you? When I was a student you lectured brilliantly on
modes of philosophical argument. What kind of argument
is this? Truth by proclamation? Truth by appeal to
authority? That's the way of religion, and yet surely you
follow Schopenhauer in his atheism. And has it occurred to
you that Schopenhauer was chronically depressed and that
the Buddha lived in a place and at a time when human
suffering--pestilence, starvation--was rampant and that,
indeed, life then was unmitigated suffering for most? Has it
occurred--"
"What kind of philosophic argument is
that
?"
retorted Philip. "Every halfway literate sophomore student
knows the difference between genesis and validity."
"Wait, wait," interjected Julius. "Let's pause for a
minute and check in." He scanned the group. "How are the
rest of you guys feeling about the last few minutes?"
"Good stuff," said Tony. "They were really duking it
out. But with padded gloves."
"Right, better than silent glares and hidden daggers,"
said Gill.
"Yeah, I liked it a lot better," agreed Bonnie. "Sparks
were flying between Pam and Philip but cooler sparks."
"Me, too," said Stuart, "until the last couple of
minutes."
"Stuart," said Julius, "in your first meeting here you
said your wife accused you of talking in telegrams."
"Yep, you're stingy today. A few more words won't
cost you any more," said Bonnie.
"Right. Maybe I'm regressing because...you know,
this being the next-to-last meeting. Can't be sure--I don't
feel sad; as usual I have to infer my feelings. Here's
something I do know, Julius. I love your taking care of me,
calling on me, staying on my case. How's that?"
"That's great, and I'll keep doing it. You said you
liked Pam and Philip talking 'until the last couple of
minutes.' So, what about those last minutes?"
"At first it felt good-natured--more like a family
squabble. But that last comment by Philip--that had a nasty
edge to it. I mean the comment starting with" Every
halfway literate sophomore student. "I didn't like that,
Philip. It was a put-down. If you said that to me, I'd have
felt insulted. And threatened--I'm not even sure what
philosophical arguement means."
"I agree with Stuart, "said Rebecca. "Tell me, Philip,
what
were
you feeling? Did you want to insult Pam?"
"Insult her? No, not at all. That was the last thing I
wanted to do," responded Philip. "I
felt...uh...
uplifted
or
released
--not sure of the right word--by her saying the iron was no longer red-hot. Let's
see, what else? I knew that one of her motives in bringing
in the quote by Epictetus was to trap and confound me.
That was obvious. But I kept in mind what Julius said to
me when I brought in that fable for him--that he was
pleased by the effort and the caring behind the act."
"So," said Tony, "let me pull a Julius. Here's what I
hear: you intended one thing but your words resulted in
another thing entirely."
Philip looked quizzical.
"I mean," said Tony, "you said that insulting Pam
was the last thing in the world you wanted to do. Yet that
was exactly what you did, wasn't it?"
Philip, reluctantly, nodded agreement.
"So," Tony continued, sounding like a triumphant
attorney in cross-examination, "you need to get your
intentions and your behavior on the same page. You need
to get them
congruent
--do I have the word right?" Tony looked at Julius who nodded his head. "And
that's
why you should be in therapy. Congruence is what therapy is all
about."
"Well argued," said Philip. "I have no
counterargument. You're right. That is why I need
therapy."
"What?" Tony could not believe his ears. He glanced
at Julius, who gave him an "atta boy" nod.
"Catch me, I'm going to faint," said Rebecca who
slumped back in her chair.
"Me, too," echoed Bonnie and Gill, slumping back as
well.
Philip looked around at the sight of half the group in
mock unconsciousness and, for the first time since entering
the group, grinned.
Philip ended the group levity by returning to the
issue of his personal approach to counseling. "Rebecca's
discussion of Schopenhauer's tombstone comment implies
that my approach or any approach based on his point of
view is invalid. Lest you forget, I struggled for years with a serious affliction which Julius failed to cure, and I was only healed by patterning my path upon Schopenhauer's."
Julius instantly supported Philip. "I don't deny
you've done good work. Most therapists today would say
it's not possible to overcome a severe sex addiction on your
own. Contemporary treatment involves long-term work--I
mean many years--in a structured recovery program
consisting of individual therapy and groups meeting
multiple times a week often along twelve-step principles.
But no such recovery program existed back then, and,
frankly, I doubt whether you would have found it
compatible.
"So," Julius continued, "I want to go on record as
saying that your feat is remarkable: the techniques by
which you controlled your runaway drives worked--better
than anything I offered, even though I gave it my best
shot."
"I've never thought otherwise," said Philip.
"But, here's a question, Philip, is there a possibility
your methods are now superannuated?"
"Super...what?" asked Tony.
"Superannuated," whispered Philip, who was sitting
next to Tony--super (Latin for
beyond
) plus annus
(
years
)--in other words,
outmoded, obsolete.
"
Tony nodded thanks.
"The other day," Julius continued, "when I was
wondering how to bring this home to you, an image came
to mind. Imagine an ancient city that built a high wall to
protect it from the wild torrents of an adjacent river.
Centuries later, though the river had long dried up, the city
still invested considerable resources in maintaining that
wall."
"You mean," said Tony, "continuing to use some
solution even when the problem had gone away--like
wearing a bandage long after the cut had healed."
"Precisely," said Julius. "Maybe the bandage is a
better metaphor--right to the point."
"I don't agree," Philip addressed both Julius and
Tony, "that my wound is healed or that containment is no
longer necessary. For proof one need only look at my
extreme discomfort levels in this group."
"That's not a good measure," said Julius. "You've
had little experience with intimacy, with expressing
feelings directly, with getting feedback and disclosing
yourself. This is new for you; you've been in seclusion for
years, and I toss you into this high-powered group.
Of
course
that's going to feel uncomfortable. But what I'm really referring to is the overt problem, the sexual
compulsion--and perhaps that's gone. You're older, been
through a lot, maybe you've entered the land of gonadal
tranquillity. Nice place, good sunny climate. I've dwelled
there comfortably for many years."
"I would say," Tony added, "that Schopenhauer has
cured you, but now you need to be saved from the
Schopenhauer cure."
Philip opened his mouth to respond but then closed it
and pondered Tony's statement.
"Another thing," Julius added, "when you think
about your stress in the group, don't forget the heavy-duty
pain and guilt you've faced here as a result of a chance
encounter with a person from your past."
"I've heard nothing about guilt from Philip," said
Pam.
Philip responded instantly, facing Pam. "If I had
known
then
what I know
now
about the years of pain you've suffered,
I would never have done what I did.
As I said before, you were unlucky to have crossed my path. The
person I was then did not think of consequences. Automatic
pilot--that person was on automatic pilot."
Pam nodded and caught his glance. Philip held it for
a moment and then turned his attention back to Julius. "I
grasp your point about the magnitude of the interpersonal
stress in this group, but I insist that is only part of the
picture. And it is here that our basic orientations are at
odds. I agree there is stress in relationships with other
beings. And possibly reward as well--I'll grant you that
last point though I myself have never known it.
Nonetheless, I'm convinced that in the very state of
existing there is tragedy and suffering. Permit me to cite
Schopenhauer for only two minutes."
Without waiting for a response, Philip, staring
upward, began reciting:
In the first place a man never is happy but spends his
whole life in striving after something which he thinks
will make him so; he seldom attains his goal and, when
he does it is only to be disappointed: he is mostly
shipwrecked in the end, and comes into harbor with
masts and riggings gone. And then it is all one whether
he has been happy or miserable; for his life was never
anything more than a present moment, always
vanishing; and now it is over.
After a long silence Rebecca said, "That sends
shivers up my back."
"I know what you mean," said Bonnie.
"I know I'm sounding like an uptight English
professor," said Pam, addressing the entire group, "but I
urge you, don't be misled by rhetoric. That quote adds
nothing of substance to what Philip has been saying all
along; it only says it more persuasively. Schopenhauer was
a brilliant stylist and wrote the best prose of any
philosopher. Except for Nietzsche, of course--no one
wrote better than Nietzsche."
"Philip, I want to respond to your comment about
our basic orientations," said Julius. "I don't believe we're
as far apart as you think. I don't disagree with much that
you and Schopenhauer have said about the tragedy of the
human condition. Where you go east and I go west is when
we turn to the question of
what to do about it.
How shall we live? How to face our mortality? How to live with the
knowledge that we are simply life-forms, thrown into an
indifferent universe, with no preordained purpose?
"As you know," Julius continued, "though I'm more
interested in philosophy than most therapists, I'm no
expert. Yet, I'm aware of other bold thinkers who have not
flinched from these raw facts of life and who have arrived
at entirely different solutions than Schopenhauer. I'm
thinking particularly of Camus, Sartre, and Nietzsche, who
all advocate life engagement rather than Schopenhauer's
pessimistic resignation. The one I know best is Nietzsche.
You know, when I first received my diagnosis and was in a
state of panic, I opened
Thus Spoke Zarathustra
and was both calmed and inspired--especially by his life—
celebratory comment that we should live life in such a
manner that we'd say yes if we were offered the
opportunity to live our life again and again in precisely the
same manner."
"How did that relieve you?" asked Philip.
"I looked at my life and felt that I had lived it right--
no regrets from
inside
though, of course, I hated the
outside events that took my wife from me. It helped me decide how
I should live my remaining days: I should continue doing
exactly what had always offered me satisfaction and
meaning."
"I didn't know that about you and Nietzsche, Julius,"
said Pam. "It makes me feel even closer to you
because Zarathustra, melodramatic as it is, remains one of my absolutely favorite books. And I'll tell you my favorite
quote from it. It's when Zarathustra says, ' Was that life?
Well, then, once again! ' I love people who embrace life and get turned off by those who shrink away from it--I'm
thinking of Vijay in India. Next ad I run in a personal
column maybe I'll post that Nietzsche quote and the
Schopenhauer tombstone quote side-by-side and ask
respondents to choose between them. That would winnow
out the nay-sayers.
"I have another thought I want to share." Pam turned
to face Philip. "I guess it's obvious that after the last
meeting I thought about you a lot. I'm teaching a course on
biography, and in my reading last week I ran across an
amazing passage in Erik Erikson's biography of Martin
Luther. It goes something like this: 'Luther elevated his own neurosis to that of a universal patient-hood and then tried to solve for the world what he could not solve for himself.' I believe that Schopenhauer, like Luther, seriously fell into
this error and that you've followed his lead."