My Heart Therapist

If therapists were all Microsoft Office documents, oldT would be an excel spreadsheet. NewT, a powerpoint. OldT was smart. NewT is heart. 

In session yesterday, T was saying that the better part of her learning to be a psychotherapist came from her own therapy. And, at this, she put a hand to her chest and patted it – a gentle acknowledgement of her own work, of her student heart. 

I need to be the patient/client/student of a Heart T. My parents were both smart. Growing up, I longed for heart. I am sure that when I was small I had a broken heart. The brokenness of not being loved - not enough, not in the Little Me way I needed so much.

We Need Each Other

Today is John Steinbeck’s 112th birthday. (It is if you believe the Doodle on Google’s home page today, and I believe everything I read on the internet, so it must be true.) Our lives overlapped; I was 12 when he died.  When I discover my life overlaps some interesting character, I always feel a brief sadness or regret. Like, “Oh shoot! I might have had the chance to know him, to talk to him, to go to a book signing… if I had only known.” Of course, as a snotty little 12 year old, I couldn’t have cared less. I probably recognized his name, but pfft, what did it matter to me?

Co-ink-i-dentally, I just finished reading The Grapes of Wrath. I might have read it a long time ago, probably under threat of an “F” in some English class, and I have faint memories of a very dusty movie. But reading this book in 2014, in my 57th year, knowing the history that has passed since it was written more than 60 years ago… Geez-o-pete! The story is gripping, tragic, magnificent. And that guy, Mr. Steinbeck, was an incredible writer. I guess I’m not the only one who noticed as he did receive the Pulitzer Prize in 1940.

How Are You?

How are you?  Oh, not so great. Been really depressed lately.

And with that, the questioner averts her eyes and quickly changes the subject. How ‘bout them Yankees?

I loathe “how are you?” because the expected response is “oh, fine – and you?”. I hate lying, and I have trouble discerning when someone truly wants to know how I’m doing. Even when you know they do care and want a truthful answer… how to respond if you can’t just say Fine?

What Is My Soul?

At my twice monthly Deep Ecology discussion group, we’re reading Spiritual Ecology, a collection of essays from various perspectives that assume the interconnectedness of all life, human and non-human. The article we discussed last evening was by Bill Plotkin (who has been a research psychologist studying non-ordinary states of consciousness, professor of psychology, psychotherapist, rock musician, and whitewater river guide).

In his essay, Plotkin articulates a definition of “soul” that’s got me thinking. He describes soul as the “role, function, station, status, or niche it has in relation to other things.” This place, in its truest sense, is the very core of one’s identity, it’s significance, purpose, raison d’être. He describes the soul of Jesus as love and the soul of the Buddha, emptiness.