much for being here♡.

Without further ado, these are my internet findings of the week:

Articles📝

Videos🎥

Podcast🎙️

IG Posts🖼️

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A post shared by SILK + SONDER (@silkandsonder)

Enjoy, xo.

[androgynousevilqueen]

"The erotic frisson is such that the kiss that you only imagine giving can be as powerful and as enchanting as hours of actual lovemaking. As Marcel Proust said, it's our imagination that is responsible for love, not the other person."

Esther Perel