Eros - thanatos

Citat :

Prema Freudu, ljudi imaju nagon života, eros i nagon smrti, thanatos (tako su ga prozvali njegovi nastavljači). Taj smrtni nagon tjera ljude da se upuštaju u rizične i destruktivne situacije i činove koji bi mogli voditi do vlastite smrti - traženje adrenalina, nasilje, rizici i sl.

IZVOR

Na otvaranje ove teme potakla me tema o vođenju ljubavi vozača i suvozačice pri 120km/h. Jeste li ikad primijetili da vas ili druge uzbuđuje smrtna opasnost? Ja za sebe nisam, mislila sam da nikad neću shvatiti tu poveznicu, dok nisam pročitala Rodoljublje Japanskog pisca Yukia Mishime koja me istovremeno zgrozila, ali i ukazala na mogućnost doživljavanja gore opisane pojave koja mi je dotad bila potpuna nepoznanica.

Thanatos nije samo atrakcija za smrtnu opasnost. Thanatos je po Freud-u, izvor cijelog negativiteta, ali sto trebamo da zivimo zivot izbalancirano. Thanatos je Agresija prema drugima i prema sebi, masohisticke misli, nesrece koje si mi sami namecemo, destruktivitet, itd. Vise je agresija i njezina dinamika u centru, nego "samoubojstvo" naprimjer.
Ljudi kojima je Eros ili Thanatos prejak, su po Freud-u "bolesni", te dvije komponente sa njihovim psihickim mocima (Eros-Libido; Thanatos-Destrudo) moraju konstantno biti u promjeni.


Edgar Allan Poe je o tome slicnim pricao, to je nazvao "prima mobilia", taj psihologicki fenomen je probao objasniti u literaturi, i uspijelo mu je po mome.

Edgar Allan Poe je napisao/la:

“We stand upon the brink of a precipice. We peer into the abyss — we grow sick and dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably we remain. By slow degrees our sickness and dizziness and horror become merged in a cloud of unnamable feeling. By gradations, still more imperceptible, this cloud assumes shape, as did the vapor from the bottle out of which arose the genius in the Arabian Nights. But out of this our cloud upon the precipice’s edge, there grows into palpability, a shape, far more terrible than any genius or any demon of a tale, and yet it is but a thought, although a fearful one, and one which chills the very marrow of our bones with the fierceness of the delight of its horror. It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height. And this fall — this rushing annihilation — for the very reason that it involves that one most ghastly and loathsome of all the most ghastly and loathsome images of death and suffering which have ever presented themselves to our imagination — for this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it. And because our reason violently deters us from the brink, therefore do we the most impetuously approach it. There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a Plunge. To indulge, for a moment, in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed.”

The Imp of the Perverse, 1845