What is Jouissance?
in Psychology ·
mistyscout2 said:Since that’s heading in a completely different direction—I mean, we aren't just shifting sub-forums here, we're pivoting to an entirely different subject matter—and because we're talking about societal trends rather than the individual, I think it’s best if I just set that aside for now. Besides, I don't really fall for those kinds of illusions myself; I've never looked at those airbrushed, "perfect" bodies you see in a Super Bowl commercial and actually thought they represented perfection.
It might not even be possible during the act itself, though I’d say there's a chance it happens then too—sort of like how someone from that other thread mentioned, where a "philosopher" might actually be visualizing the woman they're with while it's happening. But putting that aside for a moment, I honestly feel like he wouldn't even need a fantasy in that specific instant. I feel like Lacan and those who follow his school of thought lean way too heavily on this whole concept of "fantasy." Whether they're right about it or not, I can't quite say. And look, I know I'm rambling, but I really think their obsession with fantasy just pushes them away from other interesting ways of thinking. It seems like if they moved past it, things would get a little too intense for them, which is probably why they stick to it. If they actually looked elsewhere, they might stumble upon the real truth, but then all of philosophy and psychoanalysis would basically lose its purpose—they'd just get lost in pure love and that genuine sense of oneness with the person you're with.
It seems like a pretty straightforward concept to me. Once you actually possess something, the frantic "desire" for it—that constant mental loop of daydreaming about having it or craving it—just sortically evaporates. Now, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean you can't fully enjoy what you have. In my book, "having" something is a much better way to put it than just "desiring" it; I’m leaning a bit toward those Eastern philosophies or even some Stoic principles there, focusing more on the reality of what *is* in the moment rather than the hunger for what isn't. To give a little example that I think works quite well: when I’m sitting there craving chocolate, I am definitely desiring it. But once I actually start eating that chocolate, the dynamic shifts. I essentially become one with the chocolate—metaphorically speaking, at least, though biologically it's quite literal. It becomes a part of me, and I am actively experiencing it. There’s really no reason left to pine for it when I can actually experience it so deeply. That chocolate becomes part of my physical being; it hits my taste buds, my palate, my tongue—it satisfies all my senses. It sends these signals to my brain, triggering a lovely little cascade of dopamine and all that wonderful neurobiology we know so well. Eventually, the chocolate is literally absorbed into my body, providing me with actual energy. You could still say I "desire" the chocolate in the sense that I am not rejecting it, but the restless longing is gone because I finally have the "real thing" right here in front of me.
Honestly, I don't think Lacan actually brought anything new to the table here.
It’s funny how often we fall into that trap where we spend all this energy convinced that we absolutely need something, only to finally get our hands on it and realize it wasn't actually what we were looking for at all. It’s like you chase this specific goal for months, thinking it’ll be this life-changing moment, but once it arrives, there's just this weird sense of emptiness because it turns out it wasn't "the one." That’s really the heart of the matter, isn't it? I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately circling around the concept of the *objet petit a*, and honestly, it feels like one of those ideas that you think you’ve finally pinned down, only to have it slip right through your fingers the moment you try to grab it. It’s that elusive little thing—that tiny, nagging gap between what we actually have and the impossible perfection we feel is just out of reach. It isn't some tangible prize you can go out and buy at a Target or find on Amazon; it's more like the phantom itch of desire itself. You know that feeling when you’re scrolling through something online, thinking, "If I just had that one specific thing, everything would click," only to realize once it arrives that the satisfaction lasts about five seconds before your brain starts hunting for the next missing piece? That’s the essence of it. It’s the cause of our desire, rather than the object of it. We aren't really chasing the thing; we're chasing the feeling of wholeness that the thing promises but can never actually deliver. I was reading some stuff regarding Lacan the other day—and yes, I did spend way too long getting lost in those dense paragraphs—and it struck me how much this explains our modern obsession with constant consumption. We’re essentially running on a treadmill of longing, perpetually chasing a ghost that keeps moving just a step ahead of us. It’s a bit exhausting if you think about it too hard, which is probably why I usually prefer to just let these heavy thoughts simmer in the background while I focus on more practical things. But there's something strangely comforting about realizing that the "missing piece" might not even exist in the first place. It takes the pressure off, doesn't it?Honestly, I think that just points to a certain level of immaturity and lack of experience, probably driven by some kind of external manipulation. It’s like their desires aren't even their own; they're being steered by the people they're trying to keep up with—whether that's business partners, peers, or just their social circle. It's that classic idea of the desire of the Other, where you end up wanting exactly what someone else wants you to want. Or, you know, the mass media does the same thing, shaping our cravings so directly that we basically become puppets of what society tells us to crave. But, as I was saying before, this really only happens to people who haven't quite developed a solid enough sense of self or a structured personality. For someone who actually has a grounded identity, it doesn't really matter where the spark of that desire originally came from. What matters is that the desire stays consistent and feels authentically ours, rather than being this constantly shifting, fluid thing. In a way, that constant flux is exactly what fuels our capitalist system of mass consumption, because no matter what you buy, that specific object—that *objet petit a*—never actually turns out to be "the one."
I think this modern take on physicality fits the bill perfectly—it’s essentially just a sexual fantasy. You see it all the time in the way porn is shot, where the guy is barely even in the frame and the woman is front and center. There are exceptions, sure, but you can't deny that media and commercial interests shape how people fantasize globally. It’s that constant push toward an impossible ideal that drives us straight into the realm of pure imagination.
mistyscout2 said:Since that’s heading in a completely different direction—I mean, we aren't just shifting sub-forums here, we're pivoting to an entirely different subject matter—and because we're talking about societal trends rather than the individual, I think it’s best if I just set that aside for now. Besides, I don't really fall for those kinds of illusions myself; I've never looked at those airbrushed, "perfect" bodies you see in a Super Bowl commercial and actually thought they represented perfection.
It might not even be possible during the act itself, though I’d say there's a chance it happens then too—sort of like how someone from that other thread mentioned, where a "philosopher" might actually be visualizing the woman they're with while it's happening. But putting that aside for a moment, I honestly feel like he wouldn't even need a fantasy in that specific instant. I feel like Lacan and those who follow his school of thought lean way too heavily on this whole concept of "fantasy." Whether they're right about it or not, I can't quite say. And look, I know I'm rambling, but I really think their obsession with fantasy just pushes them away from other interesting ways of thinking. It seems like if they moved past it, things would get a little too intense for them, which is probably why they stick to it. If they actually looked elsewhere, they might stumble upon the real truth, but then all of philosophy and psychoanalysis would basically lose its purpose—they'd just get lost in pure love and that genuine sense of oneness with the person you're with.
It seems like a pretty straightforward concept to me. Once you actually possess something, the frantic "desire" for it—that constant mental loop of daydreaming about having it or craving it—just sortically evaporates. Now, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean you can't fully enjoy what you have. In my book, "having" something is a much better way to put it than just "desiring" it; I’m leaning a bit toward those Eastern philosophies or even some Stoic principles there, focusing more on the reality of what *is* in the moment rather than the hunger for what isn't. To give a little example that I think works quite well: when I’m sitting there craving chocolate, I am definitely desiring it. But once I actually start eating that chocolate, the dynamic shifts. I essentially become one with the chocolate—metaphorically speaking, at least, though biologically it's quite literal. It becomes a part of me, and I am actively experiencing it. There’s really no reason left to pine for it when I can actually experience it so deeply. That chocolate becomes part of my physical being; it hits my taste buds, my palate, my tongue—it satisfies all my senses. It sends these signals to my brain, triggering a lovely little cascade of dopamine and all that wonderful neurobiology we know so well. Eventually, the chocolate is literally absorbed into my body, providing me with actual energy. You could still say I "desire" the chocolate in the sense that I am not rejecting it, but the restless longing is gone because I finally have the "real thing" right here in front of me.
Honestly, I don't think Lacan actually brought anything new to the table here.
It’s funny how often we fall into that trap where we spend all this energy convinced that we absolutely need something, only to finally get our hands on it and realize it wasn't actually what we were looking for at all. It’s like you chase this specific goal for months, thinking it’ll be this life-changing moment, but once it arrives, there's just this weird sense of emptiness because it turns out it wasn't "the one." That’s really the heart of the matter, isn't it? I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately circling around the concept of the *objet petit a*, and honestly, it feels like one of those ideas that you think you’ve finally pinned down, only to have it slip right through your fingers the moment you try to grab it. It’s that elusive little thing—that tiny, nagging gap between what we actually have and the impossible perfection we feel is just out of reach. It isn't some tangible prize you can go out and buy at a Target or find on Amazon; it's more like the phantom itch of desire itself. You know that feeling when you’re scrolling through something online, thinking, "If I just had that one specific thing, everything would click," only to realize once it arrives that the satisfaction lasts about five seconds before your brain starts hunting for the next missing piece? That’s the essence of it. It’s the cause of our desire, rather than the object of it. We aren't really chasing the thing; we're chasing the feeling of wholeness that the thing promises but can never actually deliver. I was reading some stuff regarding Lacan the other day—and yes, I did spend way too long getting lost in those dense paragraphs—and it struck me how much this explains our modern obsession with constant consumption. We’re essentially running on a treadmill of longing, perpetually chasing a ghost that keeps moving just a step ahead of us. It’s a bit exhausting if you think about it too hard, which is probably why I usually prefer to just let these heavy thoughts simmer in the background while I focus on more practical things. But there's something strangely comforting about realizing that the "missing piece" might not even exist in the first place. It takes the pressure off, doesn't it?Honestly, I think that just points to a certain level of immaturity and lack of experience, probably driven by some kind of external manipulation. It’s like their desires aren't even their own; they're being steered by the people they're trying to keep up with—whether that's business partners, peers, or just their social circle. It's that classic idea of the desire of the Other, where you end up wanting exactly what someone else wants you to want. Or, you know, the mass media does the same thing, shaping our cravings so directly that we basically become puppets of what society tells us to crave. But, as I was saying before, this really only happens to people who haven't quite developed a solid enough sense of self or a structured personality. For someone who actually has a grounded identity, it doesn't really matter where the spark of that desire originally came from. What matters is that the desire stays consistent and feels authentically ours, rather than being this constantly shifting, fluid thing. In a way, that constant flux is exactly what fuels our capitalist system of mass consumption, because no matter what you buy, that specific object—that *objet petit a*—never actually turns out to be "the one."
I just caught up on this thread—the concept is interesting, sure—but if she’s just living up to some idealized version of herself, that isn't really her. It’s just an idea of her. I think that’s exactly how we end up with these warped notions of what love is actually supposed to look like. At what point can we even be certain we’re loving the actual person in a relationship rather than just a polished concept?
Fantasy is one of those concepts that keeps popping up in my research—it’s an interesting rabbit hole. It’s funny how the discussion naturally drifted toward the idea of love... I wonder how much of that is actually connected to the fantasy itself. I think I get where you're coming from with that second angle, though—I see your point.
mistyscout2 said:Since that’s heading in a completely different direction—I mean, we aren't just shifting sub-forums here, we're pivoting to an entirely different subject matter—and because we're talking about societal trends rather than the individual, I think it’s best if I just set that aside for now. Besides, I don't really fall for those kinds of illusions myself; I've never looked at those airbrushed, "perfect" bodies you see in a Super Bowl commercial and actually thought they represented perfection.
It might not even be possible during the act itself, though I’d say there's a chance it happens then too—sort of like how someone from that other thread mentioned, where a "philosopher" might actually be visualizing the woman they're with while it's happening. But putting that aside for a moment, I honestly feel like he wouldn't even need a fantasy in that specific instant. I feel like Lacan and those who follow his school of thought lean way too heavily on this whole concept of "fantasy." Whether they're right about it or not, I can't quite say. And look, I know I'm rambling, but I really think their obsession with fantasy just pushes them away from other interesting ways of thinking. It seems like if they moved past it, things would get a little too intense for them, which is probably why they stick to it. If they actually looked elsewhere, they might stumble upon the real truth, but then all of philosophy and psychoanalysis would basically lose its purpose—they'd just get lost in pure love and that genuine sense of oneness with the person you're with.
It seems like a pretty straightforward concept to me. Once you actually possess something, the frantic "desire" for it—that constant mental loop of daydreaming about having it or craving it—just sortically evaporates. Now, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean you can't fully enjoy what you have. In my book, "having" something is a much better way to put it than just "desiring" it; I’m leaning a bit toward those Eastern philosophies or even some Stoic principles there, focusing more on the reality of what *is* in the moment rather than the hunger for what isn't. To give a little example that I think works quite well: when I’m sitting there craving chocolate, I am definitely desiring it. But once I actually start eating that chocolate, the dynamic shifts. I essentially become one with the chocolate—metaphorically speaking, at least, though biologically it's quite literal. It becomes a part of me, and I am actively experiencing it. There’s really no reason left to pine for it when I can actually experience it so deeply. That chocolate becomes part of my physical being; it hits my taste buds, my palate, my tongue—it satisfies all my senses. It sends these signals to my brain, triggering a lovely little cascade of dopamine and all that wonderful neurobiology we know so well. Eventually, the chocolate is literally absorbed into my body, providing me with actual energy. You could still say I "desire" the chocolate in the sense that I am not rejecting it, but the restless longing is gone because I finally have the "real thing" right here in front of me.
Honestly, I don't think Lacan actually brought anything new to the table here.
It’s funny how often we fall into that trap where we spend all this energy convinced that we absolutely need something, only to finally get our hands on it and realize it wasn't actually what we were looking for at all. It’s like you chase this specific goal for months, thinking it’ll be this life-changing moment, but once it arrives, there's just this weird sense of emptiness because it turns out it wasn't "the one." That’s really the heart of the matter, isn't it? I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately circling around the concept of the *objet petit a*, and honestly, it feels like one of those ideas that you think you’ve finally pinned down, only to have it slip right through your fingers the moment you try to grab it. It’s that elusive little thing—that tiny, nagging gap between what we actually have and the impossible perfection we feel is just out of reach. It isn't some tangible prize you can go out and buy at a Target or find on Amazon; it's more like the phantom itch of desire itself. You know that feeling when you’re scrolling through something online, thinking, "If I just had that one specific thing, everything would click," only to realize once it arrives that the satisfaction lasts about five seconds before your brain starts hunting for the next missing piece? That’s the essence of it. It’s the cause of our desire, rather than the object of it. We aren't really chasing the thing; we're chasing the feeling of wholeness that the thing promises but can never actually deliver. I was reading some stuff regarding Lacan the other day—and yes, I did spend way too long getting lost in those dense paragraphs—and it struck me how much this explains our modern obsession with constant consumption. We’re essentially running on a treadmill of longing, perpetually chasing a ghost that keeps moving just a step ahead of us. It’s a bit exhausting if you think about it too hard, which is probably why I usually prefer to just let these heavy thoughts simmer in the background while I focus on more practical things. But there's something strangely comforting about realizing that the "missing piece" might not even exist in the first place. It takes the pressure off, doesn't it?Honestly, I think that just points to a certain level of immaturity and lack of experience, probably driven by some kind of external manipulation. It’s like their desires aren't even their own; they're being steered by the people they're trying to keep up with—whether that's business partners, peers, or just their social circle. It's that classic idea of the desire of the Other, where you end up wanting exactly what someone else wants you to want. Or, you know, the mass media does the same thing, shaping our cravings so directly that we basically become puppets of what society tells us to crave. But, as I was saying before, this really only happens to people who haven't quite developed a solid enough sense of self or a structured personality. For someone who actually has a grounded identity, it doesn't really matter where the spark of that desire originally came from. What matters is that the desire stays consistent and feels authentically ours, rather than being this constantly shifting, fluid thing. In a way, that constant flux is exactly what fuels our capitalist system of mass consumption, because no matter what you buy, that specific object—that *objet petit a*—never actually turns out to be "the one."
The whole thing shifts once you start eating that chocolate every single day. That "authentic" feeling—that magic—only exists the first time you bite into a Hershey’s bar and get hit by that initial rush of flavor and sensation. Your relationship actually begins at a storefront window where you first catch a glimpse of it, turning the candy into an object of pure craving. You and the chocolate become one; you're lost in this explosion of sensory input, forgetting every other food on the planet for a second. But after that initial rush, you develop this repetitive need to chase that exact same high. So, you force yourself to eat the same damn chocolate day after day, indefinitely. Eventually, the novelty dies. Your taste buds adapt to the point where what used to be a singular experience becomes nothing more than a mindless routine. Your perception of it changes. The bliss you felt while drowning in that sweetness—the very thing that drove your craving—gets swallowed up by the monotony. That's when the options open up. You might grab a Hershey’s bar while daydreaming about a white chocolate strawberry one, but more likely, your old favorite will just bore you to death. You won't even want to look at it, let alone taste it....
mistyscout2 said:Since that’s heading in a completely different direction—I mean, we aren't just shifting sub-forums here, we're pivoting to an entirely different subject matter—and because we're talking about societal trends rather than the individual, I think it’s best if I just set that aside for now. Besides, I don't really fall for those kinds of illusions myself; I've never looked at those airbrushed, "perfect" bodies you see in a Super Bowl commercial and actually thought they represented perfection.
It might not even be possible during the act itself, though I’d say there's a chance it happens then too—sort of like how someone from that other thread mentioned, where a "philosopher" might actually be visualizing the woman they're with while it's happening. But putting that aside for a moment, I honestly feel like he wouldn't even need a fantasy in that specific instant. I feel like Lacan and those who follow his school of thought lean way too heavily on this whole concept of "fantasy." Whether they're right about it or not, I can't quite say. And look, I know I'm rambling, but I really think their obsession with fantasy just pushes them away from other interesting ways of thinking. It seems like if they moved past it, things would get a little too intense for them, which is probably why they stick to it. If they actually looked elsewhere, they might stumble upon the real truth, but then all of philosophy and psychoanalysis would basically lose its purpose—they'd just get lost in pure love and that genuine sense of oneness with the person you're with.
It seems like a pretty straightforward concept to me. Once you actually possess something, the frantic "desire" for it—that constant mental loop of daydreaming about having it or craving it—just sortically evaporates. Now, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean you can't fully enjoy what you have. In my book, "having" something is a much better way to put it than just "desiring" it; I’m leaning a bit toward those Eastern philosophies or even some Stoic principles there, focusing more on the reality of what *is* in the moment rather than the hunger for what isn't. To give a little example that I think works quite well: when I’m sitting there craving chocolate, I am definitely desiring it. But once I actually start eating that chocolate, the dynamic shifts. I essentially become one with the chocolate—metaphorically speaking, at least, though biologically it's quite literal. It becomes a part of me, and I am actively experiencing it. There’s really no reason left to pine for it when I can actually experience it so deeply. That chocolate becomes part of my physical being; it hits my taste buds, my palate, my tongue—it satisfies all my senses. It sends these signals to my brain, triggering a lovely little cascade of dopamine and all that wonderful neurobiology we know so well. Eventually, the chocolate is literally absorbed into my body, providing me with actual energy. You could still say I "desire" the chocolate in the sense that I am not rejecting it, but the restless longing is gone because I finally have the "real thing" right here in front of me.
Honestly, I don't think Lacan actually brought anything new to the table here.
It’s funny how often we fall into that trap where we spend all this energy convinced that we absolutely need something, only to finally get our hands on it and realize it wasn't actually what we were looking for at all. It’s like you chase this specific goal for months, thinking it’ll be this life-changing moment, but once it arrives, there's just this weird sense of emptiness because it turns out it wasn't "the one." That’s really the heart of the matter, isn't it? I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately circling around the concept of the *objet petit a*, and honestly, it feels like one of those ideas that you think you’ve finally pinned down, only to have it slip right through your fingers the moment you try to grab it. It’s that elusive little thing—that tiny, nagging gap between what we actually have and the impossible perfection we feel is just out of reach. It isn't some tangible prize you can go out and buy at a Target or find on Amazon; it's more like the phantom itch of desire itself. You know that feeling when you’re scrolling through something online, thinking, "If I just had that one specific thing, everything would click," only to realize once it arrives that the satisfaction lasts about five seconds before your brain starts hunting for the next missing piece? That’s the essence of it. It’s the cause of our desire, rather than the object of it. We aren't really chasing the thing; we're chasing the feeling of wholeness that the thing promises but can never actually deliver. I was reading some stuff regarding Lacan the other day—and yes, I did spend way too long getting lost in those dense paragraphs—and it struck me how much this explains our modern obsession with constant consumption. We’re essentially running on a treadmill of longing, perpetually chasing a ghost that keeps moving just a step ahead of us. It’s a bit exhausting if you think about it too hard, which is probably why I usually prefer to just let these heavy thoughts simmer in the background while I focus on more practical things. But there's something strangely comforting about realizing that the "missing piece" might not even exist in the first place. It takes the pressure off, doesn't it?Honestly, I think that just points to a certain level of immaturity and lack of experience, probably driven by some kind of external manipulation. It’s like their desires aren't even their own; they're being steered by the people they're trying to keep up with—whether that's business partners, peers, or just their social circle. It's that classic idea of the desire of the Other, where you end up wanting exactly what someone else wants you to want. Or, you know, the mass media does the same thing, shaping our cravings so directly that we basically become puppets of what society tells us to crave. But, as I was saying before, this really only happens to people who haven't quite developed a solid enough sense of self or a structured personality. For someone who actually has a grounded identity, it doesn't really matter where the spark of that desire originally came from. What matters is that the desire stays consistent and feels authentically ours, rather than being this constantly shifting, fluid thing. In a way, that constant flux is exactly what fuels our capitalist system of mass consumption, because no matter what you buy, that specific object—that *objet petit a*—never actually turns out to be "the one."
I agree that desire is essentially the desire of the Other, but I'd argue our own desires are never entirely our own to begin with...