“This time you have avoided your manager’s wrath,” he says. “You have fought well and gained dominion of the ring, but you must spend more time learning to fight and less time growing your lilies.”
Stefan then read the notes he had added to this folder.
My client has taken great care not to bruise her pure and chased lilies, but the life of the lily is not life; she cannot save them and they will not save her. Now she must mix her ability to nurture with her ability to fight. Until now she has repressed her fighting spirit because she considered it to be impure, but she cannot rely solely on an attitude of nurturing care to win her the match. If she remains unwise, unsexed and all white, her manager will have his revenge.
The tennis player is wise; he’s a fine example of a character outside the situation who can free a dreamer who is caught in a trap. The tennis player plays outside life’s daily condition. His game is dramatic and down-to-earth, not one bound by the repetition of mundane emotional relationships. He knows that conflict is part of the game, so he instructs the young woman to spend less time growing lilies - not to stop - and to pay more attention to the fight. She must be nurturing and physical; or in her case, sexual. Polarity is life. If she can come to terms with her emerging tension and anxiety and use a fighting spirit in her game then her psyche will become stronger.
Stefan added a new note.
The answer for my client is profane just as the answer for me and Mr A is profane. Sex, the desire for it or the lack of it, is the secularisation of a desire to be accepted. For Mr A, the thought of sex with Mrs X gives him the illusion that he is not alone, but by achieving this togetherness and oneness in sex, he is in danger of becoming dependent on it and losing his autonomy. He must keep his autonomy at all costs or he will grasp at any available object and turn it into his solution. (Just as the lily and then the ring are the objects that carry the solution for my female client)
Profane actions are never likely to satisfy our longing for acceptance, so we must achieve a balance between the extremes. We can’t survive by eliminating the conflict necessitated by our dichotomies; the balance must be between holding on and letting go. (Binding/autonomy) We constantly reinforce the importance of the tension that comes to us as a result of wanting both things at the same time. Binding/autonomy is the mother of all conflicts in relationships. That’s where we have to learn our lessons. That’s where I don’t readily want to go. To come to terms with binding/autonomy we must overcome our superego and we can’t use our ego to do this.
The substance that helps bond the two extremes together is life experience. Psychotherapy and the therapist cannot be the sole source of inspiration on this score. Sometimes we need an innovative, creative individual, like the actor or the portrait artist; we should learn how to invite their understanding. Anyone outside the “wall” can help us with this; the prostitute assisted the Zen monk. It is healthy to connect with people outside the therapeutic environment. We should learn to dance and sing in the sunlight, as the Rwandan community worker advised.
Successful artists must have a good relationship with their object, they must achieve a balance between holding the process together and letting it reign free. Artists must be in constant conflict with their objects. If their superego is too demanding their work will never be finished and if it is spoiling, they will never make a successful work.
We all struggle with our superego; our internal father, mother, manager or disembodied voice. It is the sadistic part of the superego that is the enemy and we must learn to face up to it and tame its negativity. We have to set boundaries, reduce the power of the destructive, devaluing, overburdening tyrant, and strengthen the influence of supporting, encouraging allies. I don’t have to come out victorious, I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to work at it, endure the task of starting at zero, beginning at the beginning again and again.
Therapists must be responsible for their own experience. Only by transforming experience into knowledge can they begin to communicate aspects of this journey to their client. In this respect, a therapist is a translator not a magician. Taking a different road to the one most are adopting could mean being independent from the father. This is what the Zen Monk did by escaping from the monastery. He left his monastery and his teacher to learn from the world outside. The profane life invites us to take the road of experience, but this is also the road to spirituality. The ‘father,’ the false respect of regulations, has to be overcome. We have to pass beyond the limitation of the walls and travel to the other polarity to know that we can move freely and at will across the length of the two polarities.
The first meeting
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
Leonard Cohen
The second Stefan saw Mr A, he suspected he’d met him before. He questioned this presentiment while welcoming the man and inviting him to take a seat. While taking a seat himself, Stefan doubted his hunch; his over-anticipation and zealous consideration probably made recognition inevitable. Moving Mr A’s file to the centre of the table, Stefan made eye contact with Mr A and considered the way he was studying him. Then both men declared, “You are…” and burst into laughter. Mr A was the man Stefan spoke with in the garden after a guest disrupted the dinner party with his jokes.
“You are Frank,” Stefan began.
“Yes, but I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I was rather drunk.”
“Stefan - you asked if it was Stephen - do you remember.” Frank shook his head. “Is it OK if I call you Frank?”
“Please don’t. My name is Alexander Franklin. My friends call me Frank, but I would prefer it if you called me Alex.”
“Alexander Franklin. The Rain of the Dancers.”
“Yes, have you read it?”
“I loved it. It was a very important story for me. What a remarkable coincidence. Does it worry you that I know you; you were keen to remain anonymous?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Perhaps I should confirm the protocol and preconditions that govern the therapeutic situation.”
“That doesn’t bother me either. So what if I’m known by you? I would prefer a more relaxed open discussion anyway. I’d certainly like to hear your thoughts on my stories.”
“I would like nothing better than to discuss your stories, but we must abide by the rules of the therapeutic process.”
“Why do rules always spoil everything? Why can’t we do therapy and discuss our interests and thoughts?”
“Well, the therapeutic relationship is very particular, we shouldn’t compromise it. There is a professional code of behaviour here and we should take a few minutes to discuss whether I can properly continue to be your therapist?”
“Please don’t talk like this; it drives me crazy. Let’s forget about history. What’s the problem? Is it that we met once before or is it that you like my writing? For some reason I get the feeling that I trust you. I desperately need to be with someone I can trust. It’s also very intriguing for me to talk with someone who likes what I write.”
“Then you must agree to my conditions. I will spend an hour with you outside therapy - an hour when we can engage in an open and informal discussion - but afterwards we must formally debate our situation and make an agreement about the terms that will pertain to us if we are to proceed.”
Alex agreed. Stefan was relieved. He could think of nothing more delightful than talking with the author of The Rain of the Dancers. The coincidence amazed him. Here was a client who had written about the drama of his therapist’s internal world long before he had met him. He wondered how he would tell Alex that they were both haunted by their inability to express their sexuality and manhood. Stefan had a million questions that demanded his attention, but he decided to ask Alex to talk about The Rain of the Dancers.
“I’ll tell you how I wrote it,” said Alex, �
�the process is important. In an earlier book called, Seeking Chimera, I quoted Léon Lehuraux’s descriptions of voluptuous women dancers from the Sahara Desert. Léon was a French officer serving in Algeria some hundred years ago. I borrowed his text again for this story, which I started after reading an Algerian novel about a man with a broken nose. I can’t remember who it was by. I borrowed this man, invented the context and then I added all the Algerian female names I could find. Generally, my stories grow like this; out of a process of collage. Then I invite the story to tell itself.”
“Is this how you write all your books?”
“Yes, even when writing in collaboration with other people. Finding a potpourri of sources is part of my game. I’m interested in ‘borrowing.’ I do it as an artist might cut out pieces of paper to apply to an artwork. I’m also keen to re-interpret the meaning of the original; this makes it a more dynamic process. I simply allow myself the freedom of ‘reading between the lines.’ I allow my chapters to rise up spontaneously. I edit continuously, making personal leaps and wild suppositions; it’s a very unusual way of getting to the heart of the matter.”
“Don’t you feel the need to own your own subject?”
“No; what concerns me is keeping myself busy. My books are a composite construction that is continually translating and expanding itself. I don’t make demands on the text or the topic to become something. I know this might be seen as an avoidance tactic, but for me it’s a way of getting close to things with my eyes closed. I have a great respect for the primary material I am using and I am always faithful to the grace of the original. It’s a wonderful thing; learning from the felicities of other writers.”
“Isn’t the meaning important to you?” Stefan asked. “Would you write a story contrary to your beliefs?”
These were the beginning of an endless stream of questions.
“Are you aware of the powerful conclusion at the end of The Rain of the Dancers?”
“Do you realise the implications of describing a man who has found his inner child?”
“Did the birth of your creative spirit happen like this?”
“Was the story generated by a desire to begin again, to dump all the baggage of fear you had accumulated?”
Alex answered with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to each of Stefan’s questions and this left him frustrated.
“You must have an ambition,” Stefan exclaimed at last.
“Yes,” said Alex, “but I don’t predict it; I discover it. My stories are a multi-layered medley of tales, a quilt of many different materials that work together in an opaque way. Speed, chance and play keep preconceptions at bay, allowing the narrative to rise up in an unpredictable fashion. It’s an exercise in acceptance, taking what I find when I find it and joining it together before I have time to judge its connection.”
“I’m shocked by this apparent ease, by your ability to construct narratives out of scraps and stand back from meaning until you have divined it. Your description inspires me, but I have no idea how I’d use it.”
“Thank you. I wish I had a life that was as dynamic as my creative process. Sometimes I think that it is impossible to avoid disenchantment. Romance always hands out more failures than it does successes.”
“Is that how you feel about your love for X?”
“Are you referring to my wife?”
“Is Mrs X your wife?”
“No. I thought you said my ex, meaning my ex-wife.”
“I never realised you had been married.”
“Yes I was married. I felt like the man with the broken nose before I met her. At first I was deeply attracted to her, she excited me, but soon her ways became unfathomable to me. She was always acting mysteriously. It made me very jealous and she hated that. I was rather possessive of her and she wanted to be completely independent. She was very self-centred. You can’t remain married to someone who is more concerned with her dreams than she is with anything you might say or do. I couldn’t reach her. It drove me utterly mad. I suppose I just wanted to have fun; I wanted to be a child again. It’s not surprising that we broke up.”
Stefan was moved. It was obvious that Alex’s wife was not dissimilar to Mrs X. It seemed probable that Alex had invented and repeated an unsatisfactory role for himself each time a new woman came into his life.
“It’s important to move on,” Alex declared. “I have an unsettled nature. I have some success as a writer, but there is much more for me to do yet. I want my work to help me.”
“Do you enjoy being a writer?”
“I enjoy having a life where stories are constantly in the throes of development. I write because if I’m not being creative I’m miserable. I’m obsessive about occupying my time. Having said that I am in the habit of sabotaging myself; it’s maddening. I like to appear relaxed, but I’m not as easy going as I make out. I don’t like stress and I don’t pick fights. Oh stop…I hate talking about me. There are so many other, more interesting subjects. That must serve as my résumé.”
“That’s fine. Can I ask you about Mrs X?”
“Sure, ask about her; that horrid woman who hated me for loving her.”
“Is she the kind of woman who invites men to fetishize her and then objects if they want to realise their fantasy?”
“Can you really describe people like this?”
“Maybe not. Allow me to describe a situation. A man wants to be good and he also wants to misbehave. Sometimes, a man who is attracted to misbehaving is acting out a side of himself he hasn’t fully accepted; a thing he can’t bring into his life.”
“Why do you think I want to misbehave?”
“I don’t know; this isn’t instant therapy.”
“Let me answer for you. I want to misbehave because I’m a masochist with a sadistic superego. Your colleague was of this opinion. She thought I wanted to defile the gorgeous Mrs X and she’s wrong. She also imagined that I wanted to spoil the union of Mrs X and her husband. I don’t want to steal another man’s wife, I just want to enjoy the excitement she promised. She also wanted to behave badly, so the truth was, I fulfilled her desire as long as it lasted.”
“So, you want to feel like a man, not a seducer.”
“Are you saying I’m not confident about being a man? My big problem is that I can’t be a man with another woman and I can’t get this woman to let me behave like a man. I wasn’t the seducer. She wanted to start things off and then she wanted to cut it short.”
“The problem with fantasy escapades is that they hardly ever turn into lasting relationships. A short-lived manhood seems inevitable in such cases. You need a long term manhood if you are to avoid disappointment.”
“But I have a long term manhood, I’m just lacking a lover, or to be specific, a particular lover.”
“OK, then I’ll use the term responsible manhood. It probably doesn’t attract you or match the idea you have of yourself. Would you say that responsibility is high on your agenda?”
“Are you saying that I don’t care about others?”
“Obviously you do or you wouldn’t write. What I want to talk about is a man who doesn’t want to be too good.”
“And can I ask why?”
“Because possibly you don’t want an equal partnership. Mrs X hasn’t the slightest interest in being your lover, but rather than find a relationship that makes demands on your responsibility you prefer to hang on to your fantasy and your fetish.”
“I thought this wasn’t going to be a therapy session. But if you must know, it’s true. I have a fixation, but maybe you also have a fixation. You certainly have a professional life that causes you to overplay your good side. What do you do when you are not supporting your clients? Do you have a fulfilling love life?”
“It’s not appropriate for me to talk about my love life.”
“Why? I thought this was to be an open discussion.”
“It is, but I wanted to determine if we could actually engage in a critical relationship or if you wanted special treat
ment. Artists are often uneasy unless they are praised and celebrated.”
“So what would you do if you were my therapist?”
“I’d focus my energies on preventing what is vulnerable in you from breaking apart and causing you pain.”
“How would you go about stopping my pain?”
“I’d try to locate the extreme inclinations that are fighting for your attention. These inclinations are very important; they define you in different ways. Once we have identified them, I’d try to help you embrace them.”
“And from the therapeutic point of view, what are extreme inclinations? Being good - a man who writes for others. Being bad - a man who wantonly breaks up families.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m not actually interested in therapy anymore.”
“Why’s that?”
“I can’t be bothered with Mrs X any more either.”
“Is that because you want to control the conversation?”
“No, it’s because I’m fed up with listening to bland theories that confidently insist they’re correct. Everything you say is a sensible suggestion. What I want is interesting debate. I’m bored with all this good advice. It doesn’t touch me. I can have sensible discussions all day, every day. I want something else.”
“Maybe you find it too painful to talk about Mrs X.”
“Why do you always want to return to the same subject? I love women. I love beauty. I want to honour beauty, not smash it apart. I love Mrs X; she’s beautiful. I don’t want to defile her. This is your fantasy. I just think about her curves too much.”
The Analyst Page 7