The need to become a separate self is as urgent as the yearning to merge forever. And as long as we, not our mother, initiate parting, and as long as our mother remains reliably there, it seems possible to risk, and even to revel in, standing alone.

Some days are like that. Even in Australia.

Craving that old sweet oneness yet dreading engulfment, wishing to be our mother's and yet be our own, we stormily swing from mood to mood, advancing and retreating-the quintessential model of two-mindedness.

Our early lessons in love and our developmental history shape the expectations we bring into marriage.

Superstition is foolish, childish, primitive and irrational - but how much does it cost you to knock on wood?

we love as soon as we learn to distinguish a separate 'you' and 'me.' Love is our attempt to assuage the terror and isolation of that separateness.

Our mother gives us our earliest lessons in love- and its partner, hate. Our father-our "second other"-elaborates on them.