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.