Psychoanalysis Cyprus BIOBLOG

The figures in this, somehow evolutionary picture, depict in a linear and almost educational manner the growth of the brain, that is, the heart following a minimized pathway in relation to the previous organ’s megalomaniac advancement. The heart and the brain, truth be told, have nothing to do with the other symbolic organs, the Mind and the Feelings, which belong to a pneumatic body contacted of words- and the experience of the anorexic with the mirror is as example of the latter. The organism and the body belong to different dimensions of the human experience and, thus, the common misconception and binary of “either cleverness or love,” or “love is blind and beyond logic” is incorrect. It is not that one does not think logically, but, that this same person thinks within the boundaries of an incomparable logic- this variant logic, or, let us call it thinking, is not a result of the brain but of the Nous, the Mind: Lacan has answered to Chomsky, that as a doctor he has seen many electroencephalograms and that in none of them he saw the slightest thought or idea.

Love does not lose its ground because we learn or we become wise; in the times of consumption people do not know and have no place in their being for love and for answering very basic questions such as “What is it to be a human being,” and “What is it to be a man or a woman.” Love, especially in its feminine volume, can only be universal- it cannot fall or be directed with a nomination of its object: like desire, it is object-less. Actually, within the context of our era, within the constant demand of “liberal” capitalism to transubstantiate the speaking subject into an oral identification with a mouth that consumes ideals, such as more money, more sex, more enjoyment, more and more or everything, love and its metaphorical organ, the heart, can be localized outside the organism: they are geographically regionalized in the gap between knowledge and feelings, both products with phallic dimensions supported by the optic values of consumerism that favors an imaginary aspect of the human subject.

The young woman was waiting at the city’s main square, whilst the young man was carrying two bottles of water; it was hot, a blissful hot day among those described as dangerous, a dangerous bliss, felt on the body and sometimes on the soul- when he turn towards her she called him by his name and a glimpse in each other’s eyes has revealed the enigmatic space of the mystery to be unfold with them and for them; I am not sure if I should write also in front of their eyes, for, the actor never sees his own act but through the eyes of the audience. A gypsy woman, in front of the girl who almost whispered about the splendor of the gaze, of a hypostasis that is not violent to the being speaking: She has told me that saint Paraskeui is watching over me… And she said that I was in turmoil and I have found please… At that moment she has not thought of the nature of the question What is to live, if not from the turmoil towards peace: peace will be introduced, one way or another, either through desire or through two kinds of deaths, in plural: the biological one, or the living death.

The young man saw a light in her eyes, and, although the gypsy’s ways were revealed to him through that look who speaks of manipulation without words, he had to make a choice, better to say to designate his act as a man sustaining his woman’s desire: even further than this: to allow space for her faith and for that glister of a feminine illumination that manifested her spirit: he chose to silent his reason- let it be, he mumbled to himself, let us accept as true that this gypsy woman is not a manipulator but has access to a different sort of knowledge. And so the young man joined this dimension, willingly, replying to the gypsy’s prophesies with a Yes, verifying and acknowledging the correctness of her oracles, a different sort of a gaze, an almost perfect example of a Panopticon as described by Foucault. Freely, as one, as a man, ought to choose the price to pay when crossing the Rubicon with that infamous expression Alea Iacta Est: that is how men act- the price comes later but it is always too little compared to the value of the Act. This is not an example of deontology by the way.

And the gypsy woman went on, and on and on as they say, with those sort of tricks, cheap, very cheap tricks although the obols paid might have been great in numbers- those inhuman tricks that only a human being is able to manufacture, which destroy human souls if the gypsies, as prophets, have no faith to their own oracles or when the object of their speech is money: what was the purpose of that woman’s speech?

And the young man knew- and the gypsy knew that he knew by the way they have exchanged some sort of communication with their eyes, and although he knew he said nothing, because on his left and somehow in front of him – indeed these moments are junctures of diverse orientations- the young woman has been taken over by her own magic, a kind of language never spoken of and so it became a belief; he has seen her shining, honored and regaining her own gift: how could he introduce logic to these beautiful happenings of a feminine soul? These are impressive events for one to remain silent- another kind of mysticism and meditative nobleness. And so he went along and admired the gift finding its rest within the existence of the young girl; and the gypsy has taken money, a lot as she has probably thought, but nothing, absolutely nothing to what she has given back, unwillingly because this particular gypsy has never learned anything about values throughout her life: that is why she was trying to trick.

And what is a man, if not he who supports the faith to the feminine? Only a gypsy can answer this question.

“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.”

Matthew 8:18-22

And, although every demand is a demand for love, such said Lacan, somehow, the hand feeding the anorexic subject has been filled with too much love: and, yet, was it love that dressed this devilish object, this hand, or, should we ask another question on the nature and nurture of that sort of love- we can even place, gently and with good intentions, violent words on the lips of the feeder, who does not eat but feeds: “I will love you as long as you are the object of the enjoyment.” It is in this violent, almost procrustean manner that family romances are built, beyond good and evil, and at the level of a fantasy of enjoying identifications and a place for our being and body; I wrote procrustean because the subject has to lose its own desire and its own body so to serve, not difference, but the Same. The mirror never voices that it wants separation, but that it strives for unification: love can exists through difference and around a void, not opposition and identifications. For, a man tenders to reduce the woman into an object, himself to become anorexic, not to see his own desire and- and the woman, in her turn, to discover the woman through the man. None accepts to be castrated; none accepts the anxiety of what saint Francis of Assisi has exemplified as love for the universal, beyond any name, but not beyond any cause.

And that beautiful girl, anorexic towards her own desire because she has been trapped into the hysterical revolution of the truth and its exposure, a truth by which the master’s power is castrated- has spend her energy to reveal to her own father how he should have been as man, as a father; and to her mother, a man without the ability to secure the woman’s body: wrong choices they say, but, in fact they were the right ones according to this personal, very personal for each subject myth, who interprets basic questions that have never been asked- let us say not asked and not even murmured most of the times. Wrong choices- they are the right ones if one’s dedication is to prove to the father how he should have been as man: the philosopher said, that “He who lives fighting an enemy must have an interest in the preservation of the enemy’s life…” for the love of the father. The hysterical revolution aims in exposing the master, only to put another one in its place, to be exposed again, castrated- that is not the direction of desire, neither of love, no matter how much ones loves its enemies.

The young man’s flesh has been encountering the anxiety of the voice as soon as he opened his eyes; this is quite mistaken to articulate because, at nights, without him knowing it, and, whilst he was sleeping, the eyes of a fairy, of a woman who could hear the sounds of the trees and their whistling songs, have been observing the possession of his body by the same voice, a voice, though one he had never heard by his ears, neither has he ever been able to write it, or read it: she was looking at his figure shaking, trebling, a presence of some sort of an evil, to which the cure was mere love- to alter without an altar and a sacrifice the metaphor of this subject.

And the voice murmured with kindness, this time but not only once, “Shaul, Shaul: Why do you persecute me?” It could have been a thought in a wise-man’s head that this man was not nominated as Shaul, not even as Paul- the name he has received after this baptism of kindness and beauty- that the young man was made of earth and stone, hard and solid and equally dry and wet, as a soil exemplifies with its peculiar moods: but he, in all his mystification, has honoured the reversed message of a destiny, another prospect to where he will have to allocate his being, for, the things and matters of the enigma called life are unpredictable and, it happens from time to time, that flowers cultivate themselves in dehydrated topologies: these happen to be the most rare and most beautiful- certainly they are brave: almost inconceivable, almost as much as this voice vocalising him.

Under the darkness and the veil of a sorrowful night a commanding bright sun has been refined; it is light that allows one to love its own dimness and use the agony as a space for the initiative of illumination, and this is the new direction of the Drive and of the body who does not only speak, but Acts: not without the bearing of a responsibility, which is that which, at the end, assists one to arrive from the uncanny to the world: because, the world is the Scene of the kinesis of life.

And the young man replied to the voice, once it has been heard not at the level of the flesh or of the organism: “I have loved my horrors and that is why I can transubstantiate them into dreams.” It was Dolto who said that subjects ought to construct the dexterities of dignified graves for their ghosts: let it be that one walks in silence for a moment until it is recited “But my horror it is precisely that grave- I am the ghost.” It is at that point of such a realization, when the subject transliterates terror into a love letter.

Κανονική Κύπρια- με τις σπουδές της, το στυλ που διαμορφώθηκε με επιδράσεις από την Ελλάδα, την Αμερική την Αγγλία: πήρε από αυτές τις κουλτούρες οτιδήποτε ήταν βασικά κυπριακό, οτιδήποτε θα της έκτιζε ένα ομοίωμα ώστε να φτιάξει το σώμα της και τον λεγόμενο εσωτερικό κόσμο της για να προστατευτεί από το, σχεδόν παντοδύναμο, Βλέμμα: ο άλλος τρόπος είναι η κλαίουσα ταλαιπωρημένη γυναικά, σαρκικό ομοίωμα εκείνης της κούκλας νεράιδας με το κεφάλι σκυμμένο προς τα κάτω. Καθαρά, ξεκάθαρα τα λόγια της: δεν μπορώ να πω όχι στη μάνα μου, συνειδητά, και, έτσι, ανέλαβε με το να χαραμίσει την επιθυμία της, τη ζωή της όλη, στο να αφιερωθεί στην εκπλήρωση αυτής της άλλης επιθυμίας, μάλλον ας πούμε καλυτέρα της δικής της υπέρ-απόλαυσης. Το «παιδί» ήταν καλό, κανονικός κύπριος που ακριβώς αυτό ήθελε: δεν άγγιζε κανένας τον άλλο, και δεν εννοώ το σεξ, ή την πράξη αυτή κάθε αυτή· τα σώματα τους δεν επικοινωνούσαν με αυτό που θα μπορούσες να χαρακτηρίσεις σαν ισομερισμός στην επιθυμία. Καθαρά κυπριακά μαθηματικά που εξελιχτήκαν από το «γυναικά με σπίτι» και το «άντρας με λίρες» στο ακόμα χειρότερο για την ελευθερία του υποκειμένου, «είναι του στυλ μου», «του κύκλου μου»: ότι πρέπει για την εικόνα· τα σώματα και ο μύθος του πως συσχετίζεται ένα υποκείμενο με ένα άλλο χάθηκε και αντικαταστήθηκε με εξισώσεις: κανένας δεν μιλά για την αγάπη, έστω και σαν φαντασίωση, κανένας δεν θέλει να είναι τρωτός- ο Φρόυντ είπε πως στην αγάπη ο άνθρωπος είναι πιο τρωτός από ποτέ: αφήνει τον εαυτό του να ευνουχιστεί, να αγαπήσει, να αγαπησεί: αφαιρούνται δηλαδή και οι δύο φαλλοί και στην θέση του υπάρχει το κενό της επιθυμίας· απλά μαθηματικά, απλή εφαρμογή του τύπου∙ τόσες σπουδές, τόσες επιδράσεις για να γίνουν κανονικοί κύπριοι: να κάμουν μωρά και να αφήσουν περιουσία: μα, η πραγματική παρακαταθήκη που αφήνουν στα παιδιά τους είναι να μην πράττουν ποτέ προς την επιθυμία τους- τί χειρότερο να κληροδοτήσει ένας γονιός προς το παιδί του;

Αυτός το ίδιο∙ το ίδιο σαν την μέλλουσα σύζυγο του∙ δεν, ούτε καν, δεν διερωτάται γιατί έχει πίστη στο «έτσι είναι τα πράγματα», αυτό ακούει γύρω του- το ίδιο, η ίδια μαθηματική εξίσωση της κουλτούρας που εμποδίζει την ελευθερία, όχι μόνο του λόγου αλλά και της σκέψης: ούτε καν να σκεφτούν το τί θέλουν, έστω και το τί δεν θέλουν∙ και, ναι, έχει μεγάλο τίμημα να αρθρωθεί τέτοιος λόγος: ο άντρας πρέπει να είναι μάγκας και η γυναίκα νεραΐδα: σπάνιο φαινόμενο για μαθηματικούς που δεν έχουν την παραμικρή πίστη σε παραμύθια∙ απλή εφαρμογή του τύπου: υπό τη δύναμη του βλέμματος: «έτσι είναι η ζωή»- όχι δεν είναι έτσι: εσύ την έκανες έτσι∙ ιδού και η ευθύνη του υποκειμένου στην υπέρ-απολαυση του τραγικού που δεν αναλαμβάνεται ως αναγκαία τοπολογία της επιθυμίας.