Winter Waning Cold Moon
Strange event today at Groveland. An old therapist of mine showed up to hear me preach. An ex-Roman Catholic priest, he came into my life while I was still reeling from a barrage of self-inflicted wounds. His therapeutic approach was problem-focused, that is, we always discussed what was the matter with me. In therapy with him I learned that this approach didn’t function well overall for me. He was a good listener and empathetic, too. It was, though, over against that school of psychological thought that I sought out a Jungian and found John Desteian.
On thinking about it further I wondered what it would be like to have an event where all my old therapists showed up. If I added in ex-wives, I could fill a small lecture hall. What might we discuss? The points I refused to acknowledge. The ground I could have covered more quickly if I’d only listened. Or, might we discuss the essential fragility of the human condition, its inevitable pressures on our small selves. We might have a laugh at the man I was and perhaps, I hope, drink a cup of tea to the man I have become.
Still doubting. Still vulnerable. Still fragile. Yes, but still here, too.