Pathway or Highway?

I have heard two definitions of psychotherapy I’d like to consider. The first one was in a newsletter of my friend and colleague, Dr. Robin Dilley: “a journey into one’s self to help facilitate a deeper awareness about one’s self while developing a passion for living”. The second definition was provided by a psychologist working for a very large managed care firm in town: the process whereby change is made in symptoms that can be measured and that is a result of interaction between a therapist and a client. He went on to state that ideally this should be quick and not a journey on a path but rather a trip down a super highway. Hmm.

I suppose that there is truth in both definitions although those who know me can probably guess that I align myself much more along the lines of Dr. Dilley’s definition than that provided through managed care. Do we want to settle with getting rid of the stuffy nose or do we want to live a life that is challenging, health producing, and joyful? Now the truth is that our insurance policies don’t always pay for the second. After all, the insurance contract is not a personal growth policy but rather a contract that agrees to provide services to return a person to their prior level of functioning.

I urge you not to settle for your prior level of functioning. We only go through this life once, and it is our choice how we live it. To live at your prior level of functioning means that you don’t take the opportunity to grow spiritually, emotionally, mentally and psychologically. It means you do choose to stay where you are. If you are on the pathway then you are choosing to see the ground beneath your feet, smell the air and the flowers around you, hear the sounds of the birds and the animals that are scuttling about. If you choose the super highway you get a fast trip with no smells, few sights and the blare of the other vehicles and their horns blowing.

This year, you can choose the pathway. In her book, “The Invitation”, Oriah Mountain Dreamer speaks of the invitation to live, to grow, to experience life. Much of what she suggests is part of the psychotherapy adventure: “I want to know you can live with failure, yours and mine.” — It is as we face our failures and our successes with another that we learn how to live with them. Psychotherapy provides this opportunity. “I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.” I would add, can you also stay in bed when you truly need to and take care of yourself? So often we take care of others but ignore ourselves.

Psychotherapy provides time and attention for our own needs and it is through taking time for oneself that one becomes available to others in a truly free and honest manner. Thus so, one can be seen in pain and not need to hide.

“I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back” is a superb description of the group experience one can have through psychotherapy. The women’s groups I have had the privilege of facilitating have born out women choosing to stand in the fire with others and bearing testimony to the pain and the growth.

“I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments”. Ah, the most profound and deeply felt successful therapeutic experience will allow you to say “YES” to this experience.

I would invite those of you currently doing your own therapy to examine your journaling, your heart, your soul to see if you are walking on the path or whether you’ve stopped to enjoy a piece of the scenery. Is it time to move on? Take that next step? Then ask your therapist for assistance with this. If you have been considering taking such a hike, I invite you to call and schedule an appointment with me. If you are already walking down this pathway, enjoy the walk and know it will lead you to further peace, further ability to stand in the fire, and deeper, more meaningful life experiences. As Oriah Mountain Dreamer says, “I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.”

Autumn: A Time of Letting Go

As I reflect on my summer, and on what the next 3 months will bring, I want to move through the last quarter of the year peacefully.  There are changes that always come in the fall; although schedules get back to normal in September with all back in school it is quickly followed by holiday time and the schedule that gets even busier than normal.  And yet autumn is my favorite time of year, by far.  I enjoy the hope of spring, the relaxation of summer, the meditation and new beginnings of winter.  But fall is when my heart and being are calmest, the feel of the season flows deeply in my being, and the smells, sounds, and sights are most meaningful and enjoyable to me.  Fall is home, it’s family, it’s love.  Spiritually it’s a time of balancing light and dark, letting go, and deeper understanding that nothing is permanent.  Think about nature:  we are moving to more balance between sun and darkness, the leaves are falling from the trees, and we learn that even what we enjoy in the summer flowers and play must end as we move forward.

As we face the changes in the season (granted, more slowly in Arizona), it’s a time to take stock.  What are you holding onto that might be better let go of in your life?  In speaking of letting go recently with someone I noted that we often think of it as a one-time action, like letting go of a balloon.  While letting go is actually more of a process when it comes to the psychological and spiritual realms.  When a loved one dies, for example, there are twists and turns in letting go of the person as they were here, and adjusting our life patterns accordingly.  Or when we leave a   career, it’s an action of walking out the door the last time, but we still must integrate into our lives the new career or job or retirement.  There is more than the one moment in time.

What are you in the process of letting go of?  How are you being asked to recognize the impermanence of something in life?  Where is balance off in your life?

Here’s a simple journaling exercise to do around this topic:

Consider and write down your answers to the above questions.  Or, if writing isn’t your thing, draw a picture to represent it.

Include in your writing, or picture, words and colors and shapes to represent how you feel about this change or loss.

Next, write or draw a picture to represent the ways in which this release might be beneficial to you.

Find an object to represent this change you are moving through, this period or experience or person or whatever it is that you must let go of in your life.

Finally, put this object in a meaningful place to remind you of the letting go you are in the process of.  Let this encourage you to allow this to happen a moment at a time, a day at a time.  It takes time for a leaf to fall, allow yourself time to let go of the leaf in your life.

I believe if we face this fall with such action, and using our spiritual resources to encourage and help us to take the steps needed in letting go, we will reach winter in December and be ready for the new beginnings of January.  Don’t rush this fall.  Inhale the pumpkin and cinnamon smells, enjoy the early morning or evening walks that are a little cooler,  decorate a part of your home with fall leaves, pumpkins, or corn husks, and spend some time each day breathing in the depth and wisdom in the letting go.  And as you do so, remember:

Autumn . . . makes a double demand.
It asks that we prepare for the future–that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping.
But it also asks that we learn to let go–to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness.
by Bonaro Overstreet

Reflecting on summer and life-long relationships

While walking on the beach of the Hotel del Coronado in San Diego I had the opportunity to collect and marvel over many beautiful shells. Each shell was unique in color, shape, texture, scent. One in particular reminded me of a part of Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh: “It (the shell) was handed to me by a friend. One does not often come across such a perfect double-sunrise shell. Both halves of this delicate bivalve were exactly matched. Each side, like the wing of a butterfly, was marked with the same patterns; translucent white, except for three rose rays that fanned out from the golden hinge binding the two together… I wonder how the fragile perfection survived the breakers on the beach. Isn’t the same true of our closest relationships, and in particular those with our partners?

When we are in an intimate relationship, be it a friendship or love relationship, that relationship is subject to the crash of the sea waves, the intensity of a summer sun, the weathering of rough winds. And yet, it is not unusual for us to spend less time, effort, and concern in protecting this relationship than we spend taking care of our homes.

In relationships with close friends and lovers we work together, play together, cry together. The seas, however, can crush upon us. Disagreements, dashed plans, separations, disappointments, differing life paths cause the shells of our friendships to be changed as the water and weather change the shells we collect on the sand. The intensity of summer sun also burns us individually and in relationships over the years. The hours working together strain, the illnesses worry, the changes in each bring fear for the survival of the relationship. And, the winds of life whip us. These are times we choose to be present and close for the other as confidante, gentle helper, encourager.

While summer storms do threaten to break our shells Lindbergh reminds us: “it (change) moves us to another phase of growth which one should not dread, but welcome.” This fall, pick up the shells of your relationships and brush them off. Wash the sand off the delicate patterns engraved over the years. Celebrate their beauty and commit again to keep the shell. As Heller quotes 53 year old Roberto in Little Lessons of Love: “love endures because you want it to, not by accident”. That’s the most important thing to remember.