The Innocents (1961) and the dead-end of lust-resentment


Feel what others feel!

Put yourself in others’ shoes!

Familiar but underappreciated.

It’s in the movie The Innocents.

At 1:02:20–59, the new governess and protagonist (Miss Giddens) nearly swoons at the mere thought of lust-based involuntary suicide. She was just told the story about how the previous governess (Miss Jessel) committed suicide out of lust-based love. Imagine how fulfilling that love-lust must be if its absence make death preferable.

The poor Miss Giddens will never have true lust-love because she condemns her own lust and sublimates it in the service of being a caretaker for the children.

I could feel pity for her, if she were not so pitiless. And hungry. Hungry for him. For his arms … and his lips. But she can only reach him, they can only reach each other by entering the souls of the children and possessing them. (1:05:55)
The children are possessed.
They live, and know, and share this hell.

It is not hell. It is the world of lust and wonder, of life-energy—of the lust-life energy of the healthy body.

Sex is life. The mood of sex permeates everything because—as Damien Karass has phrased it—Meiosis is tragedy.

50% of self is lost a priori in the act (meiosis) that makes sex necessary. Haploid gamete invent all the shame and need of sex. Haploid gamete was the real Fall of Man. When life reproduced by budding, there was no other to seduce you away from your biological true will. Now, there was the opposite sex, and being an object for this new god.

Every moment of life trembles in the shadow of this loss. Everything is tinged with this pre-death. So of course our love—sex—haunts us. The person we want, we have already died for. I (my DNA) am nothing without you. Lots of potential darkness there. This is why sexual rejection is so catastrophic and religious. God is all about death. God punishes by killing. But sexual rejection is another death; and so sex, another God.

Miss Giddens’ lust is so great that it offends her. Her solution, familiar to all of us, is to replace her deep and precarious desire with a shallower and more manageable one—her Christian charity towards children, where the stakes were smaller and failure is almost impossible.

Transferring love from death-dealing realm of sex to the death-irrelevant realm of caretaking changes the idiom of happiness and the sheen of the world. Love becomes tender friendship, rather than root-level hunger for meat, friction, beauty, and secretion.

Lust is meat- and secretion-hunger. It is strong because death lies behind its absence. We don’t recognize this, of course. DNA can only pull the organism by the nose by means of illusions. Sex is really salvation from death (non-sex), but DNA has the animal (us) experience it as adoration or “love”

Reducing the consequences of failure is only one of benefits of transferring lust to maternal love. Another one is eliminating fear of future heartbreak.

With every failed romance, we become weaker and more afraid. The lusty and strong have hurt us deeply in the past, and the successfully lusty offend us deeply in the present. We have loved and been cut-off. We have lost all our pain in soul-destroying nirvana-sex … and then been rejected. Sexual desire hurts and pushes us to hurt—or kill—others. I went to prison for 10 years just because my girlfriend was jealous. If she could have, she would have killed me. Like OJ.

Sexual rejection is terribly painful; frustration of deep sexual fulfillment, ruinous.

We could divert our lust into caretaking love, aka loving-kindness. Once we do, we become Miss Giddens. We are out-and-out for the cause of protecting the innocents, forgetting all the time that youth whom we desexualize in our attempt at soothing self-deception is the very flower of life-lust, and that, from the start, the fearful baby lives, as does all life, inside the hunger for meat and secretions.

Miss Giddens feels pain when she learns that the former lust-possessed and totally fulfilled previous governess committed suicide from unfulfilled lust. Miss Giddens is horrified by the idea of lust-based suicide because she can empathize with it. It is because Miss Giddens governess knows this pain that she overreacts so violently—even to the point of killing young Master Miles.

Some people let your hunger grow so much for another that their soul turns inside-out like eager puckered lips or rectum—gushing digestive acid on every potential treat around you like BrundleFly vomiting reflexively on that donut. Their minds finally serve their real purpose—as agents bent on booking as much lust-fusion as possible, mere appendages to glistening pink meat that strains and expands outwardly to pucker and suck, like an amoeba, in order to ingest the other and accomplish deep (genetic-level) fusion.

To own your tragic lust in this all-consuming way will either kill you or make you insanely happy. You become glistening pink meat opening and to pucker and suck; you expand outwardly like an amoeba in order to ingest. If your lover is absent, your oozing appendages hang open and exposed, gaping and slurping in hopes that meat of the right kind will come and fill them.

By the way, the desire to ingest food for the purpose of somatic construction is no different from the desire to ingest DNA in sexual fusion for the purpose of genetic completion. Both are chemical fusions. One towards food; one towards future selfhood. Both are acts of self-emptying followed by other-eating.

Survival requires fusion. The governess has only emotional fusion. She worships sexual lust, and that’s why she hates it so.