have been sure to ask whether they were expressing their own
feelings. However, at this stage, he wanted only to support Philip`s
appropriateness. He scanned the group, awaiting a response.
«Maybe,” said Bonnie, «there`s something to what Philip
said because I`ve had a couple of recent nightmares of something
trying to kill me, and then there was that nightmare I described—
trying to catch that train which was falling apart.»
«I know that under the surface I`m more fearful than usual,”
said Stuart. «One of my tennis chums is a dermatologist, and twice
now in the last month I`ve asked him to check out one of my skin
lesions. Melanoma is on my mind.»
«Julius,” said Pam, «you`ve been on my mind ever since you
told me about your melanoma. There is something to what I`m
being told about my being tough on men, but you`re the main
exception—you are the dearest man I`ve ever known. And yes, Ido
feel protective of you. I felt it when Philip put you on the spot. I
thought—and still think—it was callous and insensitive of him.
And the question of whether I`m more conscious of my own
death—well, that may be there, but I`m not aware of it. Ican tell
you that I`m on the lookout for consolatory things I might say to
you. Last night I read something interesting, a passage in
Nabokov`s memoir,Speak, Memory, which described life as a
spark between two identical pools of darkness, the darkness before
we were born and the darkness after we die. And how odd it is that
we have so much concern about the latter and so little about the
former. I somehow found this enormously reassuring and
immediately tagged it to give to you.»
«That`s a gift, Pam. Thank you. That`s an extraordinary
thought. And itis a reassuring thought, though I`m not quite sure
why. I`m more comfortable with that first pool, before birth—it
seems friend–lier—perhaps I imbue it with promise, the potential
of things to come.»
«That thought,” said Philip, «was also reassuring to
Schopenhauer, from whom, incidentally, Nabokov undoubtedly
lifted it. Schopenhauer said that after death we will be what we
were before our birth and then proceeded to prove the impossibility
of there being more than one kind of nothingness.»
Julius never had a chance to reply. Pam glared at Philip and
barked a response: «Right here we have a perfect illustration of
why your desire to be a counselor is a monstrous joke. We`re in the
midst of tender feelings, and what matters most, whatonly matters
to you, is accuracy of attribution. You think Schopenhauer once
said something vaguely similar. Big fucking deal!»
Philip closed his eyes and began reciting: «вЂA man finds
himself, to his great astonishment, suddenly existing after
thousands and thousands of years of non–existence; he lives for a
little while; and then, again, comes an equally long period when he
must exist no more.` I`ve committed a great deal of Schopenhauer
to memory: third paragraph of his essay вЂAdditional Remarks on
the Doctrine of the Vanity of Existence.` Is that vague enough for
you?»
«Children, children, you two quit that,” said Bonnie, in a
high–pitched voice.
«You`re getting loose, Bonnie. I like it,” said Tony.
«Other feelings, anybody?» asked Julius.
«I don`t want to get caught inthis crossfire. Some big
cannons being wheeled out,” said Gill.
«Yeah,” said Stuart, «neither of them can resist the
opportunity for a jab. Philip`s got to comment on someone else
using Schopenhauer`s phrase, and Pam can`t resist the opportunity
to call Philip a monstrous joke.»
«I didn`t sayhe was a monstrous joke. I said...”
«Get off it, Pam, you`re nitpicking. You know what I
meant.» Stuart held his ground. «And anyway that blowup about
Nabokov—that was out of line, Pam. You bad–mouth his hero, and
then you praise someone else who borrows Schopenhauer`s words.
What`s so wrong with Philip setting you straight? What`s the big
crime with his pointing out Schopenhauer`s priority?»
«I gotta say something,” said Tony. «As usual I don`t know
who these dudes are—at least not Nabo...Nobo?
«Nabokov,” said Pam, in the soft voice she reserved for
Tony. «He`s a great Russian writer. You may have heard of his
novelLolita. ”
«Yeah, I saw that. Well, in this kind of talk I get into a
vicious circle—not knowing makes me feel stupid, then I clam up,
and then I feel more stupid. I`ve got to keep trying to break that
pattern by speaking out.» He turned to Julius: «So to answer your
question about feelings,that`s one feeling—stupid. Another is that
for one instant, when he said, вЂIs that vague enough for you?` I got
a glimpse of Philip`s teeth—and they`re sharp teeth, real sharp.
And some other feelings toward Pam,” Tony turned to face her,
«Pam, you`re my girl—I really dig you, but I`ll tell you
something:I sure don`t want to get on your bad side. ”
«I hear you,” said Pam.
«And, and...” said Tony, «I forgot the most important thing
I was going to say—that this whole argument has gotten us off the
track. We were talking about how we might be protecting or
avoiding you, Julius. Then with Pam and Philip we got off the
topic quick. So aren`t we avoiding you again?»
«You know, I don`t feel that now. When we work as
intimately as we`re doing now, we never stay on a single trail. The
stream of thought keeps overflowing into new channels. And,
incidentally,” Julius turned to Philip, «I use that term—
intimately—quite deliberately. I think your anger—which we see
breaking through here for the first time—is truly a sign of
intimacy. I think you care enough about Pam to be angry at her.»
Julius knew Philip would not answer on his own and nudged
him. «Philip?»
Shaking his head, Philip replied, «I don`t know how to
assess your hypothesis. But there is something else I want to say. I
confess that, like Pam, I also have been looking for comforting or
at least relevant things to say to you. I have followed
Schopenhauer`s practice of ending each day reading from the
works of Epictetus or from the Upanishads.» Philip glanced in
Tony`s direction. «Epictetus was a Roman philosopher of the
second century, and the Upanishads are an ancient sacred Hindu
text. The other night I read a passage from Epictetus that I thought
would be of value, and I`ve made copies of it. I`ve translated it
loosely from the Latin into current vernacular.» Philip reached into
his briefcase, handed out copies to each member, and then, eyes
closed, recited the passage from memory.
When, on a sea voyage, the ship is brought to anchor, you go
out to fetch water and gather a few roots and shells by the way.
But you always need to keep your mind fixed on the ship, and
constantly to look around, lest at any time the master of the
ship call, and you must heed that call and cast away all those
things, lest you be treated like the sheep that are bound and
thrown into the hold.
So it is with human life also. And if there be available
wife and children instead of shells and roots, nothing should
hinder us from taking them. But if the master call, run to the
ship, forsaking all those things, and without looking behind.
And if thou be in old age, go not far from the ship at any time,
lest the master should call, and thou be not ready.
Philip ended and held out his arms as though to say, «There
it is.»
The group studied the passage. They were bewildered. Stuart
broke the silence, «I`m trying, but, Philip, I don`t get it. What`s the
value of this for Julius? Or for us?»
Julius pointed to his watch. «Sorry to say we`re out of time.
But let me be teacherly and make one point. I often view a
statement or act from two different points of view—from
itscontent and from itsprocess —and byprocess I meanwhat it tells
us about the nature of the relationship between the parties
involved. Like you, Stuart, I don`t immediately understand
thecontent of Philip`s message: I`ve got to study it, and maybe the
content can be a topic in another meeting. But I know something
about theprocess. What I know, Philip, is that you, like Pam, were
thinking about me, wanted to give me a gift, and you went to some
lengths to do it: you memorized the passage and you made copies.
And the meaning of that? It`s got to reflect your caring about me.
And what do I feel about it? I`m touched, I appreciate it, and I look
forward to the time when you can express your caring in your own
words.»
_________________________
Life can be
compared to a
piece of
embroidered
material of
which, everyone
in the first
half of his
time, comes to
see the top
side, but in
the second
half, the
reverse side.
The latter is
not so
beautiful, but
is more
instructive
because it
enables one to
see how the
threads are
connected
together.
_________________________
When the group left, Julius watched them walk down his front
stairs to the street. Rather than peel off singly to their parked cars,
they continued in a clump, undoubtedly on their way to the coffee
shop. Oh, how he would have liked to grab his windbreaker and go
flying down the stairs to join them. But that was another day,
another life, another pair of legs, he thought, as he crept down the
hall heading toward his office computer to enter his notes on the
meeting. Suddenly, he changed his mind, walked back into the
group room, took out his pipe, and enjoyed the aroma of rich
Turkish tobacco. He had no particular purpose other than simply to
bask for a few minutes more in the embers of the group session.
This meeting, like the last three or four, had been riveting.
His thoughts drifted back to the groups of breast cancer patients he
had led so long ago. How often had those members described a
golden period once they overcame the panic of realizing that they
were truly going to die. Some said living with cancer had made
them wiser, more self–realized, while others had reordered their
priorities in life, grown stronger, learned to say no to activities they
no longer valued and yes to things that really mattered—such as
loving their family and friends, observing the beauty about them,
savoring the changing seasons. But what a pity, so many had
lamented, that it was only after their bodies were riddled with
cancer that they had learned how to live.
These changes were so dramatic—indeed one patient had
proclaimed, «Cancer cures psychoneurosis»—that on a couple of
occasions Julius impishly described only the psychological
changes to a class of students and then asked them to guess what
kind of therapy was involved. How shocked students were to learn
it was not therapy or medication but a confrontation with death that
had made the difference. He owed a lot to those patients. What a
model they were for him in his time of need. What a pity he
couldn`t tell them. Live right, he reminded himself, and have faith
that good things will flow from you even if you never learn of
them.
And how are you doing with your cancer? he asked himself.
I know a lot about the panic phase which, thank God, I`m now
coming out of even though there are still those 3A.M. times when
panic grips with a nameless terror that yields to no reasoning or
rhetoric—it yields to nothing except Valium, the light of breaking
dawn, or a soothing hot–tub soak.
But have I changed or grown wiser? he wondered. Had my
golden period? Maybe I`m closer to my feelings—maybe that`s
growth. I think, no,I know I`ve become a better therapist—grown
more sensitive ears. Yes, definitely I`m a different therapist.
Before my melanoma I would never have said that I was in love
with the group. I would never have dreamed of revealing such
intimate details of my life—Miriam`s death, my sexual
opportunism. And my irresistible compulsion to confess to the
group today—Julius shook his head in amazement—
that`ssomething to wonder about, he thought. I feel a push to go
against the grain, against my training, my own teaching.
One thing for sure, they didnot want to hear me. Talk about
resistance! They wanted no part of my blemishes or my darkness.
But, once I put it out, some interesting stuff emerged. Tony was
something else! Acted like a skilled therapist—inquiring whether I
was satisfied with the group`s response, trying to normalize my
behavior, pressing about «why now.» Terrific stuff. I could almost
imagine him leading the group after I`m gone—that would be
something—a college drop–out therapist with jail time in his past.
And others—Gill, Stuart, Pam—stepped up, took care of me, and
kept the group focused. Jung had other things in mind when he
said that only the wounded healer can truly heal, but maybe honing
the patients` therapeutic skills is a good enough justification for
therapists to reveal their wounds.
Julius moseyed down the hall to his office and continued
thinking about the meeting. And Gill—did he show up today!
Calling Pam «the chief justice» was terrific—and accurate. I have
to help Pam integrate that feedback. Here`s a case when Gill`s
vision is sharper than mine. For a long time I`ve liked Pam so
much that I overlooked her pathology—maybe that`s why I
couldn`t help her with her obsession about John.
Julius turned on his computer and opened a file titled, «Short
Story Plots»—a file which contained the great unfulfilled project in
his life: to be a real writer. He was a good, contributing
professional writer (he had published two books and a hundred
articles in the psychiatric literature), but Julius yearned to write
literature and for decades had collected plots for short stories from
his imagination and his practice. Though he had started several, he
never found the time, nor the courage, to finish and submit a story
for publication.
Scrolling down the lists of plots he clicked on «Victims
confront their enemy» and read two of his ideas. The first
confrontation took place on a posh ship cruising off the Turkish
coast. A psychiatrist enters the ship`s casino and there across the
smoke–filled room sees an ex–patient, a con man who had once
swindled him out of seventy–five thousand dollars. The second
confrontation plot involved a female attorney who was assigned a
