The Road

Less Traveled,
25th Anniversary Edition
A NEW PSYCHOLOGY OF LOVE,
TRADITIONAL VALUES AND SPIRITUAL
GROWTH
M. SCOTT PECK, M.D.
A Touchston !oo" Pu#$%sh& #' S%(on ) Schust* N+ Yo*" , Lon&on ,
To*onto , S'&n'
INTRODUCTION
Introduction to the 25th Anniversary Edition
To(o**o+ - st*-n.* +%$$ s-' +%th (-st*$' .oo& sns /*c%s$' +h-t
+ h-0 thou.ht -n& 1$t -$$ th t%(.
2R-$/h W-$&o E(*son, 3S$1
R$%-nc3
Th (ost co((on *s/ons I h-0 *c%0& to The Road Less Traveled %n
$tt*s 1*o( *-&*s h-s #n on o1 .*-t%tu& 1o* (' cou*-., not 1o* s-'%n.
-n'th%n. n+, #ut 1o* +*%t%n. -#out th "%n& o1 th%n.s th' h-& #n th%n"%n.
-n& 1$%n. -$$ -$on., #ut +* -1*-%& to t-$" -#out.
I -( not c$-* -#out th (-tt* o1 cou*-.. A c*t-%n "%n& o1 con.n%t-$
o#$%0%ousnss (%.ht # - (o* /*o/* t*(. A /-t%nt o1 (%n &u*%n. th
#oo"4s -*$' &-'s h-//n& to # -t - coc"t-%$ /-*t' +h* sh o0*h-*& -
con0*s-t%on #t+n (' (oth* -n& -noth* $&*$' +o(-n. R1**%n. to th
#oo", th oth* +o(-n s-%&, 3You c*t-%n$' (ust # 0*' /*ou& o1 'ou* son,
Scott'.3 To +h%ch (' (oth* */$%&, %n th so(t%(s t-*t +-' o1 th $&*$',
3P*ou&5 No, not /-*t%cu$-*$'. It &%&n4t h-0 -n'th%n. to &o +%th (. It4s h%s
(%n&, 'ou s. It4s - .%1t.3 I th%n" (' (oth* +-s +*on. .1 s-'%n. th-t sh h-&
noth%n. to &o +%th %t, #ut I th%n" sh +-s -ccu*-t (' -utho*sh%/ o1 The Road
+-s th *su$t o1 - .%1t2on (-n' $0$s.
On /-*t o1 th-t .%1t .os +-' #-c". L%$', (' +%1, -n& I h-& (-& 1*%n&s
+%th - 'oun.* (-n, To(, +ho h-& .*o+n u/ %n th 6%( su((* co$on' -s I.
Du*%n. thos su((*s I h-& /$-'& 7h h%s o$&* #*oth*s, -n& h%s (oth* h-&
"no+n ( -s - ch%$&. On n%.ht - 1+ '-*s #1o* The Road +-s /u#$%sh&.
Tom was coming to have dinner with us. He was staying
with his mother at the time, and the evening before he had
said to her, !om, I"m going to have dinner tomorrow night
with #cott $ec%. Do you remember him&
Oh yes, she res'onded, he was that (itt(e boy who was
a(ways ta(%ing about the %inds of things that 'eo'(e
shou(dn"t ta(% about.
#o you can see that 'art of the gift goes way bac%. )nd
you may a(so understand I was something of a stranger
within the 'revai(ing cu(ture of my youth.
#ince I was an un%nown author, The Road was 'ub(ished
without fanfare. Its astonishing commercia( success was a
very gradua( 'henomenon. It did not a''ear on the nationa(
bestse((er (ists unti( five years after its 'ub(ication in *+,-.a
fact for which I am e/treme(y gratefu(. Had it been an
overnight success I doubt very much that I wou(d have
been mature enough to hand(e sudden fame. In any case, it
was a s(ee'er and what is ca((ed in the trade a word.of.
mouth boo%. #(ow(y at first, %now(edge of it s'read by
word of mouth by severa( routes. One of them was
)(coho(ics )nonymous. Indeed, the very first fan (etter I
received began0 Dear Dr. $ec%, you must be an a(coho(ic1
The writer found it difficu(t to imagine that I cou(d have
written such a boo% without having been a (ong.term
member of )) and humb(ed by a(coho(ism.
Had The Road been 'ub(ished twenty years 'revious(y, I
doubt it wou(d have been even s(ight(y successfu(.
)(coho(ics )nonymous did not rea((y get off the ground unti(
the mid.*+23s 4not that most of the boo%"s readers were
a(coho(ics5. 6ven more im'ortant, the same was true for the
'ractice of 'sychothera'y. The resu(t was that by *+,-,
when The Road was origina((y 'ub(ished, a (arge number of
women and men in the United #tates were both
INTRODUCTION
'sycho(ogica((y and s'iritua((y so'histicated and had begun
to dee'(y contem'(ate a(( the %inds of things that 'eo'(e
shou(dn"t ta(% about. They were a(most (itera((y waiting for
some.one to say such things out (oud.
#o it was that the 'o'u(arity of The Road snowba((ed,
and so it is
Introduction 7
that its 'o'u(arity has continued. 6ven toward the end of
my career on the (ecture circuit, I wou(d te(( my audiences0
7ou are not an average cross section of )merica.
However, there are stri%ing things that you have in
common. One is the remar%ab(e number of you who have
during the course of your (ives undergone..or are sti((
undergoing.significant 'sychothera'y either within the
Twe(ve #te' 'rograms or at the hands of tradi tiona(
academica((y trained thera'ists. I doubt you wi(( fee( that I
am vio(ating your confidentia(ity when I as% a(( of you here
who have received or are receiving such thera'y to raise
your hands.
Ninety.five 'ercent of my audience wou(d raise their
hands. Now (oo% around, I wou(d te(( them.
This has ma8or im'(ications, I wou(d then continue.
One of them is that you are a body of 'eo'(e who have
begun to transcend traditiona( cu(ture. 9y transcending
traditiona( cu(ture I meant, among other things, that they
were 'eo'(e who had (ong begun to thin% about the %inds
of things that 'eo'(e shou(dn"t ta(% about. )nd they wou(d
agree when I e(aborated on what I meant by transcending
traditiona( cu(ture and the e/traordinary significance of
this 'henomenon.
) few have ca((ed me a 'ro'het. I can acce't such a
seeming(y grandiose tit(e on(y because many have 'ointed
out that a 'ro'het is not someone who can see the future,
but mere(y someone who can read the signs of the times.
The Road was a success 'rimari(y because it was a boo%
for its time: its audience made it a success.
!y naive fantasy when The Road first came out twenty.
five years ago was that it wou(d be reviewed in
news'a'ers throughout the nation. The rea(ity was that,
by 'ure grace, it received a sing(e review . . . but what a
review1 ;or a significant 'art of the success of the boo% I
must give credit to $hy((is Therou/. $hy((ie, a very fine
author in her own right, was a(so a boo% reviewer at the
time and accidenta((y ha''ened to discover an advance
co'y among a 'i(e of boo%s in the office of the boo% editor
of The Washington Post. )fter scanning the tab(e of
contents she too% it home with her, returning two days
(ater to demand she be a((owed to review
it. )(most re(uctant(y the editor agreed, whereu'on $hy((ie
set out, in her own words, to de(iberate(y craft a review
that wou(d ma%e the boo% a bestse((er. )nd so she did.
<ithin a wee% of her review The Road was on the
<ashington, D.C., bestse((er (ist, years before it wou(d get
on any nationa( (ist. It was 8ust enough, however, to get the
boo% started.
I am gratefu( to $hy((is for another reason. )s the boo%
grew in 'o'u(arity, wanting to assure that I wou(d have the
humi(ity to %ee' my feet on the ground, she to(d me, It"s
not your boo%, you %now.
Immediate(y I understood what she meant. In no way do
either of us mean that The Road as the (itera( word of
=od or otherwise channe(ed

materia(. I did the writing,

and there are a number of '(aces in the boo% where I wish
I had chosen better words or 'hrases. It is not 'erfect, and I
am who((y res'onsib(e for its f(aws. Nonethe(ess, 'erha's
because it was needed, des'ite its f(aws, there is no
>uestion in my mind that as I wrote the boo% in the
so(itude of my cram'ed (itt(e office I had he('. I rea((y
cannot e/'(ain that he(', but the e/'erience of it is hard(y
uni>ue. Indeed, such he(' is the u(timate sub8ect of the
boo% itse(f.
!ont ent s
Introduction to the 25th Anniversary Edition 5
Pre"ace
**
I0 DI#CI$?IN6
$rob(ems and $ain
*
2
De(aying =ratification *-
The #ins of the ;ather @*
$rob(em.#o(ving and Time @,
Res'onsibi(ity A@
Neuroses and Character Disorders A2
6sca'e from ;reedom A+
Dedication to Rea(ity BB
Transference0 The Outdated !a' BC
O'enness to Cha((enge 2*
<ithho(ding Truth 2+
9a(ancing CB
The Hea(thiness of De'ression C+
Renunciation and Rebirth ,@
II0 ?OD6
?ove Defined -*
;a((ing in ?ove -B
The !yth of Romantic ?ove +*
!ore )bout 6go 9oundaries +B
De'endency +-
Cathe/is <ithout ?ove *3C
#e(f.#acrifice ***
?ove Is Not a ;ee(ing **C
*3 CONT6NT#
The <or% of )ttention *@3
The Ris% of ?oss *A*
The Ris% of Inde'endence *AB
The Ris% of Commitment *B3
The Ris% of Confrontation *23
?ove Is Disci'(ined *22
?ove Is #e'arateness *C3
?ove and $sychothera'y *C+
The !ystery of ?ove
*-3
III0 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
<or(d Diews and Re(igion *-2
The Re(igion of #cience *+A
The Case of Eathy *+,
The Case of !arcia @3-
The Case of Theodore @*3
The 9aby and the 9ath <ater @@*
#cientific Tunne( Dision @@2
ID0 =R)C6
The !irac(e of Hea(th @A2
The !irac(e of the Unconscious @BA
The !irac(e of #erendi'ity
25
#
The Definition of =race @C3
The !irac(e of 6vo(ution @CA
The )('ha and the Omega @C-
6ntro'y and Origina( #in @,*
The $rob(em of 6vi( @,,
The 6vo(ution of Consciousness @-3
The Nature of $ower @-B
=race and !enta( I((ness0 The !yth of Orestes @-+
Resistance to =race @+,
The <e(coming of =race A3C
A"ter ord
#1
2
Pre"ace
The ideas herein 'resented stem, for the most 'art, from
my day.to.day c(inica( wor% with 'atients as they strugg(ed
to avoid or to gain ever greater (eve(s of maturity.
Conse>uent(y, this boo% contains 'ortions of many actua(
case histories. Confidentia(ity is essentia( to 'sychiatric
'ractice, and a(( case descri'tions, there.fore, have been
a(tered in name and in other 'articu(ars so as to 'reserve
the anonymity of my 'atients without distorting the
essentia( rea(ity of our e/'erience with each other.
There may, however, be some distortion by virtue of the
brevity of the case 'resentations. $sychothera'y is se(dom a
brief 'rocess, but since I have, of necessity, focused on the
high(ights of a case, the reader may be (eft with the
im'ression that the 'rocess is one of drama and c(arity. The
drama is rea( and c(arity may eventua((y be achieved, but it
shou(d be remembered that in the interest of readabi(ity,
accounts of the (engthy 'eriods of confusion and frustration
inherent in most thera'y have been omitted from these
case descri'tions.
I wou(d a(so (i%e to a'o(ogiFe for continua((y referring to
=od in the traditiona((y mascu(ine image, but I have done
so in the interest of sim'(icity rather than from any rigid(y
he(d conce't as to gender.
)s a 'sychiatrist, I fee( it is im'ortant to mention at the
outset two assum'tions that under(ie this boo%. One is that
I ma%e no distinction between the mind and the s'irit, and
therefore no distinction between the 'rocess of achieving
s'iritua( growth and achieving menta( growth. They are one
and the same.
The other assum'tion is that this 'rocess is a com'(e/,
arduous and (ife(ong tas%. $sychothera'y, if it is to 'rovide
substantia( assistance to the 'rocess of menta( and s'iritua(
growth, is not a >uic% or sim'(e 'rocedure. I do not be(ong
to any 'articu(ar schoo( of 'sychiatry or 'sychothera'y: I
am not sim'(y a ;reudian or Gungian or )d(erian or
behaviorist or gesta(tist. I do not be(ieve there are any
sing(e easy answers. I be(ieve that brief forms of
'sychothera'y may be he('fu( and are not to be decried,
but the he(' they 'rovide is inevitab(y su'erficia(.
Th 8ou*n' o1 s/%*%tu-$ .*o+th %s - $on. on. I +ou$& $%" to
th-n" thos o1 (' /-t%nts +ho h-0 .%0n ( th /*%0%$. o1
-cco(/-n'%n. th( 1o* (-8o* /o*t%ons o1 th%* 8ou*n'. Fo*
th%* 8ou*n' h-s -$so #n (%n, -n& (uch o1 +h-t %s /*snt&
h* %s +h-t + h-0 $-*n& to.th*. I +ou$& -$so $%" to
th-n" (-n' o1 (' t-ch*s -n& co$$-.us. P*%nc%/-$ -(on.
th( %s (' +%1, L%$'. Sh h-s #n so .%0%n. th-t %t %s h-*&$'
/oss%#$ to &%st%n.u%sh h* +%s&o( -s - s/ous, /-*nt,
/s'choth*-/%st, -n& /*son 1*o( (' o+n.
?ife is difficu(t.
This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. H It is a great
truth because once we tru(y see this truth, we transcend it.
Once we tru(y %now that (ife is difficu(t.once we tru(y un.
derstand and acce't it.then (ife is no (onger difficu(t. 9e.
cause once it is acce'ted, the fact that (ife is difficu(t no (onger
matters.
!ost do not fu((y see this truth that (ife is difficu(t. Instead
they moan more or (ess incessant(y, noisi(y or subt(y, about
the enormity of their 'rob(ems, their burdens, and their dif.
ficu(ties as if (ife were genera((y easy, as if (ife should be
easy. They voice their be(ief, noisi(y or subt(y, that their
difficu(ties re'resent a uni>ue %ind of aff(iction that shou(d
not be and that has somehow been es'ecia((y visited u'on
them, or e(se u'on their fami(ies, their tribe, their c(ass, their
nation, their race or even their s'ecies, and not u'on others.
I %now about this moaning because I have done my share.
?ife is a series of 'rob(ems. Do we want to moan about
them or so(ve them& Do we want to teach our chi(dren to
so(ve them&
Disci'(ine is the basic set of too(s we re>uire to so(ve (ife"s
'rob(ems. <ithout disci'(ine we can so(ve nothing. <ith on(y
H The first of the ;our Nob(e Truths

which 9uddha taught

was ?ife is suffering.
Pro$le%s and Pain
DISCIPLINE
some disci'(ine we can so(ve on(y some 'rob(ems. <ith tota(
disci'(ine we can so(ve a(( 'rob(ems.
<hat ma%es (ife difficu(t is that the 'rocess of confronting
and so(ving 'rob(ems is a 'ainfu( one. $rob(ems, de'ending
u'on their nature, evo%e in us frustration or grief or sadness
or (one(iness or gui(t or regret or anger or fear or an/iety or
anguish or des'air. These are uncomfortab(e fee(ings, often
very uncomfortab(e, often as 'ainfu( as any %ind of 'hysica(
'ain, sometimes e>ua(ing the very worst %ind of 'hysica(
'ain. Indeed, it is $ecause of the 'ain that events or
conf(icts engender in us a(( that we ca(( them 'rob(ems. )nd
since (ife 'oses an end(ess series of 'rob(ems, (ife is a(ways
difficu(t and is fu(( of 'ain as we(( as 8oy.
7et it is in this who(e 'rocess of meeting and so(ving 'rob.
(ems that (ife has its meaning. $rob(ems are the cutting edge
that distinguishes between success and fai(ure. $rob(ems ca((
forth our courage and our wisdom: indeed, they create our
courage and our wisdom. It is on(y because of 'rob(ems that
we grow menta((y and s'iritua((y. <hen we desire to encour.
age the growth of the human s'irit, we cha((enge and
encourage the human ca'acity to so(ve 'rob(ems, 8ust as in
schoo( we de(iberate(y set 'rob(ems for our chi(dren to so(ve.
It is through the 'ain of confronting and reso(ving 'rob(ems
that we (earn. )s 9en8amin ;ran%(in said, Those things that
hurt, instruct. It is for this reason that wise 'eo'(e (earn not
to dread but actua((y to we(come 'rob(ems and actua((y to
we(come the 'ain of 'rob(ems.
!ost of us are not so wise. ;earing the 'ain invo(ved, a(.
most a(( of us, to a greater or (esser degree, attem't to avoid
'rob(ems. <e 'rocrastinate, ho'ing that they wi(( go away.
<e ignore them, forget them, 'retend they do not e/ist. <e
even ta%e drugs to assist us in ignoring them, so that by
deadening ourse(ves to the 'ain we can forget the 'rob(ems
that cause the 'ain. <e attem't to s%irt around 'rob(ems
rather than meet them head on. <e attem't to get out of
them rather than suffer through them.
This tendency to avoid 'rob(ems and the emotiona( suffer.
Pro$le%s and Pain
ing inherent in them is the 'rimary basis of a(( human
menta( i((ness. #ince most of us have this tendency to a
greater or (esser degree, most of us are menta((y i(( to a
greater or (esser degree, (ac%ing com'(ete menta(
hea(th. #ome of us wi(( go to >uite e/traordinary (engths
to avoid our 'rob(ems and the suffering they cause,
'roceeding far afie(d from a(( that is c(ear(y good and
sensib(e in order to try to find an easy way out, bui(ding
the most e(aborate fantasies in which to (ive,
sometimes to the tota( e/c(usion of rea(ity. In the
succinct(y e(egant words of Car( Gung, Neurosis is
a(ways a substitute for (egitimate suffering. H
9ut the substitute itse(f u(timate(y becomes more
'ainfu( than the (egitimate suffering it was designed to
avoid. The neurosis itse(f becomes the biggest 'rob(em.
True to form, many wi(( then attem't to avoid this 'ain
and this 'rob(em in turn, bui(ding (ayer u'on (ayer of
neurosis. ;ortunate(y, how.ever, some 'ossess the
courage to face their neuroses and begin.usua((y with
the he(' of 'sychothera'y.to (earn how to e/'erience
(egitimate suffering. In any case, when we avoid the
(egitimate suffering that resu(ts from dea(ing with
'rob(ems, we a(so avoid the growth that 'rob(ems
demand from us. It is for this reason that in chronic
menta( i((ness we sto' growing, we become stuc%. )nd
without hea(ing, the human s'irit begins to shrive(.
Therefore (et us incu(cate in ourse(ves and in our
chi(dren the means of achieving menta( and s'iritua(
hea(th. 9y this I mean (et us teach ourse(ves and our
chi(dren the necessity for suffering and the va(ue
thereof, the need to face 'rob(ems direct(y and to
e/'erience the 'ain invo(ved. I have stated that
disci'(ine is the basic set of too(s we re>uire to so(ve
(ife"s 'rob(ems. It wi(( become c(ear that these too(s are
techni>ues of suffering, means by which we e/'erience
the 'ain of 'rob(ems in such a way as to wor% them
through and so(ve them
& !ollected Wor's o" !. (. )ung, 9o((ingen #er., No. @3, @d
ed. 4$rince.ton, N.G.0 $rinceton Univ. $ress, *+,A5, trans. R.
;. C. Hu((, Do( II, Psychology and Religion: West and East,
75.
Pro$le%s and Pain 9:
DI #CI $?I N6
successfu((y, (earning and growing in the 'rocess. <hen
we teach ourse(ves and our chi(dren disci'(ine, we are
teaching them and ourse(ves how to suffer and a(so how
to grow.
<hat are these too(s, these techni>ues of suffering,
these means of e/'eriencing the 'ain of 'rob(ems
constructive(y that I ca(( disci'(ine& There are four0
de(aying of gratification, acce'tance of res'onsibi(ity,
dedication to truth, and ba(ancing. )s wi(( be evident,
these are not com'(e/ too(s whose a''(ication demands
e/tensive training. To the contrary, they are sim'(e
too(s, and a(most a(( chi(dren are ade't in their use by
the age of ten. 7et 'residents and %ings wi(( often forget
to use them, to their own downfa((. The 'rob(em (ies not
in the com'(e/ity of these too(s but in the wi(( to use
them. ;or they are too(s with which 'ain is confronted
rather than avoided, and if one see%s to avoid (egitimate
suffering, then one wi(( avoid the use of these too(s.
Therefore, after ana(yFing each of these too(s, we sha((
in the ne/t section e/amine the wi(( to use them, which
is (ove.
*elaying (rati"ication
Not too (ong ago a thirty.year.o(d financia( ana(yst was
com'(aining to me over a 'eriod of months about her
tendency to 'rocrastinate in her 8ob, <e had wor%ed
through her fee(ings about her em'(oyers and how they
re(ated to fee(ings about authority in genera(, and to her
'arents s'ecifica((y. <e had e/amined her attitudes
toward wor% and success and how these re(ated to her
marriage, her se/ua( identity, her desire to com'ete
with her husband, and her fears of such com'etition. 7et
des'ite a(( this standard and 'ainsta%ing 'sychoana(ytic
wor%, she continued to 'rocrastinate.
*elaying (rati"ication
ate as much as ever. ;ina((y, one day, we dared to (oo% at
the obvious. Do you (i%e ca%e& I as%ed her. #he re'(ied
that she did. <hich 'art of the ca%e do you (i%e better, I
went on, the ca%e or the frosting& Oh, the frosting1 she
res'onded enthusiastica((y. )nd how do you eat a 'iece of
ca%e& I in>uired, fee(ing that I must be the most inane
'sychiatrist that ever (ived. I eat the frosting first, of
course, she re'(ied. ;rom her ca%e.eating habits we went
on to e/amine her wor% habits, and, as was to be e/'ected,
discovered that on any given day she wou(d devote the first
hour to the more gratifying ha(f of her wor% and the
remaining si/ hours getting around to the ob8ectionab(e
remainder. I suggested that if she were to force herse(f to
accom'(ish the un'(easant 'art of her 8ob during the first
hour, she wou(d then be free to en8oy the other si/. It
seemed to me, I said, that one hour of 'ain fo((owed by si/
of '(easure was 'referab(e to one hour of '(easure fo((owed
by si/ of 'ain. #he agreed, and, being basica((y a 'erson of
strong wi((, she no (onger 'rocrastinates.
De(aying gratification is a 'rocess of schedu(ing the 'ain
and '(easure of (ife in such a way as to enhance the
'(easure by meeting and e/'eriencing the 'ain first and
getting it over with. It is the on(y decent way to (ive.
This too( or 'rocess of schedu(ing is (earned by most chi(.
dren >uite ear(y in (ife, sometimes as ear(y as age five. ;or
instance, occasiona((y a five.year.o(d when '(aying a game
with a com'anion wi(( suggest that the com'anion ta%e first
turn, so that the chi(d might en8oy his or her turn (ater. )t
age si/ chi(dren may start eating their ca%e first and the
frosting (ast. Throughout grammar schoo( this ear(y ca'acity
to de(ay gratification is dai(y e/ercised, 'articu(ar(y through
the 'erformance of homewor%. 9y the age of twe(ve some
chi(dren are a(ready ab(e to sit down on occasion without
any 'arenta( 'rom'ting and com'(ete their homewor%
before they watch te(evision. 9y the age of fifteen or si/teen
such behavior is e/'ected of the ado(escent and is
considered norma(.
It becomes c(ear to their educators at this age, however,
that a substantia( number of ado(escents fa(( far short of this
norm. <hi(e many have a we((.deve(o'ed ca'acity to de(ay
gratification, some fifteen. or si/teen.year.o(ds seem to have
hard(y deve(o'ed this ca'acity at a((: indeed, some seem
even to (ac% the ca'acity entire(y. These are the 'rob(em
students. Des'ite average or better inte((igence, their grades
are 'oor sim'(y because they do not wor%. They s%i' c(asses
or s%i' schoo( entire(y on the whim of the moment. They are
im'u(sive, and their im'u(siveness s'i((s over into their socia(
(ife as we((. They get into fre>uent fights, they become
invo(ved with drugs, they begin to get in troub(e with the
'o(ice. $(ay now, 'ay (ater, is their motto. #o the
'sycho(ogists and 'sychothera'ists are ca((ed in. 9ut most of
the time it seems too (ate. These ado(escents are resentfu( of
any attem't to intervene in their (ife sty(e of im'u(siveness,
and even when this resentment can be overcome by warmth
and friend(iness and a non8udgmenta( attitude on the 'art of
the thera'ist, their im'u(siveness is often so severe that it
'rec(udes their 'artici'ation in the 'rocess of 'sychothera'y
in any meaningfu( way. They miss their a''ointments. They
avoid a(( im'ortant and 'ainfu( issues. #o usua((y the attem't
at intervention fai(s, and these chi(dren dro' out of schoo(,
on(y to continue
a 'attern of fai(ure that fre>uent(y (ands them in disastrous
marriages, in accidents, in 'sychiatric hos'ita(s or in 8ai(.
<hy is this& <hy do a ma8ority deve(o' a ca'acity to
de(ay
gratification whi(e a substantia( minority fai(, often
irretrievab(y.
, to deve(o' this ca'acity. The answer is not abso(ute(y,
scientifica((y %nown. The ro(e of genetic factors is unc(ear.
The variab(es cannot be sufficient(y contro((ed for scientific
'roof. 9ut most of the signs rather c(ear(y 'oint to the
>ua(ity
of 'arenting as the determinant.
;< DI#CI$?IN6
The +ins o" the ,ather
It is not that the homes of these unse(f.disci'(ined chi(dren
are (ac%ing in 'arenta( disci'(ine of a sort. !ore often than
not these chi(dren are 'unished fre>uent(y and severe(y
throughout their chi(dhood.s(a''ed, 'unched, %ic%ed, beaten
and whi''ed by their 'arents for even minor infractions. 9ut
this disci'(ine is meaning(ess. 9ecause it is undisci'(ined
disci'(ine.
One reason that it is meaning(ess is that the 'arents them.
se(ves are unse(f.disci'(ined, and therefore serve as undisci.
'(ined ro(e mode(s for their chi(dren. They are the Do as I
say, not as I do 'arents. They may fre>uent(y get drun% in
front of their chi(dren. They may fight with each other in front
of the chi(dren without restraint, dignity or rationa(ity. They
may be s(oven(y. They ma%e 'romises they don"t %ee'. Their
own (ives are fre>uent(y and obvious(y in disorder and
disarray, and their attem'ts to order the (ives of their chi(dren
seem therefore to ma%e (itt(e sense to these chi(dren. If
father beats u' mother regu(ar(y, what sense does it ma%e to
a boy when his mother beats him u' because he beat u' his
sister& Does it ma%e sense when he"s to(d that he must (earn
to contro( his tem'er& #ince we do not have the benefit of
com'arison when we are young, our 'arents are god(i%e
figures to our chi(dish eyes. <hen 'arents do things a certain
way, it seems to the young chi(d the way to do them, the way
they shou(d be done. If a chi(d sees his 'arents day in and
day out behaving with se(f.disci'(ine, restraint, dignity and a
ca'acity to order their own (ives, then the chi(d wi(( come to
fee( in the dee'est fibers of his being that this is the way to
(ive. If a
The +ins o" the ,ather 21
chi(d sees his 'arents day in and day out (iving without
se(f.restraint or se(f.disci'(ine, then he wi(( come in the
dee'est fibers of being to be(ieve that that is the way to
(ive.
7et even more im'ortant than ro(e mode(ing is (ove. ;or
even in chaotic and disordered homes genuine (ove is
occasiona((y 'resent, and from such homes may come se(f.
disci'(ined chi(dren. )nd not infre>uent(y 'arents who are
'rofessiona( 'eo'(e.doctors, (awyers, c(ub women and
'hi(anthro'ists.who (ead (ives of strict order(iness and
deco.rum but yet (ac% (ove, send chi(dren into the wor(d
who are as undisci'(ined and destructive and disorganiFed
as any chi(d from an im'overished and chaotic home.
U(timate(y (ove is everything. The mystery of (ove wi(( be
e/amined in (ater 'ortions of this wor%. 7et, for the sa%e of
coherency, it may be he('fu( to ma%e a brief but (imited
mention of it and its re(ationshi' to disci'(ine at this 'oint.
<hen we (ove something it is of va(ue to us, and when
something is of va(ue to us we s'end time with it, time
en8oying it and time ta%ing care of it. Observe a teenager in
(ove with his car and note the time he wi(( s'end admiring
it, 'o(ishing it, re'airing it, tuning it. Or an o(der 'erson
with a be(oved rose garden, and the time s'ent 'runing and
mu(ching and ferti(iFing and studying it. #o it is when we
(ove chi(dren: we s'end time admiring them and caring for
them.
<e give them our time.
=ood disci'(ine re>uires time. <hen we have no time to
give our chi(dren, or no time that we are wi((ing to give, we
don"t even observe them c(ose(y enough to become aware of
when their need for our disci'(inary assistance is e/'ressed
subt(y. If their need for disci'(ine is so gross as to im'inge
u'on our consciousness, we may sti(( ignore the need on the
grounds that it"s easier to (et them have their own way. I
8ust don"t have the energy to dea( with them today. Or,
fina((y, if we are im'e((ed into action by their misdeeds and
our irritation, we wi(( im'ose disci'(ine, often bruta((y, out of
anger rather than de(iberation, without e/amining the
;; DI#CI$?IN6
'rob(em or even ta%ing the time to consider which form of
disci'(ine is the most a''ro'riate to that 'articu(ar
'rob(em.
The 'arents who devote time to their chi(dren even
when it is not demanded by g(aring misdeeds wi((
'erceive in them subt(e needs for disci'(ine, to which they
wi(( res'ond with gent(e urging or re'rimand or structure
or 'raise, administered with thoughtfu(ness and care.
They wi(( observe how their chi(dren eat ca%e, how they
study, when they te(( subt(e fa(sehoods, when they run
away from 'rob(ems rather than face them. They wi(( ta%e
the time to ma%e these minor corrections and
ad8ustments, (istening to their chi(dren, res'onding to
them, tightening a (itt(e here, (oosening a (itt(e there,
giving them (itt(e (ectures, (itt(e stories, (itt(e hugs and
%isses, (itt(e admonishments, (itt(e 'ats on the bac%.
#o it is that the >ua(ity of disci'(ine afforded by (oving
'arents is su'erior to the disci'(ine of un(oving 'arents.
9ut this is 8ust the beginning. In ta%ing the time to observe
and to thin% about their chi(dren"s needs, (oving 'arents
wi(( fre>uent(y agoniFe over the decisions to be made, and
wi((, in a very rea( sense, suffer a(ong with their chi(dren.
The chi(dren are not b(ind to this. They 'erceive it when
their 'arents are wi((ing to suffer with them, and a(though
they may not res'ond with immediate gratitude, they wi((
(earn a(so to suffer. If
"
my 'arents are wi((ing to suffer
with me, they wi(( te(( themse(ves, then suffering must
not be so bad, and I shou(d be wi((ing to suffer with
myse(f.

This is the beginning of se(f.disci'(ine.

The time and the >ua(ity of the time that their 'arents
devote to them indicate to chi(dren the degree to which
they are va(ued by their 'arents. #ome basica((y un(oving
'arents, in an attem't to cover u' their (ac% of caring,
ma%e fre>uent 'rofessions of (ove to their chi(dren,
re'etitive(y and mechanica((y te((ing them how much they
are va(ued, but not devoting significant time of high
>ua(ity to them. Their chi(dren are never tota((y deceived
by such ho((ow words. Conscious(y they may c(ing to
them, wanting to be(ieve that they are
The +ins o" the ,ather 2#
(oved, but unconscious(y they %now that their 'arents"
words do not match u' with their deeds.
On the other hand, chi(dren who are tru(y (oved,
a(though in moments of 'i>ue they may conscious(y
fee( or 'roc(aim that they are being neg(ected,
unconscious(y %now themse(ves to be va(ued. This
%now(edge is worth more than any go(d. ;or when
chi(dren %now that they are va(ued, when they tru(y
fee( va(ued in the dee'est 'arts of themse(ves, then
they fee( va(uab(e.
The fee(ing of being va(uab(e.I am a va(uab(e
'erson.is essentia( to menta( hea(th and is a
cornerstone of se(f.disci'(ine. It is a direct 'roduct of
'arenta( (ove. #uch a conviction must be gained in
chi(dhood: it is e/treme(y difficu(t to ac>uire it during
adu(thood. Converse(y, when chi(dren have (earned
through the (ove of their 'arents to fee( va(uab(e, it is
a(most im'ossib(e for the vicissitudes of adu(t.hood to
destroy their s'irit.
This fee(ing of being va(uab(e is a cornerstone of se(f.
disci'(ine because when one considers onese(f
va(uab(e one wi(( ta%e care of onese(f in a(( ways that
are necessary. #e(f.disci'(ine is se(f.caring. ;or
instance.since we are discussing the 'rocess of
de(aying gratification, of schedu(ing and ordering t i me.
( et us e/amine the matter of time. If we fee( ourse(ves
va(uab(e, then we wi(( fee( our time to be va(uab(e, and
if we fee( our time to be va(uab(e, then we wi(( want to
use it we((. The financia( ana(yst who 'rocrastinated
did not va(ue her time. If she had, she wou(d not have
a((owed herse(f to s'end most of her day so unha''i(y
and un'roductive(y. It was not without conse>uence
for her that throughout her chi(dhood she was farmed
out during a(( schoo( vacations to (ive with 'aid foster
'arents a(though her 'arents cou(d have ta%en care of
her 'erfect(y we(( had they wanted to. They did not
va(ue her. They did not want to care for her. #o she
grew u' fee(ing herse(f to be of (itt(e va(ue, not worth
caring for: therefore she did not care for herse(f. #he
did not fee( she was worth disci'(ining herse(f. Des'ite
the fact that she was an inte((igent and com'etent
;= DI#CI$?IN6
woman she re>uired the most e(ementary in.
The +ins o" the ,ather 25
struction in se(f.disci'(ine because she (ac%ed a rea(istic
assessment of her own worth and the va(ue of her own
time. Once she was ab(e to 'erceive her time as being
va(uab(e, it natura((y fo((owed that she wanted to
organiFe it and 'rotect it and ma%e ma/imum use of it.
)s a resu(t of the e/'erience of consistent 'arenta(
(ove and caring throughout chi(dhood, such fortunate
chi(dren wi(( enter adu(thood not on(y with a dee'
interna( sense of their own va(ue but a(so with a dee'
interna( sense of security. )(( chi(dren are terrified of
abandonment, and with good reason. This fear of
abandonment begins around the age of si/ months, as
soon as the chi(d is ab(e to 'erceive itse(f to be an
individua(, se'arate from its 'arents. ;or with this
'erce'tion of itse(f as an individua( comes the
rea(iFation that as an individua( it is >uite he('(ess,
tota((y de'endent and tota((y at the mercy of its 'arents
for a(( forms of sustenance and means of surviva(. To
the chi(d, abandonment by its 'arents is the e>uiva(ent
of death. !ost 'arents, even when they are other.wise
re(ative(y ignorant or ca((ous, are instinctive(y sensitive
to their chi(dren"s fear of abandonment and wi((
therefore, day in and day out, hundreds and thousands
of times, offer their chi(dren needed reassurance0 7ou
%now !ommy and Daddy aren"t going to (eave you
behind: Of course !ommy and Daddy wi(( come bac%
to get you: !ommy and Daddy aren"t going to forget
about you. If these words are matched by deeds,
month in and month out, year in and year out, by the
time of ado(escence the chi(d wi(( have (ost the fear of
abandonment and in its stead wi(( have a dee' inner
fee(ing that the wor(d is a safe '(ace in which to be and
'rotection wi(( be there when it is needed. <ith this
interna( sense of the consistent safety of the wor(d,
such a chi(d is free to de(ay gratification of one %ind or
another, secure in the %now(edge that the o''ortunity
for gratification, (i%e home and 'arents, is a(ways there,
avai(ab(e when needed.
9ut many are not so fortunate. ) substantia( number
of chi(dren actua((y are abandoned by their 'arents
during chi(d.hood, by death, by desertion, by sheer
neg(igence, or, as in
;> DI#CI$?IN6
the case of the financia( ana(yst, by a sim'(e (ac% of caring.
Others, whi(e not abandoned in fact, fai( to receive from
their 'arents the reassurance that they wi(( not be
abandoned. There are some 'arents, for instance, who in
their desire to enforce disci'(ine as easi(y and >uic%(y as
'ossib(e, wi(( actua((y use the threat of abandonment,
overt(y or subt(y, to achieve this end. The message they
give to their chi(dren is0 If you don"t do e/act(y what I want
you to do I won"t (ove you any more, and you can figure out
for yourse(f what that might mean. It means, of course,
abandonment and death. These 'arents sacrifice (ove in
their need for contro( and domination over their chi(dren,
and their reward is chi(dren who are e/cessive(y fearfu( of
the future. #o it is that these chi(dren, abandoned either
'sycho(ogica((y or in actua(ity, enter adu(thood (ac%ing any
dee' sense that the wor(d is a safe and 'rotective '(ace. To
the contrary, they 'erceive the wor(d as dangerous and
frightening, and they are not about to forsa%e any
gratification or security in the 'resent for the 'romise of
greater gratification or security in the future, since for them
the future seems dubious indeed.
In summary, for chi(dren to deve(o' the ca'acity to de(ay
gratification, it is necessary for them to have se(f.disci'(ined
ro(e mode(s, a sense of se(f.worth, and a degree of trust in
the safety of their e/istence. These 'ossessions are idea((y
ac>uired through the se(f.disci'(ine and consistent, genuine
caring of their 'arents: they are the most 'recious gifts of
themse(ves that mothers and fathers can be>ueath. <hen
these gifts have not been 'roffered by one"s 'arents, it is
'ossib(e to ac>uire them from other sources, but in that
case the 'rocess of their ac>uisition is invariab(y an u'hi((
strugg(e, often of (ife(ong duration and often unsuccessfu(.
;: DI#CI$?IN6
Pro$le%-+olving and Ti%e
Having touched u'on some of the ways in which
'arenta( (ove or its (ac% may inf(uence the deve(o'ment of
se(f.disci'(ine in genera(, and the ca'acity to de(ay
gratification in 'articu(ar, (et us e/amine some of the
more subt(e yet >uite devastating ways in which
difficu(ties in de(aying gratification affect the (ives of most
adu(ts. ;or whi(e most of us, fortunate(y, deve(o'
sufficient ca'acity to de(ay gratification to ma%e it
through high schoo( or co((ege and embar% u'on
adu(thood without (anding in 8ai(, our deve(o'ment
nonethe(ess tends to be im'erfect and incom'(ete, with
the resu(t that our abi(ity to so(ve (ife"s 'rob(ems is sti((
im'erfect and incom'(ete.
)t the age of thirty.seven I (earned how to fi/ things.
$rior to that time a(most a(( my attem'ts to ma%e minor
'(umbing re'airs, mend toys or assemb(e bo/ed furniture
according to the accom'anying hierog(y'hica( instruction
sheet ended in confusion, fai(ure and frustration. Des'ite
having managed to ma%e it through medica( schoo( and
su''ort a fami(y as a more or (ess successfu( e/ecutive
and 'sychiatrist, I considered my.se(f to be a mechanica(
idiot. I was convinced I was deficient in some gene, or by
curse of nature (ac%ing some mystica( >ua(ity res'onsib(e
for mechanica( abi(ity. Then one day at the end of my
thirty.seventh year, whi(e ta%ing a s'ring #un.day wa(%, I
ha''ened u'on a neighbor in the 'rocess of re.'airing a
(awn mower. )fter greeting him I remar%ed, 9oy, I sure
admire you. I"ve never been ab(e to fi/ those %ind of
things or do anything (i%e that. !y neighbor, without a
moment"s hesitation, shot bac%, That"s because you
don"t
;? DI#CI$?IN6
ta%e the time. I resumed my wa(%, somehow dis>uieted
by the guru(i%e sim'(icity, s'ontaneity and
definitiveness of his res'onse. 7ou don"t su''ose he
cou(d be right, do you& I as%ed myse(f. #omehow it
registered, and the ne/t time the o''ortunity 'resented
itse(f to ma%e a minor re'air I was ab(e to remind
myse(f to ta%e my time. The 'ar%ing bra%e was stuc% on
a 'atient"s car, and she %new that there was some.thing
one cou(d do under the dashboard to re(ease it, but she
didn"t %now what. I (ay down on the f(oor be(ow the
front seat of her car. Then I too% the time to ma%e
myse(f comfort.ab(e. Once I was comfortab(e, I then
too% the time to (oo% at the situation. I (oo%ed for
severa( minutes. )t first a(( I saw was a confusing
8umb(e of wires and tubes and rods, whose meaning I
did not %now. 9ut gradua((y, in no hurry, I was ab(e to
focus my sight on the bra%e a''aratus and trace its
course. )nd then it became c(ear to me that there was a
(itt(e (atch 'reventing the bra%e from being re(eased. I
s(ow(y studied this (atch unti( it became c(ear to me that
if I were to 'ush it u'ward with the ti' of my finger it
wou(d move easi(y and wou(d re(ease the bra%e. )nd so I
did this. One sing(e motion, one ounce of 'ressure from
a fingerti', and the 'rob(em was so(ved. I was a master
mechanic1
)ctua((y, I don"t begin to have the %now(edge or the
time to gain that %now(edge to be ab(e to fi/ most
mechanica( fai(ures, given the fact that I choose to
concentrate my time on nonmechanica( matters. #o I
sti(( usua((y go running to the nearest re'airman. 9ut I
now %now that this is a choice I ma%e, and I am not
cursed or genetica((y defective or other.wise
inca'acitated or im'otent. )nd I %now that I and anyone
e(se who is not menta((y defective can so(ve any
'rob(em if we are wi((ing to ta%e the time.
The issue is im'ortant, because many 'eo'(e sim'(y
do not ta%e the time necessary to so(ve many of (ife"s
inte((ectua(, socia( or s'iritua( 'rob(ems, 8ust as I did not
ta%e the time to so(ve mechanica( 'rob(ems. 9efore my
mechanica( en(ightenment I wou(d have aw%ward(y stuc%
my head under the dash.board of my 'atient"s car,
Probl em-Sol vi ng and Ti me 29
immediate(y yan%ed at a few wires
@< DI#CI$?IN6
without having the foggiest idea of what I was doing, and
then, when nothing constructive resu(ted, wou(d have thrown
u' my hands and 'roc(aimed It"s beyond me. )nd this is
'recise(y the way that so many of us a''roach other di(emmas
of day.to.day (iving. The aforementioned financia( ana(yst was
a basica((y (oving and dedicated but rather he('(ess mother to
her two young chi(dren. #he was a(ert and concerned enough
to 'erceive when her chi(dren were having some sort of
emotiona( 'rob(em or when something was not wor%ing out in
her chi(d.raising. 9ut then she inevitab(y too% one of two
courses of action with the chi(dren0 either she made the very
first change that came to her mind within a matter of
seconds.ma%ing them eat more brea%fast or sending them to
bed ear(ier.regard(ess of whether such a change had any.
thing to do with the 'rob(em, or e(se she came to her ne/t
thera'y session with me 4the re'airman5, des'airing0 It"s be.
yond me. <hat sha(( I do& This woman had a 'erfect(y %een
and ana(ytica( mind, and when she didn"t 'rocrastinate, she
was >uite ca'ab(e of so(ving com'(e/ 'rob(ems at wor%. 7et
when confronted with a 'ersona( 'rob(em, she behaved as if
she were tota((y (ac%ing in inte((igence. The issue was one of
time. Once she became aware of a 'ersona( 'rob(em, she fe(t
so discomfited that she demanded an immediate so(ution, and
she was not wi((ing to to(erate her discomfort (ong enough to
ana(yFe the 'rob(em. The so(ution to the 'rob(em re'resented
gratification to her, but she was unab(e to de(ay this gratifica.
tion for more than a minute or two, with the resu(t that her
so(utions were usua((y ina''ro'riate and her fami(y in chronic
turmoi(. ;ortunate(y, through her own 'erseverance in thera'y
she was gradua((y ab(e to (earn how to disci'(ine herse(f to
ta%e the time necessary to ana(yFe fami(y 'rob(ems so as to
deve(o' we((.thought.out and effective so(utions.
<e are not ta(%ing here about esoteric defects in 'rob(em.
so(ving associated on(y with 'eo'(e who c(ear(y manifest 'sy.
chiatric disturbances. The financia( ana(yst is everyman. <ho
among us can say that they unfai(ing(y devote sufficient time
to ana(yFing their chi(dren"s 'rob(ems or tensions within the
Probl em-Sol vi ng and Ti me !
fami(y& <ho among us is so se(f.disci'(ined that he or she
never says resigned(y in the face of fami(y 'rob(ems, It"s
beyond me&
)ctua((y, there is a defect in the a''roach to 'rob(em.
so(ving more 'rimitive and more destructive than
im'atient(y in.ade>uate attem'ts to find instant so(utions, a
defect even more ubi>uitous and universa(. It is the ho'e
that 'rob(ems wi(( go away of their own accord. ) thirty.
year.o(d sing(e sa(esman in grou' thera'y in a sma(( town
began to date the recent(y se'arated wife of another grou'
member, a ban%er. The sa(es.man %new the ban%er to be a
chronica((y angry man who was dee'(y resentfu( of his wife"s
(eaving him. He %new that he was not being honest either
with the grou' or with the ban%er by not confiding his
re(ationshi' with the ban%er"s wife. He a(so %new that it was
a(most inevitab(e that sooner or (ater the ban%er wou(d (earn
about the continuing re(ationshi'. He %new that the on(y
so(ution to the 'rob(em wou(d be to confess the re(ationshi'
to the grou' and bear the ban%er"s anger with the grou'
"
s
su''ort. 9ut he did nothing. )fter three months the ban%er
found out about the friendshi', was 'redictab(y enraged,
and used the incident to >uit his thera'y. <hen confronted
by the grou' with his destructive behavior the sa(esman
said0 I %new that ta(%ing about it wou(d be a hass(e, and I
guess I fe(t that if I did nothing, maybe I cou(d get away with
it without the hass(e. I guess I thought that if I waited (ong
enough the 'rob(em might go away.
$rob(ems do not go away. They must be wor%ed through
or e(se they remain, forever a barrier to the growth and
deve(o'ment of the s'irit.
The grou' made the sa(esman aware in no uncertain
terms that his tendency to avoid 'rob(em.so(ving by
ignoring a 'rob(em in the ho'e that it wou(d go away was in
itse(f his ma8or 'rob(em. ;our months (ater, in the ear(y
autumn, the sa(esman fu(fi((ed a fantasy by rather sudden(y
>uitting his sa(es 8ob and starting his own furniture.re'air
business, which wou(d not re>uire him to trave(. The grou'
de'(ored the fact that he was 'utting a(( his eggs in one
bas%et and a(so >ues
@; DI#CI$?IN6
tioned the wisdom of ma%ing the move with winter coming
on, but the sa(esman assured them he wou(d ma%e enough
to get by in his new business. The sub8ect was dro''ed.
Then in ear(y ;ebruary he announced that he wou(d have to
>uit the grou' because he cou(d no (onger 'ay the fee. He
was dead bro%e and wou(d have to start (oo%ing for another
8ob. In five months he had re'aired a tota( of eight 'ieces of
furniture. <hen as%ed why he hadn"t started (oo%ing for a
8ob sooner, he re'(ied0 I %new si/ wee%s ago that I was
running through my money fast, but somehow I cou(dn"t
be(ieve that it wou(d come to this 'oint. The who(e thing 8ust
didn"t seem very urgent, but, boy, it"s urgent now. He had,
of course, ignored his 'rob(em. #(ow(y it began to dawn on
him that unti( he so(ved his 'rob(em of ignoring 'rob(ems he
wou(d never get beyond ste' one.even with a(( the
'sychothera'y in the wor(d.
This inc(ination to ignore 'rob(ems is once again a sim'(e
manifestation of an unwi((ingness to de(ay gratification. Con.
fronting 'rob(ems is, as I have said, 'ainfu(. To wi((ing(y
confront a 'rob(em ear(y, before we are forced to confront it
by circumstances, means to 'ut aside something '(easant
or (ess 'ainfu( for something more 'ainfu(. It is choosing to
suffer now in the ho'e of future gratification rather than
choosing to continue 'resent gratification in the ho'e that
future suffering wi(( not be necessary.
It may seem that the sa(esman who ignored such obvious
'rob(ems was emotiona((y immature or 'sycho(ogica((y
'rimitive, but, again, I te(( you he is everyman and his
immaturity and 'rimitiveness e/ist in us a((. ) great genera(,
commander of an army, once to(d me, The sing(e greatest
'rob(em in this army, or I guess in any organiFation, is that
most of the e/ecutives wi(( sit (oo%ing at 'rob(ems in their
units, staring them right in the face, doing nothing, as if
these 'rob(ems wi(( go away if they sit there (ong enough.
The genera( wasn"t ta(%ing about the menta((y wea% or
abnorma(. He was ta(%ing about other genera(s and senior
co(one(s, mature men of 'roven ca'abi(ity and trained in
disci'(ine.
Probl em-Sol vi ng and Ti me
$arents are e/ecutives, and des'ite the fact that they are
usua((y i((.'re'ared for it, their tas% can be every bit as com.
'(e/ as directing a com'any or cor'oration. )nd (i%e the
army e/ecutives, most 'arents wi(( 'erceive 'rob(ems in
their chi(dren or in their re(ationshi' with their chi(dren for
months or years before they ta%e any effective action, if
they ever do. <e thought maybe he wou(d grow out of it,
the 'arents say as they come to the chi(d 'sychiatrist with a
'rob(em of five years" duration. )nd with res'ect for the
com'(e/ity of 'arenting, it must be said that 'arenta(
decisions are difficu(t, and that chi(dren often do grow out of
it. 9ut it a(most never hurts to try to he(' them grow out of it
or to (oo% more c(ose(y at the 'rob(em. )nd whi(e chi(dren
often grow out of it, often they do not: and as with so
many 'rob(ems, the (onger chi(dren"s 'rob(ems are ignored,
the (arger they become and the more 'ainfu( and difficu(t to
so(ve.
Res.onsi$ility
<e cannot so(ve (ife"s 'rob(ems e/ce't by so(ving them.
This statement may seem idiotica((y tauto(ogica( or se(f.evi.
dent, yet it is seeming(y beyond the com'rehension of much
of the human race. This is because we must acce't
res'onsibi(ity for a 'rob(em before we can so(ve it. <e
cannot so(ve a 'rob(em by saying It"s not my 'rob(em. <e
cannot so(ve a 'rob(em by ho'ing that someone e(se wi((
so(ve it for us. I can so(ve a 'rob(em on(y when I say This is
%y 'rob(em and it"s u' to me to so(ve it. 9ut many, so
many, see% to avoid the 'ain of their 'rob(ems by saying to
themse(ves0 This 'rob(em was caused me by other 'eo'(e,
or by socia( circumstances beyond my contro(, and therefore
@= DI#CI$?IN6
it is u' to other
Res.onsi$ility A A
'eo'(e or society to so(ve this 'rob(em for me. It is not
rea((y my 'ersona( 'rob(em.
The e/tent to which 'eo'(e wi(( go 'sycho(ogica((y to
avoid assuming res'onsibi(ity for 'ersona( 'rob(ems, whi(e
a(ways sad, is sometimes a(most (udicrous. ) career
sergeant in the army, stationed in O%inawa and in serious
troub(e because of his e/cessive drin%ing, was referred for
'sychiatric eva(uation and, if 'ossib(e, assistance. He denied
that he was an a(coho(ic, or even that his use of a(coho( was
a 'ersona( 'rob(em, saying, There"s nothing e(se to do in
the evenings in O%inawa e/ce't drin%.
Do you (i%e to read& I as%ed.
Oh yes, I (i%e to read, sure.
Then why don"t you read in the evening instead of drin%.
ing&
It"s too noisy to read in the barrac%s.
<e((, then, why don"t you go to the (ibrary&
The (ibrary is too far away.
Is the (ibrary farther away than the bar you go to& <e((,
I"m not much of a reader. That"s not where my interests
(ie.
Do you (i%e to fish& I then in>uired.
#ure, I (ove to fish.
<hy not go fishing instead of drin%ing&
9ecause I have to wor% a(( day (ong.
Can"t you go fishing at night&
No, there isn"t any night fishing in O%inawa.
9ut there is, I said. I %now severa( organiFations that
fish at night here. <ou(d you (i%e me to 'ut you in touch
with them&

<e((, I rea((y don"t (i%e to fish.

<hat I hear you saying, I c(arified, is that there are other
things to do in O%inawa e/ce't drin%, but the thing you (i%e
to do most in O%inawa is drin%.
7eah, I guess so.
9ut your drin%ing is getting you in troub(e, so you"re faced
with a rea( 'rob(em, aren"t you&
@> DI#CI$?IN6
This damn is(and wou(d drive anyone to drin%.
I %e't trying for a whi(e, but the sergeant was not the (east
bit interested in seeing his drin%ing as a 'ersona( 'rob(em
which he cou(d so(ve either with or without he(', and I re.
gretfu((y to(d his commander that he was not amenab(e to
assistance. His drin%ing continued, and he was se'arated
from the service in mid.career.
) young wife, a(so in O%inawa, cut her wrist (ight(y with a
raFor b(ade and was brought to the emergency room, where I
saw her. I as%ed her why she had done this to herse(f.
To %i(( myse(f, of course.
<hy do you want to %i(( yourse(f&
9ecause I can"t stand it on this dumb is(and. 7ou have to
send me bac% to the #tates. I"m going to %i(( myse(f if I have
to stay here any (onger.
<hat is it about (iving in O%inawa that"s so 'ainfu( for
you& I as%ed.
#he began to cry in a whining sort of way. I don"t have
any friends here, and I"m a(one a(( the time.
That"s too bad. How come you haven"t been ab(e to ma%e
any friends&
9ecause I have to (ive in a stu'id O%inawan housing area,
and none of my neighbors s'ea% 6ng(ish.
<hy don"t you drive over to the )merican housing area or
to the wives" c(ub during the day so you can ma%e some
friends&
9ecause my husband has to drive the car to wor%.
Can"t you drive him to wor%, since you"re a(one and bored
a(( day& I as%ed.
No. It"s a stic%.shift car, and I don"t %now how to drive a
stic%.shift car, on(y an automatic.
<hy don"t you (earn how to drive a stic%.shift car& #he
g(ared at me. On these roads& 7ou must be craFy.
@: DI#CI$?IN6
/euroses and !haracter *isorders
!ost 'eo'(e who come to see a 'sychiatrist are suffering
from what is ca((ed either a neurosis or a character disorder.
$ut most sim'(y, these two conditions are disorders of re.
s'onsibi(ity, and as such they are o''osite sty(es of re(ating
to the wor(d and its 'rob(ems. The neurotic assumes too
much res'onsibi(ity: the 'erson with a character disorder not
enough. <hen neurotics are in conf(ict with the wor(d they
automatica((y assume that they are at fau(t. <hen those with
character disorders are in conf(ict with the wor(d they auto.
matica((y assume that the wor(d is at fau(t. The two individ.
ua(s 8ust described had character disorders0 the sergeant fe(t
that his drin%ing was O%inawa"s fau(t, not his, and the wife
a(so saw herse(f as '(aying no ro(e whatsoever in her own
iso(ation. ) neurotic woman, on the other hand, a(so suffering
from (one(iness and iso(ation on O%inawa, com'(ained0 I
drive over to the Non.Commissioned Officers" <ives C(ub
every day to (oo% for friendshi', but I don"t fee( at ease
there. I thin% that the other wives don"t (i%e me. #omething
must be wrong with me. I shou(d be ab(e to ma%e friends
more easi(y. I ought to be more outgoing. I want to find out
what it is about me that ma%es me so un'o'u(ar. This
woman assumed tota( res'onsibi(ity for her (one(iness,
fee(ing she was entire(y to b(ame. <hat she found out in the
course of thera'y was that she was an unusua((y inte((igent
and ambitious 'erson and that she was i(( at ease with the
other sergeants" wives, as we(( as with her husband, because
she was considerab(y more inte((igent and ambitious than
they. #he became ab(e to see that her (one(iness, whi(e her
'rob(em, was not necessari(y
@? DI#CI$?IN6
due to a fau(t or defect of her own. U(timate(y she was
divorced, 'ut herse(f through co((ege whi(e raising her
chi(dren, became a magaFine editor, and married a
successfu( 'ub(isher.
6ven the s'eech 'atterns of neurotics and those with
character disorders are different. The s'eech of the
neurotic is notab(e for such e/'ressions as I ought to,
I shou(d, and I shou(dn"t, indicating the individua("s
se(f.image as an inferior man or woman, a(ways fa((ing
short of the mar%, a(ways ma%ing the wrong choices.
The s'eech of a 'erson with a character disorder,
however, re(ies heavi(y on I can"t, I cou(dn"t, I have
to, and I had to, demonstrating a se(f.image of a
being who has no 'ower of choice, whose behavior is
com'(ete(y directed by e/terna( forces tota((y beyond his
or her contro(. )s might be imagined, neurotics,
com'ared with character.disordered 'eo'(e, are easy to
wor% with in 'sycho.thera'y because they assume
res'onsibi(ity for their difficu(ties and therefore see
themse(ves as having 'rob(ems. Those with character
disorders are much more difficu(t, if not im'ossib(e, to
wor% with because they don"t see themse(ves as the
source of their 'rob(ems: they see the wor(d rather than
themse(ves as being in need of change and therefore
fai( to recogniFe the necessity for se(f.e/amination. In
actua(ity, many individua(s have both a neurosis and a
character disorder and are referred to as character
neurotics, indicating that in some areas of their (ives
they are gui(t.ridden by virtue of having assumed
res'onsibi(ity that is not rea((y theirs, whi(e in other
areas of their (ives they fai( to ta%e rea(istic
res'onsibi(ity for themse(ves. ;ortunate(y, once having
estab(ished the faith and trust of such individua(s in the
'sycho.thera'y 'rocess through he('ing them with the
neurotic 'art of their 'ersona(ities, it is often 'ossib(e
then to engage them in e/amining and correcting their
unwi((ingness to assume res'onsibi(ity where
a''ro'riate.
;ew of us can esca'e being neurotic or character
disordered to at (east some degree 4which is why
essentia((y everyone can benefit from 'sychothera'y if
/euroses and !haracter *isorders
he or she is serious(y wi((ing to 'artici'ate in the
'rocess5. The reason for this is that the
=< DI#CI$?IN6
'rob(em of distinguishing what we are and what we are
not res'onsib(e for in this (ife is one of the greatest
'rob(ems of human e/istence. It is never com'(ete(y
so(ved: for the entirety of our (ives we must continua((y
assess and reassess where our res'onsibi(ities (ie in the
ever.changing course of events. Nor is this assessment
and reassessment 'ain(ess if 'erformed ade>uate(y and
conscientious(y. To 'erform either 'rocess ade>uate(y
we must 'ossess the wi((ingness and the ca'acity to
suffer continua( se(f.e/amination. )nd such ca'acity or
wi((ingness is not inherent in any of us. In a sense a((
chi(dren have character disorders, in that their
instinctua( tendency is to deny their res'onsibi(ity for
many conf(icts in which they find themse(ves. Thus two
sib(ings fighting wi(( a(ways b(ame each other for
initiating the fight and each wi(( tota((y deny that he or
she may have been the cu('rit. #imi (ar(y, a(( chi(dren
have neuroses, in that they wi(( instinctua((y assume
res'onsibi(ity for certain de'rivations that they e/'e.
rience but do not yet understand. Thus the chi(d who is
not (oved by his 'arents wi(( a(ways assume himse(f or
herse(f to be un(ovab(e rather than see the 'arents as
deficient in their ca'acity to (ove. Or ear(y ado(escents
who are not yet successfu( at dating or at s'orts wi(( see
themse(ves as serious(y deficient human beings rather
than the (ate or even average but 'erfect(y ade>uate
b(oomers they usua((y are. It is on(y through a vast
amount of e/'erience and a (engthy and successfu(
maturation that we gain the ca'acity to see the wor(d
and our '(ace in it rea(istica((y, and thus are enab(ed to
rea(istica((y assess our res'onsibi(ity for ourse(ves and
the wor(d.
There is much that 'arents can do to assist their
chi(dren in this maturation 'rocess. O''ortunities
'resent themse(ves thousands of times whi(e chi(dren
are growing u' when 'arents can either confront them
with their tendency to avoid or esca'e res'onsibi(ity for
their own actions or can reassure them that certain
situations are not their fau(t. 9ut to seiFe these
o''ortunities, as I have said, re>uires of 'arents sensi .
tivity to their chi(dren"s needs and the wi((ingness to
ta%e the time and ma%e the often uncomfortab(e effort
/euroses and !haracter *isorders
to meet these
=; DI#CI$?IN6
needs. )nd this in turn re>uires (ove and the wi((ingness
to assume a''ro'riate res'onsibi(ity for the
enhancement of their chi(dren"s growth.
Converse(y, even above and beyond sim'(e
insensitivity or neg(ect, there is much that many
'arents do to hinder this maturation 'rocess. Neurotics,
because of their wi((ingness to assume res'onsibi(ity,
may be >uite e/ce((ent 'arents if their neuroses are
re(ative(y mi(d and they are not so overwhe(med by
unnecessary res'onsibi(ities that they have scant
energy (eft for the necessary res'onsibi(ities of
'arenthood. Character.disordered 'eo'(e, however,
ma%e disastrous 'arents, b(issfu((y unaware that they
often treat their chi(dren with vicious destructiveness. It
is said that neurotics ma%e them.se(ves miserab(e:
those with character disorders ma%e every.one e(se
miserab(e. Chief among the 'eo'(e character.
disordered 'arents ma%e miserab(e are their chi(dren.
)s in other areas of their (ives, they fai( to assume
ade>uate res'onsibi(ity for their 'arenting. They tend to
brush off their chi(dren in thousands of (itt(e ways
rather than 'rovide them with needed attention. <hen
their chi(dren are de(in>uent or are having difficu(ty in
schoo(, character.disordered 'arents wi(( automatica((y
(ay the b(ame on the schoo( system or on other chi(dren
who, they insist, are a bad inf(uence on their own
chi(dren. This attitude, of course, ignores the 'rob(em.
9e.cause they duc% res'onsibi(ity, character.disordered
'arents serve as ro(e mode(s of irres'onsibi(ity for their
chi(dren. ;ina((y, in their efforts to avoid res'onsibi(ity
for their own (ives, character.disordered 'arents wi((
often (ay this res'onsibi(ity u'on their chi(dren0 7ou
%ids are driving me nuts, or The on(y reason I stay
married to your father ImotherJ is because of you %ids,
or 7our mother"s a nervous wrec% because of you, or
I cou(d have gone to co((ege and been a success if it
weren"t for having to su''ort you. In such ways these
'arents in effect say to their chi(dren, 7ou are res'on.
sib(e for the >ua(ity of my marriage, my menta( hea(th
and my (ac% of success in (ife. #ince they (ac% the
ca'acity to see how ina''ro'riate this is, the chi(dren
=@ DI#CI$?IN6
wi(( often acce't this
== DI#CI$?IN6
res'onsibi(ity, and insofar as they do acce't it, they wi((
be.come neurotic. It is in such ways that character.
disordered 'arents a(most invariab(y 'roduce
character.disordered or neurotic chi(dren. It is the
'arents themse(ves who visit their sins u'on their
chi(dren.
It is not sim'(y in their ro(e as 'arents that character.
disordered individua(s are ineffective and destructive:
these same character traits usua((y e/tend to their
marriages, their friend.shi's and their business
dea( i ngs. to any area of their e/istence in which they
fai( to assume res'onsibi(ity for its >ua(ity. This is
inevitab(e since, as has been said, no 'rob(em can be
so(ved unti( an individua( assumes the res'onsibi(ity for
so(ving it. <hen character.disordered individua(s b(ame
someone e( se. a s'ouse, a chi(d, a friend, a 'arent, an
em'( oyer . or something e( se. bad inf(uences, the
schoo(s, the government, racism, se/ism, society, the
system.for their 'rob(ems, these 'rob(ems 'ersist.
Nothing has been accom'(ished. 9y casting away their
res'onsibi(ity they may fee( comfortab(e with
themse(ves, but they have ceased to so(ve the
'rob(ems of (iving, have ceased to grow s'iritua((y, and
have become dead weight for society. They have cast
their 'ain onto society. The saying of the si/ties
4attributed to 6(dridge C(eaver5 s'ea%s to a(( of us for a((
time0 If you are not 'art of the so(ution, then you are
'art of the 'rob(em.
Esca.e "ro% ,reedo%
<hen a 'sychiatrist ma%es the diagnosis of a
character disorder, it is because the 'attern of
avoidance of res'onsibi(ity is re(ative(y gross in the
diagnosed individua(. 7et a(most a(( of us from time to
time see% to avoi d. i n ways that can be
Esca.e "ro% ,reedo% 05
>uite subt(e.the 'ain of assuming res'onsibi(ity for our own
'rob(ems. ;or the cure of my own subt(e character disorder
at the age of thirty I am indebted to !ac 9adge(y. )t the time
!ac was the director of the out'atient 'sychiatric c(inic
where I was com'(eting my 'sychiatry residency training. In
this c(inic my fe((ow residents and I were assigned new 'a.
tients on rotation. $erha's because I was more dedicated to
my 'atients and my own education than most of my fe((ow
residents, I found myse(f wor%ing much (onger hours than
they. They ordinari(y saw 'atients on(y once a wee%. I often
saw my 'atients two or three times a wee%. )s a resu(t I wou(d
watch my fe((ow residents (eaving the c(inic at four.thirty
each afternoon for their homes, whi(e I was schedu(ed with
a''ointments u' to eight or nine o"c(oc% at night, and my
heart was fi((ed with resentment. )s I became more and more
resentfu( and more and more e/hausted I rea(iFed that some.
thing had to be done. #o I went to Dr. 9adge(y and e/'(ained
the situation to him. I wondered whether I might be e/.
em'ted from the rotation of acce'ting new 'atients for a few
wee%s so that I might have time to catch u'. Did he thin% that
was feasib(e& Or cou(d he thin% of some other so(ution to the
'rob(em& !ac (istened to me very intent(y and rece'tive(y,
not interru'ting once. <hen I was finished, after a moment"s
si(ence, he said to me very sym'athetica((y, <e((, I can see
that you do have a 'rob(em.
I beamed, fee(ing understood. Than% you, I said. <hat
do you thin% shou(d be done about it&
To this !ac re'(ied, I to(d you, #cott, you do have a
'rob(em.
This was hard(y the res'onse I e/'ected. 7es, I said,
s(ight(y annoyed, I %now I have a 'rob(em. That"s why I came
to see you. <hat do you thin% I ought to do about it&
!ac res'onded0 #cott, a''arent(y you haven"t (istened to
what I said. I have heard you, and I am agreeing with you.
7ou do have a 'rob(em.
=oddammit, I said, I %now I have a 'rob(em. I %new
=> DI#CI$?IN6
that when I came in here. The >uestion is, what am I going
to do about it&
#cott, !ac re'(ied, I want you to (isten. ?isten c(ose(y
and I wi(( say it again. I agree with you. 7ou do have a
'rob(em. #'ecifica((y, you have a 'rob(em with time. 1our
time. Not my time. It"s not my 'rob(em. It"s your 'rob(em
with your time. 7ou, #cott $ec%, have a 'rob(em with your
time. That"s a(( I"m going to say about it.
I turned and strode out of !ac"s office, furious. )nd I
stayed furious. I hated !ac 9adge(y. ;or three months I
hated him. I fe(t that he had a severe character disorder.
How e(se cou(d he be so ca((ous& Here I had gone to him
humb(y as%ing for 8ust a (itt(e bit of he(', a (itt(e bit of
advice, and the bastard wasn"t even wi((ing to assume
enough res'onsibi(ity even to try to he(' me, even to do his
8ob as director of the c(inic. If he wasn"t su''osed to he('
manage such 'rob(ems as director of the c(inic, what the
he(( was he su''osed to do&
9ut after three months I somehow came to see that !ac
was right, that it was I, not he, who had the character disor.
der. !y time as my res'onsibi(ity. It was u' to me and me
a(one to decide how I wanted to use and order my time. If I
wanted to invest my time more heavi(y than my fe((ow resi.
dents in my wor%, then that was my choice, and the conse.
>uences of that choice were my res'onsibi(ity. It might be
'ainfu( for me to watch my fe((ow residents (eave their offices
two or three hours before me, and it might be 'ainfu( to
(isten to my wife"s com'(aints that I was not devoting myse(f
sufficient(y to the fami(y, but these 'ains were the
conse>uence of a choice that I had made. If I did not want to
suffer them, then I was free to choose not to wor% so hard
and to structure my time different(y. !y wor%ing hard was
not a burden cast u'on me by hardhearted fate or a
hardhearted c(inic director: it was the way I had chosen to
(ive my (ife and order my 'riorities. )s it ha''ened, I chose
not to change my (ife sty(e. 9ut with my change in attitude,
my resentment of my fe((ow residents vanished. It sim'(y no
(onger made any sense to
Esca.e "ro% ,reedo% 07
resent them for having chosen a (ife sty(e different from
mine when I was com'(ete(y free to choose to be (i%e them
if I wanted to. To resent them was to resent my own choice
to be different from them, a choice that I was ha''y with.
The difficu(ty we have in acce'ting res'onsibi(ity for our
behavior (ies in the desire to avoid the 'ain of the conse.
>uences of that behavior. 9y re>uesting !ac 9adge(y to as.
sume res'onsibi(ity for the structure of my time I was
attem'ting to avoid the 'ain of wor%ing (ong hours, even
though wor%ing (ong hours was an inevitab(e conse>uence
of my choice to be dedicated to my 'atients and my
training. 7et in so doing I was a(so unwitting(y see%ing to
increase !ac"s authority over me. I was giving him my
'ower, my freedom. I was saying in effect, Ta%e charge of
me. 7ou be the boss1 <henever we see% to avoid the
res'onsibi(ity for our own behavior, we do so by attem'ting
to give that res'onsibi(ity to some other individua( or
organiFation or entity. 9ut this means we then give away
our 'ower to that entity, be it fate or society or the
government or the cor'oration or our boss. It is for this
reason that 6rich ;romm so a't(y tit(ed his study of NaFism
and authoritarianism Esca.e "ro% ,reedo%. In attem'ting
to avoid the 'ain of res'onsibi(ity, mi((ions and even bi((ions
dai(y attem't to esca'e from freedom.
I have a bri((iant but morose ac>uaintance who, when I
a((ow him to, wi(( s'ea% unceasing(y and e(o>uent(y of the
o''ressive forces in our society0 racism, se/ism, the
mi(itary.industria( estab(ishment, and the country 'o(ice
who 'ic% on him and his friends because of their (ong hair.
)gain and again I have tried to 'oint out to him that he is
not a chi(d. )s chi(dren, by virtue of our rea( and e/tensive
de'endency, our 'arents have rea( and e/tensive 'ower
over us. They are, in fact, (arge(y res'onsib(e for our we((.
being, and we are, in fact, (arge(y at their mercy. <hen
'arents are o''ressive, as so often they are, we as chi(dren
are (arge(y 'ower(ess to do anything about it: our choices are
(imited. 9ut as adu(ts, when we are 'hysica((y hea(thy, our
choices are a(most un(imited.
=? DI#CI$?IN6
That does not mean they are not 'ainfu(. ;re>uent(y our
choices (ie between the (esser of two evi(s, but it is sti((
within our 'ower to ma%e these choices. 7es, I agree
with my ac>uaintance, there are indeed o''ressive
forces at wor% within the wor(d. <e have, however, the
freedom to choose every ste' of the way the manner in
which we are going to res'ond to and dea( with these
forces. It is his choice to (ive in an area of the country
where the 'o(ice don"t (i%e (ong.haired ty'es and sti((
grow his hair (ong. He has the freedom to move to the
city, or to cut his hair, or even to wage a cam'aign for
the office of 'o(ice commissioner. 9ut des'ite his
bri((iance, he does not ac%now(edge these freedoms. He
chooses to (ament his (ac% of 'o(itica( 'ower instead of
acce'ting and e/u(ting in his immense 'ersona( 'ower.
He s'ea%s of his (ove of freedom and of the o''ressive
forces that thwart it, but every time he s'ea%s of how
he is victimiFed by these forces he actua((y is giving
away his freedom. I ho'e that some day soon he wi((
sto' resenting (ife sim'(y because some of its choices
are 'ainfu(.H
Dr. Hi(de 9ruch, in the 'reface to her boo% Learning
Psycho-thera.y, states that basica((y a(( 'atients come
to 'sychiatrists with one common 'rob(em0 the sense
of he('(essness, the fear and inner conviction of being
unab(e to Kco'e" and to change things. t One of the
roots of this sense of im'otence in the ma8ority of
'atients is some desire to 'artia((y or tota((y esca'e the
'ain of freedom, and, therefore, some fai(ure, 'artia( or
tota(, to acce't res'onsibi(ity for their 'rob(ems and
their (ives. They fee( im'otent because they have, in
fact, given their 'ower away. #ooner or (ater, if they are
to be
H Nowhere, to my %now(edge, is the issue of the freedom
to choose between two evi(s more e(o>uent(y and even
'oetica((y defined than by the 'sychiatrist )((en <hee(is, in
the cha'ter ;reedom and Necessity

in his boo% 2o
Peo.le !hange 4New 7or%0 Har'er L Row, *+,A5. It was
tem'ting to >uote the cha'ter in its entirety, and I
recommend it to anyone who desires to e/'(ore the issue
more fu((y.
t Cambridge, !ass., Harvard Univ. $ress, *+,B, '. i/.
hea(ed, they must (earn that the entirety of one"s adu(t (ife is a
series of 'ersona( choices, decisions. If they can acce't this
tota((y, then they become free 'eo'(e. To the e/tent that they
do not acce't this they wi(( forever fee( themse(ves victims.
*edication to Reality
The third too( of disci'(ine or techni>ue of dea(ing with the
'ain of 'rob(em.so(ving, which must continua((y be em'(oyed
if our (ives are to be hea(thy and our s'irits are to grow, is
dedication to the truth. #u'erficia((y, this shou(d be obvious.
;or truth is rea(ity. That which is fa(se is unrea(. The more
c(ear(y we see the rea(ity of the wor(d, the better e>ui''ed we
are to dea( with the wor(d. The (ess c(ear(y we see the rea(ity
of the wor(d.the more our minds are befudd(ed by fa(se.hood,
mis'erce'tions and i((usions.the (ess ab(e we wi(( be to
determine correct courses of action and ma%e wise decisions.
Our view of rea(ity is (i%e a ma' with which to negotiate the
terrain of (ife. If the ma' is true and accurate, we wi((
genera((y %now where we are, and if we have decided where
we want to go, we wi(( genera((y %now how to get there. If the
ma' is fa(se and inaccurate, we genera((y wi(( be (ost.
<hi(e this is obvious, it is something that most 'eo'(e to a
greater or (esser degree choose to ignore. They ignore it be.
cause our route to rea(ity is not easy. ;irst of a((, we are not
born with ma's: we have to ma%e them, and the ma%ing
re>uires effort. The more effort we ma%e to a''reciate and
'erceive rea(ity, the (arger and more accurate our ma's wi((
be. 9ut many do not want to ma%e this effort. #ome sto'
ma%ing it by the end of ado(escence. Their ma's +re sma((
and s%etchy, their views of the wor(d narrow and mis(eading.
DI#CI$?IN6
*edication to Reality 05
9y the end of midd(e age most 'eo'(e have given u' the
effort. They fee( certain that their ma's are com'(ete and
their <e(tanschauung is correct 4indeed, even sacrosanct5,
and they are no (onger interested in new information. It is as
if they are tired. On(y a re(ative and fortunate few continue
unti( the moment of death e/'(oring the mystery of rea(ity,
ever en(arging and refining and redefining their
understanding of the wor(d and what is true.
9ut the biggest 'rob(em of ma'.ma%ing is not that we
have to start from scratch, but that if our ma's are to be
accurate we have to continua((y revise them. The wor(d
itse(f is constant(y changing. =(aciers come, g(aciers go.
Cu(tures come, cu(tures go. There is too (itt(e techno(ogy,
there is too much techno(ogy. 6ven more dramatica((y, the
vantage 'oint from which we view the wor(d is constant(y
and >uite ra'id(y changing. <hen we are chi(dren we are
de'endent, 'ower.(ess. )s adu(ts we may be 'owerfu(. 7et in
i((ness or an infirm o(d age we may become 'ower(ess and
de'endent again. <hen we have chi(dren to care for, the
wor(d (oo%s different from when we have none: when we are
raising infants, the wor(d seems different from when we are
raising ado(escents. <hen we are 'oor, the wor(d (oo%s
different from when we are rich. <e are dai(y bombarded
with new information as to the nature of rea(ity. If we are to
incor'orate this information, we must continua((y revise our
ma's, and sometimes when enough new information has
accumu(ated, we must ma%e very ma8or revisions. The
'rocess of ma%ing revisions, 'articu(ar(y ma8or revisions, is
'ainfu(, sometimes e/cruciating(y 'ainfu(. )nd herein (ies
the ma8or source of many of the i((s of man%ind.
<hat ha''ens when one has striven (ong and hard to de.
ve(o' a wor%ing view of the wor(d, a seeming(y usefu(, wor%.
ab(e ma', and then is confronted with new information
suggesting that that view is wrong and the ma' needs to be
(arge(y redrawn& The 'ainfu( effort re>uired seems frighten.
ing, a(most overwhe(ming. <hat we do more often than not,
and usua((y unconscious(y, is to ignore the new information.
Often this act of ignoring is much more than 'assive. <e may
denounce the new information as fa(se, dangerous, heretica(,
the wor% of the devi(. <e may actua((y crusade against it, and
even attem't to mani'u(ate the wor(d so as to ma%e it
conform to our view of rea(ity. Rather than try to change the
ma', an individua( may try to destroy the new rea(ity. #ad(y,
such a 'erson may e/'end much more energy u(timate(y in
defending an outmoded view of the wor(d than wou(d have
been re>uired to revise and correct it in the first '(ace.
Trans"erence3 The 4utdated 5a.
This 'rocess of active c(inging to an outmoded view of
rea(ity is the basis for much menta( i((ness. $sychiatrists refer
to it as transference. There are 'robab(y as many subt(e vari.
ations of the definition of transference as there are 'sychia.
trists. !y own definition is0 Transference is that set of ways of
'erceiving and res'onding to the wor(d which is deve(o'ed in
chi(dhood and which is usua((y entire(y a''ro'riate to the
chi(dhood environment 4indeed, often (ife.saving5 but which is
ina..ro.riately transferred into the adu(t environment.
The ways in which transference manifests itse(f, whi(e a(.
ways 'ervasive and destructive, are often subt(e. 7et the
c(earest e/am'(es must be unsubt(e. One such e/am'(e was a
'atient whose treatment fai(ed by virtue of his transference.
He was a bri((iant but unsuccessfu( com'uter technician in his
ear(y thirties, who came to see me because his wife had (eft
him, ta%ing their two chi(dren. He was not 'articu(ar(y
unha''y to (ose her, but he was devastated by the (oss of his
chi(dren, to whom he was dee'(y attached. It was in the ho'e
of regaining them that he initiated 'sychothera'y, since his
BM DI#CI$?IN6
wife firm(y stated she wou(d never return to him un(ess he
had 'sychiatric treatment. Her 'rinci'a( com'(aints about
him were that he was continua((y and irrationa((y 8ea(ous
of her, and yet at the same time a(oof from her, co(d,
distant, uncommunicative and unaffectionate. #he a(so
com'(ained of his fre>uent changes of em'(oyment. His
(ife since ado(escence had been mar%ed(y unstab(e.
During ado(escence he was invo(ved in fre>uent minor
a(tercations with the 'o(ice, and had been 8ai(ed three
times for into/ication, be((igerence, (oitering, and
interfering with the duties of an officer. He dro''ed out
of co((ege, where he was studying e(ectrica( engineering,
because, as he said, !y teachers were a bunch of
hy'ocrites, hard(y different from the 'o(ice. 9ecause of
his bri((iance and creativeness in the fie(d of com'uter
techno(ogy, his services were in high demand by
industry. 9ut he had never been ab(e to advance or %ee' a
8ob for more than a year and a ha(f, occasiona((y being
fired, more often >uitting after dis'utes with his
su'ervisors, whom he described as (iars and cheats,
interested on(y in 'rotecting their own ass. His most
fre>uent e/'ression was 7ou can"t trust a goddamn sou(.
He described his chi(dhood as norma( and his 'arents as
average. In the brief 'eriod of time he s'ent with me,
however, he casua((y and unemotiona((y recounted
numerous instances during chi(dhood in which his 'arents
had (et him down. They 'romised him a bi%e for his
birthday, but they forgot about it and gave him something
e(se. Once they forgot his birthday entire(y, but he saw
nothing drastica((y wrong with this since they were very
busy. They wou(d 'romise to do things with him on
wee%ends, but then were usua((y too busy. Numerous
times they forgot to 'ic% him u' from meetings or 'arties
because they had a (ot on their minds.
<hat ha''ened to this man was that when he was a
young chi(d he suffered 'ainfu( disa''ointment after
'ainfu( disa''ointment through his 'arents" (ac% of
caring. =radua((y or sudden(y.I don"t %now which.he came
to the agoniFing rea(iFation in mid.chi(dhood that he cou(d
not trust his 'arents. Once he rea(iFed this, however, he
began to fee( better,
BM DI#CI$?IN6
and his (ife became more comfortab(e. He no (onger
e/'ected things from his 'arents or got his ho'es u' when
they made 'romises. <hen he sto''ed trusting his 'arents
the fre>uency and severity of his disa''ointments
diminished dramatica((y.
#uch an ad8ustment, however, is the basis for future 'rob.
(ems. To a chi(d his or her 'arents are everything: they re'.
resent the wor(d. The chi(d does not have the 'ers'ective to
see that other 'arents are different and fre>uent(y better.
He assumes that the way his 'arents do things is the way
that things are done. Conse>uent(y the rea(iFation.the
rea(ity .that this chi(d came to was not I can"t trust my
'arents but I can"t trust 'eo'(e. Not trusting 'eo'(e
therefore be.came the ma' with which he entered
ado(escence and adu(t.hood. <ith this ma' and with an
abundant store of resentment resu(ting from his many
disa''ointments, it was inevitab(e that he came into conf(ict
after conf(ict with authority figures.'o(ice, teacher,
em'(oyers. )nd these conf(icts on(y served to reinforce his
fee(ing that 'eo'(e who had any.thing to give him in the
wor(d cou(dn"t be trusted. He had many o''ortunities to
revise his ma', but they were a(( 'assed u'. ;or one thing,
the on(y way he cou(d (earn that there were some 'eo'(e in
the adu(t wor(d he cou(d trust wou(d be to ris% trusting
them, and that wou(d re>uire a deviation from his ma' to
begin with. ;or another, such re(earning wou(d re>uire him
to revise his view of his 'arents.to rea(iFe that they did not
(ove him, that he did not have a norma( chi(dhood and that
his 'arents were not average in their ca((ousness to his
needs. #uch a rea(iFation wou(d have been e/treme(y 'ainfu(.
;ina((y, because his distrust of 'eo'(e was a rea(istic ad.
8ustment to the rea(ity of his chi(dhood, it was an
ad8ustment that wor%ed in terms of diminishing his 'ain and
suffering. #ince it is e/treme(y difficu(t to give u' an
ad8ustment that once wor%ed so we((, he continued his
course of distrust, unconscious(y creating situations that
served to reinforce it, a(ienating himse(f from everyone,
ma%ing it im'ossib(e for himse(f to en8oy (ove, warmth,
intimacy and affection. He cou(d not even a((ow himse(f
c(oseness with his wife: she, too,
Trans"erence3 The 4utdated 5a. 55
$
cou(d not be trusted. The on(y 'eo'(e he cou(d re(ate with
intimate(y were his two chi(dren. They were the on(y ones
over whom he had contro(, the on(y ones who had no
authority over him, the on(y ones he cou(d trust in the who(e
wor(d.
<hen 'rob(ems of transference are invo(ved, as they usu.
a((y are, 'sychothera'y is, among other things, a 'rocess of
ma'.revising. $atients come to thera'y because their ma's
are c(ear(y not wor%ing. 9ut how they may c(ing to them and
fight the 'rocess every ste' of the way1 ;re>uent(y their
need to c(ing to their ma's and fight against (osing them is
so great that thera'y becomes im'ossib(e, as it did in the
case of the com'uter technician. Initia((y he re>uested a
#aturday a''ointment. )fter three sessions he sto''ed
coming because he too% a 8ob doing (awn.maintenance wor%
on #aturdays and #undays. I offered him a Thursday.
evening a''ointment. He came for two sessions and then
sto''ed because he was doing overtime wor% at the '(ant. I
then rearranged my schedu(e so I cou(d see him on !onday
evenings, when, he had said, overtime wor% was un(i%e(y.
)fter two more sessions, how.ever, he sto''ed coming
because !onday.night overtime wor% seemed to have
'ic%ed u'. I confronted him with the im'ossibi(ity of doing
thera'y under these circumstances. He admitted that he
was not re>uired to acce't overtime wor%. He stated,
however, that he needed the money and that the wor% was
more im'ortant to him than thera'y. He sti'u(ated that he
cou(d see me on(y on those !onday evenings when there
was no overtime wor% to be done and that he wou(d ca(( me
at four o"c(oc% every !onday afternoon to te(( me if he cou(d
%ee' his a''ointment that evening. I to(d him that these
conditions were not acce'tab(e to me, that I was unwi((ing
to set aside my '(ans every !onday evening on the chance
that he might be ab(e to come to his sessions. He fe(t that I
was being unreasonab(y rigid, that I had no concern for his
needs, that I was interested on(y in my own time and c(ear(y
cared nothing for him, and that therefore I cou(d not be
trusted. It was on this basis that our attem't to wor%
together was terminated, with me as another (andmar% on
his o(d ma'.
The 'rob(em of transference is not sim'(y a 'rob(em
between 'sychothera'ists and their 'atients. It is a
'rob(em between 'arents and chi(dren, husbands and
wives, em'(oyers and em'(oyees, between friends,
between grou's, and even between nations. It is
interesting to s'ecu(ate, for in.stance, on the ro(e that
transference issues '(ay in internationa( affairs. Our
nationa( (eaders are human beings who a(( had
chi(dhoods and chi(dhood e/'eriences that sha'ed
them. <hat ma' was Hit(er fo((owing, and where did it
come from& <hat ma' were )merican (eaders fo((owing
in initiating, e/ecuting and maintaining the war in
Dietnam& C(ear(y it was a ma' very different from that
of the generation that succeeded theirs. In what ways
did the nationa( e/'erience of the De'ression years
contribute to their ma', and the e/'erience of the
fifties and si/ties contribute to the ma' of the younger
generation& If the nationa( e/'erience of the thirties
and for.ties contributed to the behavior of )merican
(eaders in waging war in Dietnam, how a''ro'riate was
that e/'erience to the rea(ities of the si/ties and
seventies& How can we revise our ma's more ra'id(y&
Truth or rea(ity is avoided when it is 'ainfu(. <e can
revise our ma's on(y when we have the disci'(ine to
overcome that 'ain, To have such disci'(ine, we must
be tota((y dedicated to truth. That is to say that we
must a(ways ho(d truth, as best we can determine it, to
be more im'ortant, more vita( to our se(f.interest, than
our comfort. Converse(y, we must a(.ways consider our
'ersona( discomfort re(ative(y unim'ortant and, indeed,
even we(come it in the service of the search for truth.
!enta( hea(th is an ongoing 'rocess of dedication to
rea(ity at a(( costs.
A: DI#CI$?IN6
4.enness to !hallenge
<hat does a (ife of tota( dedication to the truth mean& It
means, first of a((, a (ife of continuous and never.ending
stringent se(f.e/amination. <e %now the wor(d on(y through
our re(ationshi' to it. Therefore, to %now the wor(d, we must
not on(y e/amine it but we must simu(taneous(y e/amine
the e/aminer. $sychiatrists are taught this in their training
and %now that it is im'ossib(e to rea(istica((y understand the
conf(icts and transferences of their 'atients without
understanding their own transferences and conf(icts. ;or
this reason 'sychiatrists are encouraged to receive their
own 'sychothera'y or 'sychoana(ysis as 'art of their
training and deve(o'ment. Unfortunate(y, not a((
'sychiatrists res'ond to this encouragement. There are
many, 'sychiatrists among them, who stringent(y e/amine
the wor(d but not so stringent(y e/.amine themse(ves. They
may be com'etent individua(s as the wor(d 8udges
com'etence, but they are never wise. The (ife of wisdom
must be a (ife of contem'(ation combined with action. In the
'ast in )merican cu(ture, contem'(ation has not been he(d
in high regard. In the *+23s 'eo'(e (abe(ed )d(ai #tevenson
an egghead and be(ieved he wou(d not ma%e a good
$resident 'recise(y because he was a contem'(ative man,
given to dee' thin%ing and se(f.doubts. I have heard 'arents
te(( their ado(escent chi(dren in a(( seriousness, 7ou thin%
too much. <hat an absurdity this is, given the fact that it is
our fronta( (obes, our ca'acity to thin% and to e/amine
ourse(ves that most ma%es us human. ;ortunate(y, such
attitudes seem to be changing, and we are beginning to
rea(iFe that the sources of danger to the wor(d (ie more
within us than
A? DI#CI$?IN6
outside, and that the 'rocess of constant se(f.e/amination
and contem'(ation is essentia( for u(timate surviva(. #ti((, I
am ta(%ing of re(ative(y sma(( numbers of 'eo'(e who are
changing their attitudes. 6/amination of the wor(d without
is never as 'ersona((y 'ainfu( as e/amination of the wor(d
within, and it is certain(y because of the 'ain invo(ved in a
(ife of genuine se(f.e/amination that the ma8ority steer
away from it. 7et when one is dedicated to the truth this
'ain seems re(ative(y unim'ortant.and (ess and (ess
im'ortant 4and therefore (ess and (ess 'ainfu(5 the farther
one 'roceeds on the 'ath of se(f.e/amination.
) (ife of tota( dedication to the truth a(so means a (ife of
wi((ingness to be 'ersona((y cha((enged. The on(y way
that we can be certain that our ma' of rea(ity is va(id is to
e/'ose it to the criticism and cha((enge of other ma'.
ma%ers. Other.wise we (ive in a c(osed system.within a
be(( 8ar, to use #y(via $(ath"s ana(ogy, rebreathing on(y
our own fetid air, more and more sub8ect to de(usion. 7et,
because of the 'ain inherent in the 'rocess of revising
our ma' of rea(ity, we most(y see% to avoid or ward off
any cha((enges to its va(idity. To our chi(dren we say,
Don"t ta(% bac% to me, I"m your 'arent. To our s'ouse
we give the message, ?et"s (ive and (et (ive. If you
criticiFe me, I"(( be a bitch to (ive with, and you"(( regret
it. To their fami(ies and the wor(d the e(der(y give the
message, I am o(d and fragi(e. If you cha((enge me I may
die or at (east you wi(( bear u'on your head the res'on.
sibi(ity for ma%ing my (ast days on earth miserab(e. To
our em'(oyees we communicate, If you are bo(d enough
to cha((enge me at a((, you had best do so very
circums'ect(y indeed or e(se you"(( find yourse(f (oo%ing
for another 8ob. H
H Not on(y individua(s but a(so organiFations are notorious
for 'rotecting themse(ves against cha((enge. I was once
directed by the Chief of #taff of the )rmy to 're'are an
ana(ysis of the 'sycho(ogica( causes of the !y ?ai
atrocities and their subse>uent cover.u', with recommen.
dations for research that might 'revent such behavior in
the future. The recommendations were disa''roved by the
)rmy genera( staff on the basis that the research
recommended cou(d not be %e't secret. "The
4.enness to !hallenge 56
The tendency to avoid cha((enge is so omni'resent in
human beings that it can 'ro'er(y be considered a character.
istic of human nature. 9ut ca((ing it natura( does not mean it
is essentia( or beneficia( or unchangeab(e behavior. It is a(so
natura( to defecate in our 'ants and never brush our teeth.
7et we teach ourse(ves to do the unnatura( unti( the unnatura(
becomes itse(f second nature. Indeed, a(( se(f.disci'(ine might
be defined as teaching ourse(ves to do the unnatura(. )nother
characteristic of human nature.'erha's the one that ma%es
us most human.is our ca'acity to do the unnatura(, to tran.
scend and hence transform our own nature.
No act is more unnatura(, and hence more human, than the
act of entering 'sychothera'y. ;or by this act we de(iberate(y
(ay ourse(ves o'en to the dee'est cha((enge from another
human being, and even 'ay the other for the service of scru.
tiny and discernment. This (aying o'en to cha((enge is one of
the things that (ying on the couch in the 'sychoana(yst"s office
may symbo(iFe. 6ntering 'sychothera'y is an act of the
greatest courage. The 'rimary reason 'eo'(e do not undergo
'sychothera'y is not that they (ac% the money but that they
(ac% the courage. This even inc(udes many 'sychiatrists
them.
e/istence of such research might o'en us u' to further
cha((enge. The $resident and the )rmy don
"
t need more
cha((enges at this time,

I was to(d. Thus an ana(ysis of the

reasons for an incident that was covered u' was itse(f
covered u'. #uch behavior is not (imited to the mi(itary or
the <hite House: to the contrary, it is common to
Congress, other federa( agencies, cor'orations, even
universities and charitab(e organiFations.in short, a((
human organiFations. Gust as it is necessary for individua(s
to acce't and even we(come cha((enges to their ma's of
reality and modi operandi if they are to grow in wisdom
and effectiveness, so it is a(so necessary for organiFations
to acce't and we(come cha((enges if they are to be viab(e
and 'rogressive institutions. This fact is being increasing(y
recogniFed by such individua(s as Gohn =ardner of Common
Cause, to whom it is c(ear that one of the most e/citing
and essentia( tas%s facing our society in the ne/t few
decades is to bui(d into the bureaucratic structure of our
>< DI#CI$?IN6
organiFations an institutiona(iFed o'enness and
res'onsiveness to cha((enge which wi(( re'(ace the insti.
tutiona(iFed resistance current(y ty'ica(.
4.enness to !hallenge 71
se(ves, who somehow never >uite seem to find it convenient
to enter their own thera'y des'ite the fact that they have
even more reason than others to submit themse(ves to the
disci'(ine invo(ved. It is because they 'ossess this courage, on
the other hand, that many 'sychoana(ytic 'atients, even at
the outset of thera'y and contrary to their stereoty'ica(
image, are 'eo'(e who are basica((y much stronger and
hea(thier than aver.age.
<hi(e undergoing 'sychothera'y is an u(timate form of
being o'en to cha((enge, our more ordinary interactions dai(y
offer us simi(ar o''ortunities to ris% o'enness0 at the water
coo(er, in conference, on the go(f course, at the dinner tab(e,
in bed when the (ights are out: with our co((eagues, our su'er.
visors and em'(oyees, with our mates, our friends, our (overs,
with our 'arents and our chi(dren. ) neat(y coiffured woman
who had been seeing me for some time began to comb her
hair each time she got u' from the couch at the end of a
session. I commented on this new 'attern to her behavior.
#evera( wee%s ago my husband noticed that my hairdo was
f(attened in the bac% after I returned from a session, she
e/'(ained, b(ushing. I didn"t te(( him why. I"m afraid he might
tease me if he %nows I (ie on the couch in here. #o we had
another issue to wor% on. The greatest va(ue of 'sycho.
thera'y derives from the e/tension of the disci'(ine invo(ved
during the fifty.minute hour into the 'atient"s dai(y affairs
and re(ationshi's. The hea(ing of the s'irit has not been com.
'(eted unti( o'enness to cha((enge becomes a way of (ife.
This woman wou(d not be who((y we(( unti( she cou(d be as
forth.right with her husband as she was with me.
Of a(( those who come to a 'sychiatrist or 'sychothera'ist
very few are initia((y (oo%ing on a conscious (eve( for cha((enge
or an education in disci'(ine. !ost are sim'(y see%ing re(ief.
<hen they rea(iFe they are going to be cha((enged as we(( as
su''orted, many f(ee and others are tem'ted to f(ee. Teaching
them that the on(y rea( re(ief wi(( come through cha((enge
and disci'(ine is a de(icate, often (engthy and fre>uent(y
unstuc%.
>; DI#CI$?IN6
cessfu( tas%. <e s'ea%, therefore, of seducing
'atients into 'sychothera'y. )nd we may say of some
'atients whom we have been seeing for a year or more,
They have not rea((y entered thera'y yet.
O'enness in 'sychothera'y is 'articu(ar(y encouraged
4or demanded, de'ending u'on your 'oint of view5 by
the techni>ue of free association. <hen this
techni>ue is used the 'atient is to(d0 $ut into words
whatever comes into your mind, no matter how
seeming(y insignificant or embarrassing or 'ainfu( or
meaning(ess. If there is more than one thing in your
mind at the same time, then you are to choose to s'ea%
that thing about which you are most re(uctant to
s'ea%. It"s easier said than done. Nonethe(ess, those
who wor% at it conscientious(y usua((y ma%e swift
'rogress. 9ut some are so resistant to cha((enge that
they sim'(y 'retend to free.associ ate. They ta(% vo(ub(y
enough about this or that, but they (eave out the crucia(
detai(s. ) woman may s'ea% for an hour about
un'(easant chi(dhood e/'eriences but neg(ect to men.
tion that her husband had confronted her in the
morning with the fact that she had overdrawn their
ban% account by a thou.sand do((ars. #uch 'atients
attem't to transform the 'sycho.thera'eutic hour into a
%ind of 'ress conference. )t best they are wasting time
in their effort to avoid cha((enge, and usua((y they are
indu(ging in a subt(e form of (ying.
;or individua(s and organiFations to be o'en to
cha((enge, it is necessary that their ma's of rea(ity be
truly o'en for ins'ection by the 'ub(ic. !ore than 'ress
conferences are re>uired. The third thing that a (ife of
tota( dedication to the truth means, therefore, is a (ife
of tota( honesty . It means a continuous and never.
ending 'rocess of se(f.monitoring to as.sure that our
communications.not on(y the words that we say but
a(so the way we say them.invariab(y ref(ect as ac.
curate(y as human(y 'ossib(e the truth or rea(ity as we
%now
it.
#uch honesty does not come 'ain(ess(y. The reason
'eo'(e (ie is to avoid the 'ain of cha((enge and its
conse>uences.
2C DI#CI$?IN6
$resident Ni/on"s (ying about <atergate was no more
so'histicated or different in %ind from that of a four.
year.o(d who (ies to his or her mother about how the
(am' ha''ened to fa(( off the tab(e and get bro%en.
Insofar as the nature of the cha((enge is (egitimate 4and
it usua((y is5, (ying is an attem't to circumvent
(egitimate suffering and hence is 'roductive of menta(
i((ness.
The conce't of circumvention raises the issue of
shortcutting. <henever we attem't to circumvent an
obstac(e, we are (oo%ing for a 'ath to our goa( which
wi(( be easier and therefore >uic%er0 a shortcut.
9e(ieving that the growth of the human s'irit is the end
of human e/istence, I am obvious(y dedicated to the
notion of 'rogress. It is right and 'ro'er that as human
beings we shou(d grow and 'rogress as ra'id(y as
'ossib(e. It is therefore right and 'ro'er that we shou(d
avai( ourse(ves of any (egitimate shortcut to 'ersona(
growth. The %ey word, however, is (egitimate. Human
beings have a(.most as much of a tendency to ignore
(egitimate shortcuts as they do to search out
i((egitimate ones. It is, for instance, a (egitimate
shortcut to study a syno'sis of a boo% instead of
reading the origina( boo% in its entirety in 're'aration
for an e/amination for a degree. If the syno'sis is a
good one, and the materia( is absorbed, the essentia(
%now(edge can be obtained in a manner that saves
considerab(e time and effort. Cheating, however,, is not
a (egitimate shortcut. It may save even greater
amounts of time and, if successfu((y e/ecuted, may gain
the cheater a 'assing mar% on the e/am and the
coveted degree. 9ut the essentia( %now(edge has not
been obtained. Therefore the degree is a (ie, a
misre'resentation. Insofar as the degree becomes a
basis for (ife, the cheater"s (ife becomes a (ie and
misre'resentation and is often devoted to 'rotecting
and 'reserving the (ie.
=enuine 'sychothera'y is a (egitimate shortcut to
'ersona( growth which is often ignored. One of the most
4.enness to !hallenge 75
fre>uent rationa(iFations for ignoring it is to >uestion its
(egitimacy by saying, I"m afraid that 'sychothera'y
wou(d get to be a
crutch. I don"t want to become de'endent on a crutch.
9ut this is usua((y a cover.u' for more significant fears.
The use of 'sychothera'y is no more a crutch than the use
of hammer and nai(s to bui(d a house. It is 'ossib(e to bui(d
a house without hammer and nai(s, but the 'rocess is
genera((y not efficient or desirab(e. ;ew car'enters wi((
des'air of their de'endency on hammer and nai(s.
#imi(ar(y, it is 'ossib(e to achieve 'ersona( growth without
em'(oying 'sychothera'y, but often the tas% is
unnecessari(y tedious, (engthy and difficu(t. It genera((y
ma%es sense to uti(iFe avai(ab(e too(s as a shortcut.
On the other hand, 'sychothera'y may be sought as
an i((egitimate shortcut. This most common(y occurs in
certain cases of 'arents see%ing 'sychothera'y for their
chi(dren. They want their chi(dren to change in some way0
sto' using drugs, sto' having tem'er tantrums, sto'
getting bad grades, and so on. #ome 'arents have
e/hausted their own resource.fu(ness in trying to he('
their chi(dren and come to the 'sychothera'ist with a
genuine wi((ingness to wor% on the 'rob(em. Others as
often as not come with the overt %now(edge of the cause
of their chi(d"s 'rob(em, ho'ing that the 'sychiatrist wi((
be ab(e to do some magica( something to change the
chi(d without having to change the basic cause of the
'rob(em. ;or instance, some 'arents wi(( o'en(y say, <e
%now that we have a 'rob(em in our marriage, and that
this (i%e(y has something to do with our son"s 'rob(em.
Nonethe(ess, we do not want our marriage tam'ered with:
we do not want you to do thera'y with us: we want you
8ust to wor% with our son, if 'ossib(e, to he(' him be
ha''ier. Others are (ess o'en. They wi(( come 'rofessing
a wi((ingness to do any.thing that"s necessary, but when it
is e/'(ained to them that their chi(d"s sym'toms are an
e/'ression of his resentment toward their who(e (ife sty(e,
which (eaves no rea( room for his nurture, they wi(( say, It
is ridicu(ous to thin% that we shou(d turn ourse(ves inside
out for him, and they wi(( de'art to (oo% for another
'sychiatrist, one who might offer
4.enness to !hallenge 77
them a 'ain(ess shortcut. ;arther down the 'i%e they wi((
(i%e(y te(( their friends and themse(ves, <e have done
every.thing 'ossib(e for our boy: we have even gone to four
se'arate 'sychiatrists with him, but nothing has he('ed.
<e (ie, of course, not on(y to others but a(so to ourse(ves.
The cha((enges to our ad8ustment.our ma's.from our own
consciences and our own rea(istic 'erce'tions may be every
bit as (egitimate and 'ainfu( as any cha((enge from the
'ub(ic. Of the myriad (ies that 'eo'(e often te(( themse(ves,
two of the most common, 'otent and destructive are <e
rea((y (ove our chi(dren and Our 'arents rea((y (oved us. It
may be that our 'arents did (ove us and we do (ove our
chi(dren, but when it is not the case, 'eo'(e often go to
e/traordinary (engths to avoid the rea(iFation. I fre>uent(y
refer to 'sycho.thera'y as the truth game or the honesty
game because its business is among other things to he('
'atients confront such (ies. One of the roots of menta( i((ness
is invariab(y an inter(oc%ing system of (ies we have been to(d
and (ies we have to(d ourse(ves. These roots can be
uncovered and e/cised on(y in an atmos'here of utter
honesty. To create this atmos'here it is essentia( for
thera'ists to bring to their re(ationshi's with 'atients a tota(
ca'acity for o'enness and truthfu(ness. How can a 'atient be
e/'ected to endure the 'ain of confronting rea(ity un(ess we
bear the same 'ain& <e can (ead on(y insofar as we go
before.
>? DI#CI$?IN6
Withholding Truth
?ying can be divided into two ty'es0 white (ies and
b(ac% (ies.H ) b(ac% (ie is a statement we ma%e that we
%now is fa(se, ) white (ie is a statement we ma%e that is
not in itse(f fa(se but that (eaves out a significant 'art of
the truth. The fact that a (ie is white does not in itse(f
ma%e it any (ess of a (ie or any more e/cusab(e. <hite
(ies may be every bit as destructive as b(ac% ones. )
government that withho(ds essentia( information from
its 'eo'(e by censorshi' is no more democratic than one
that s'ea%s fa(se(y. The 'atient who neg(ected to
mention that she had overdrawn the fami(y ban%
account was im'eding her growth in thera'y no (ess
than if she had (ied direct(y,. Indeed, because it %ay
see% (ess re'rehensib(e, the withho(ding of essentia(
information is the most common form of (ying, and
because it may be the more difficu(t to detect and con.
front, it is often even more 'ernicious than b(ac%.(ying.
<hite.(ying is considered socia((y acce'tab(e in many
of our re(ationshi's because we don"t want to hurt
.eo.les8 fee(ings. 7et we may bemoan the fact that our
socia( re(ation.shi's are genera((y su'erficia(. ;or
'arents to feed their chi(dren a 'a' of white (ies is not
on(y considered acce'tab(e but is thought to be (oving
and beneficent. 6ven husbands and ives who have
been brave enough to be o'en with each other find it
difficu(t often to be o'en with their chi(dren,
H The C.I.)., which has 'articu(ar e/'ertise in this area,
natura((y uses a more e(aborate system of c(assification
and wi(( s'ea% of white, gray and b(ac% 'ro'aganda, gray
'ro'aganda being a sing(e b(ac% (ie and b(ac% 'ro'aganda
a b(ac% (ie fa(se(y attributed to another source.
Withholding Truth
They do not te(( their chi(dren that they smo%e
mari8uana, or that they fought with each other the
night before concerning their re(ationshi', or that they
resent the grand'arents for their mani'u(ative ness, or
that the doctor has to(d one or both that they have
'sychosomatic disorders, or that they are ma%ing a
ris%y financia( investment or even how much money
they have in the ban%. Usua((y such withho(ding and
(ac% of o'enness is rationa(iFed on the basis of a (oving
desire to 'rotect and shie(d their chi(dren from
unnecessary worries. 7et more often than not such
'rotection is unsuccessfu(. The chi(dren %now
anyway that !ommy and Daddy smo%e 'ot, that they
had a fight the night before, that the grand'arents are
resented, that !ommy is nervous and that Daddy is
(osing money. The resu(t, then, is not 'rotection but
de'rivation. The chi(dren are de'rived of the
%now(edge they might gain about money, i((ness,
drugs, se/, marriage, their 'arents, their grand'arents
and 'eo'(e in genera(. They are a(so de'rived of the
reassurance they might receive if these to'ics were
discussed more o'en(y. ;ina((y, they are de'rived of
ro(e mode(s of o'enness and honesty, and are 'rovided
instead with ro(e mode(s of 'artia( honesty, incom'(ete
o'enness and (imited courage. ;or some 'arents the
desire to 'rotect their chi(dren is motivated by
genuine a(beit misguided (ove. ;or others, however,
the (oving desire to 'rotect their chi(dren serves
more as a cover.u' and rationa(iFation of a desire to
avoid being cha((enged by their chi(dren, and a desire
to maintain their authority over them. #uch 'arents
are saying in effect, ?oo%, %ids, you go on being
chi(dren with chi(dish concerns and (eave the adu(t
concerns u' to us. #ee us as strong and (oving
careta%ers. #uch an image is good for both of us, so
don"t cha((enge it. It a((ows us to fee( strong and you to
fee( safe, and it wi(( be easier for a(( of us if we don"t
(oo% into these things too dee'(y.
Nonethe(ess, a rea( conf(ict may arise when the
desire for tota( honesty is o''osed by the needs of
some 'eo'(e for certain %inds of 'rotection. ;or
instance, even 'arents with e/ce((ent marriages may
occasiona((y consider divorce as one
:< DI#CI$?IN6
of their 'ossib(e o'tions, but to inform their chi(dren of
this at a time when they are not at a(( (i%e(y to o't for
divorce is to '(ace an unnecessary burden u'on the
chi(dren. The idea of divorce is e/treme(y threatening to
a chi(d"s sense of security . i ndeed, so threatening that
chi(dren do not have the ca'acity to 'erceive it with
much 'ers'ective. They are serious(y threatened by the
'ossibi(ity of divorce even when it is re.mote. If their
'arents" marriage is definite(y on the roc%s, then
chi(dren wi(( be dea(ing with the threatening 'ossibi(ity
of divorce whether or not their 'arents ta(% about it. 9ut
if the marriage is basica((y sound, 'arents wou(d indeed
be doing their chi(dren a disservice if they said with
com'(ete o'enness, !ommy and Daddy were ta(%ing
(ast night about getting a divorce, but we"re not at a((
serious about it at this time. )s another instance, it is
fre>uent(y necessary for 'sychothera'ists to withho(d
their own thoughts, o'inions and insights from 'atients
in the ear(ier stages of 'sychothera'y because the
'atients are not yet ready to receive or dea( with them.
During my first year of 'sychiatric training a 'atient on
his fourth visit to me recounted a dream that obvious(y
e/'ressed a concern with homose/ua(ity. In my desire to
a''ear to be a bri((iant thera'ist and ma%e ra'id
'rogress I to(d him, 7our dream indicates that you are
concerned with worries that you might be homose/ua(.
He grew visib(y an/ious, and he did not %ee' his ne/t
three a''ointments. On(y with a good dea( of wor% and
an even greater amount of (uc% was I ab(e to 'ersuade
him to return to thera'y. <e had another twenty
sessions before he had to move from the area because
of a business reassignment. These sessions were of
consider.ab(e benefit to him des'ite the fact that we
never again raised the issue of homose/ua(ity. The fact
that his unconscious was concerned with the issue did
not mean that he was at a(( ready to dea( with it on a
conscious (eve(, and by not withho(ding my insight from
him I did him a grave disservice, a(most (osing him not
on(y as my 'atient but as anyone"s 'atient.
The se(ective withho(ding of one"s o'inions must a(so be
'racticed from time to time in the wor(d of business or
Withholding Truth
'o(itics
:; DI#CI$?IN6
if one is to be we(comed into the counci(s of 'ower. If
'eo'(e were a(ways to s'ea% their minds on issues both
great and sma((, they wou(d be considered
insubordinate by the average su'ervisor, and a threat
to an organiFation by management. They wou(d gain
re'utations for abrasiveness and wou(d be deemed too
untrustworthy ever to be a''ointed as s'o%esmen for
an organiFation. There is sim'(y no way around the fact
that if one is to be at a(( effective within an
organiFation, he or she must 'artia((y become an
organiFation 'erson, circums'ect in the e/'ression of
individua( o'inions, merging at times 'ersona( identity
with that of the organiFation. On the other hand, if one
regards one"s effectiveness in an organiFation as the
on(y goa( of organiFationa( behavior, 'ermitting on(y
the e/'ression of those o'inions that wou(d not ma%e
waves, then one has a((owed the end to 8ustify the
means, and wi(( have (ost 'ersona( integrity and identity
by becoming the total organiFation 'erson. The road that
a great e/ecutive must trave( between the 'reservation
and the (oss of his or her identity and integrity is
e/traordinari(y narrow, and very, very few rea((y ma%e
the tri' successfu((y. It is an enormous cha((enge.
#o the e/'ression of o'inions, fee(ings, ideas and
even %now(edge must be su''ressed from time to time
in these and many other circumstances in the course of
human affairs. <hat ru(es, then, can one fo((ow if one is
dedicated to the truth& ;irst, never s'ea% fa(sehood.
#econd, bear in mind that the act of withho(ding the
truth is a(ways 'otentia((y a (ie, and that in each
instance in which the truth is withhe(d a significant
mora( decision is re>uired. Third, the decision to
withho(d the truth shou(d never be based on 'ersona(
needs, such as a need for 'ower, a need to be (i%ed or a
need to 'rotect one"s ma' from cha((enge. ;ourth, and
converse(y, the decision to withho(d the truth must
a(ways be based entire(y u'on the needs of the 'erson
or 'eo'(e from whom the truth is being withhe(d. ;ifth,
the assessment of another"s needs is an act of
res'onsibi(ity which is so com'(e/ that it can on(y
Withholding Truth
be e/ecuted wise(y when one o'erates with genuine
(ove for the other. #i/th, the 'rimary factor in the
assessment of an.other"s needs is the assessment of
that 'erson"s ca'acity to uti(iFe the truth for his or her
own s'iritua( growth. ;ina((y, in assessing the ca'acity
of another to uti(iFe the truth for 'ersona( s'iritua(
growth, it shou(d be borne in mind that our tendency is
genera((y to underestimate rather than overesti mate
this ca'acity.
)(( this might seem (i%e an e/traordinary tas%,
im'ossib(e to ever 'erfect(y com'(ete, a chronic and
never.ending bur.den, a rea( drag. )nd it is indeed a
never.ending burden of se(f.disci'(ine, which is why
most 'eo'(e o't for a (ife of very (imited honesty and
o'enness and re(ative c(osedness, hiding themse(ves
and their ma's from the wor(d. It is easier that way. 7et
the rewards of the difficu(t (ife of honesty and dedi .
cation to the truth are more than commensurate with
the demands. 9y virtue of the fact that their ma's are
continua((y being cha((enged, o'en 'eo'(e are
continua((y growing 'eo'(e. Through their o'enness
they can estab(ish and maintain intimate re(ationshi's
far more effective(y than more c(osed 'eo'(e. 9ecause
they never s'ea% fa(se(y they can be secure and 'roud
in the %now(edge that they have done nothing to
contribute to the confusion of the wor(d, but have
served as sources of i((umination and c(arification.
;ina((y, they are to.ta((y free to be. They are not
burdened by any need to hide. They do not have to
s(in% around in the shadows. They do not have to
construct new (ies to hide o(d ones. They need waste no
effort covering trac%s or maintaining disguises. )nd
u(timate(y they find that the energy re>uired for the
se(f.disci'(ine of honesty is far (ess than the energy
re>uired for secretiveness. The more honest one is, the
easier it is to continue being honest, 8ust as the more
(ies one has to(d, the more necessary it is to (ie again.
9y their o'enness, 'eo'(e dedicated to the truth (ive in
the o'en, and through the e/ercise of their courage to
(ive in the o'en, they become free from fear.
:= DI#CI$?IN6
9alancing
9y this time I ho'e it is becoming c(ear that the e/ercise of
disci'(ine is not on(y a demanding but a(so a com'(e/ tas%,
re>uiring both f(e/ibi(ity and 8udgment. Courageous 'eo'(e
must continua((y 'ush themse(ves to be com'(ete(y honest,
yet must a(so 'ossess the ca'acity to withho(d the who(e
truth when a''ro'riate. To be free 'eo'(e we must assume
tota( res'onsibi(ity for ourse(ves, but in doing so must
'ossess the ca'acity to re8ect res'onsibi(ity that is not tru(y
ours. To be organiFed and efficient, to (ive wise(y, we must
dai(y de(ay gratification and %ee' an eye on the future: yet to
(ive 8oyous(y we must a(so 'ossess the ca'acity, when it is
not destructive, to (ive in the 'resent and act s'ontaneous(y.
In other words, disci'(ine itse(f must be disci'(ined. The ty'e
of disci'(ine re>uired to disci'(ine disci'(ine is what I ca((
ba(ancing, and it is the fourth and fina( ty'e that I wou(d (i%e
to discuss here.
9a(ancing is the disci'(ine that gives us f(e/ibi(ity. 6/traor.
dinary f(e/ibi(ity is re>uired for successfu( (iving in a(( s'heres
of activity. To use but one e/am'(e, (et us consider the
matter of anger and its e/'ression. )nger is an emotion bred
into us 4and into (ess evo(ved organisms5 by count(ess
generations of evo(ution in order that our surviva( may be
encouraged. <e e/'erience anger whenever we 'erceive
another organism at.tem'ting to encroach u'on our
geogra'hica( or 'sycho(ogica( territory or trying, one way or
another, to 'ut us down. It (eads us to fight bac%. <ithout our
anger we wou(d indeed be continua((y ste''ed on, unti( we
were tota((y s>uashed and e/terminated. On(y with anger can
we survive. 7et, more often than not, when we initia((y
'erceive others as attem't.
:A DI#CI$?IN6
ing to encroach on us, we rea(iFe u'on c(oser
e/amination that that is not what they intend to do at
a((. Or even when we determine that 'eo'(e are tru(y
intending to encroach on us, we may rea(iFe that, for
one reason or another, it is not in our best interests to
res'ond to that im'osition with anger. Thus it is
necessary that the higher centers of our brain
48udgment5 be ab(e to regu(ate and modu(ate the (ower
centers 4emotion5. To function successfu((y in our
com'(e/ wor(d it is necessary for us to 'ossess the
ca'acity not on(y to e/'ress our anger but a(so not to
e/'ress it. !oreover, we must 'ossess the ca'acity to
e/'ress our anger in different ways. )t times, for
instance, it is necessary to e/'ress it on(y after much
de(iberation and se(f.eva(uation. )t other times it is
more to our benefit to e/'ress it immediate(y and
s'ontaneous(y. #ome.times it is best to e/'ress it co(d(y
and ca(m(y: at other times (oud(y and hot(y. <e
therefore not on(y need to %now how to dea( with our
anger in different ways at different times but a(so how
most a''ro'riate(y to match the right time with the right
sty(e of e/'ression. To hand(e our anger with fu(( ade.
>uacy and com'etence, an e(aborate, f(e/ib(e res'onse
system is re>uired. It is no wonder, then, that to (earn to
hand(e our anger is a com'(e/ tas% which usua((y cannot
be com'(eted before adu(thood, or even mid.(ife, and
which often is never com'(eted.
To a greater or (esser degree, a(( 'eo'(e suffer from
inade>uacies of their f(e/ib(e res'onse systems. !uch of
the wor% of 'sychothera'y consists of attem'ting to
he(' our 'atients a((ow or ma%e their res'onse systems
become more f(e/ib(e. =enera((y, the more cri''(ed by
an/iety, gui(t and insecurity our 'atients are, the more
difficu(t and rudimentary this wor% is. ;or e/am'(e, I
wor%ed with a brave thirty.two.year.o(d schiFo'hrenic
woman to whom it was a veritab(e reve(ation to (earn
that there are some men she shou(d not (et in her front
door, some she shou(d (et into her (iving room but not
her bedroom, and some she cou(d (et into her bedroom.
$revious(y she had o'erated with a res'onse system by
which she either had to (et everyone into her bedroom
or, when this
:> DI#CI$?IN6
res'onse did not seem to be wor%ing, not (et anyone in her
front door. Thus she bounced between degrading 'romiscu.
ity and arid iso(ation. <ith the same woman it was
necessary for us to s'end severa( sessions focusing on the
matter of than%.you notes. #he fe(t com'e((ed to send a
(engthy, e(aborate, hand.written, 'hrase. and word.'erfect
(etter in res'onse to each and every gift or invitation she
received. Inevitab(y she cou(d not continua((y carry such a
burden, with the resu(t that she wou(d either write no notes
at a(( or wou(d re8ect a(( gifts and invitations. )gain, she was
astounded to (earn that there were some gifts that did not
re.>uire than%.you notes, and that when these were
re>uired, short notes sometimes sufficed.
!ature menta( hea(th demands, then, an e/traordinary
ca'acity to f(e/ib(y stri%e and continua((y restri%e a de(icate
ba(ance between conf(icting needs, goa(s, duties,
res'onsibi(ities, directions, et cetera. The essence of this
disci'(ine of ba(ancing is giving u'. I remember first being
taught this one summer morning in my ninth year. I had
recent(y (earned to ride a bi%e and was 8oyous(y e/'(oring
the dimensions of my new s%i((. )bout a mi(e from our house
the road went down a stee' hi(( and turned shar'(y at the
bottom. Coasting down the hi(( on my bi%e that morning I
fe(t my gathering s'eed to be ecstatic. To give u' this
ecstasy by the a''(ication of bra%es seemed an absurd se(f.
'unishment. #o I reso(ved to simu(taneous(y retain my
s'eed and negotiate the corner at the bottom. !y ecstasy
ended seconds (ater when I was 'ro'e((ed a doFen feet off
the road into the woods. I was bad(y scratched and b(eeding
and the front whee( of my new bi%e was twisted beyond use
from its im'act against a tree. I had (ost my ba(ance.
9a(ancing is a disci'(ine 'recise(y because the act of giving
something u' is 'ainfu(. In this instance I had been unwi((ing
to suffer the 'ain of giving u' my ecstatic s'eed in the
interest of maintaining my ba(ance around the corner. I
(earned, how.ever, that the (oss of ba(ance is u(timate(y
more 'ainfu( than the giving u' re>uired to maintain
ba(ance. In one way or
:: DI#CI$?IN6
%
another it is a (esson I have continua((y had to re(earn
through.out my (ife. )s must everyone, for as we negotiate
the curves and corners of our (ives, we must continua((y
give u' 'arts of ourse(ves. The on(y a(ternative to this giving
u' is not to trave( at a(( on the 8ourney of (ife.
It may seem strange, but most 'eo'(e choose this a(terna.
tive and e(ect not to continue with their (ife 8ourneys.to sto'
short by some distance.in order to avoid the 'ain of giving
u' 'arts of themse(ves. If it does seem strange, it is
because you do not understand the de'th of the 'ain that
may be invo(ved. In its ma8or forms, giving u' is the most
'ainfu( of human e/'eriences. Thus far I have been ta(%ing
about minor forms of giving u'.giving u' s'eed or the
(u/ury of s'ontaneous anger or the safety of withhe(d anger
or the neatness of a than%.you note. ?et me turn now to the
giving u' of 'ersona(ity traits, we((.estab(ished 'atterns of
behavior, ideo(ogies, and even who(e (ife sty(es. These are
ma8or forms of giving u' that are re>uired if one is to trave(
very far on the 8ourney of (ife.
One night recent(y I decided to s'end some free time
bui(ding a ha''ier and c(oser re(ationshi' with my fourteen.
year o(d daughter. ;or severa( wee%s she had been urging
me to '(ay chess with her, so I suggested a game. #he
eager(y acce'ted and we sett(ed down to a most even and
cha((enging match. It was a schoo( night, however, and at
nine o"c(oc% my daughter as%ed if I cou(d hurry my moves,
because she needed to get to bed: she had to get u' at si/
in the morning. I %new her to be rigid(y disci'(ined in her
s(ee'ing habits, and it seemed to me that she ought to be
ab(e to give u' some of this rigidity. I to(d her, Come on,
you can go to bed a (itt(e (ater for once. 7ou shou(dn"t start
games that you can"t finish. <e"re having fun. <e '(ayed
on for another fifteen minutes, during which time she
became visib(y discomfited. ;ina((y she '(eaded, $(ease,
Daddy, '(ease hurry your moves. No goddammit, I
re'(ied. Chess is a serious game. If you"re
g
oing to '(ay it
we((, you"re going to '(ay it s(ow(y. If you don"t want to '(ay
it serious(y, you might as we(( not '(ay it
:? DI#CI$?IN6
,,
at a((. )nd so, with her fee(ing miserab(e, we continued for
another ten minutes, unti( sudden(y my daughter burst into
tears, ye((ed that she conceded the stu'id game, and ran
wee'ing u' the stairs.
Immediate(y I fe(t as if I were nine years o(d again, (ying
b(eeding in the bushes by the side of the road, ne/t to my
bi%e. C(ear(y I had made a mista%e. C(ear(y I had fai(ed to
negotiate a turn in the road. I had started the evening wanting
to have a ha''y time with my daughter. Ninety minutes (ater
she was in tears and so angry at me she cou(d hard(y s'ea%.
<hat had gone wrong& The answer was obvious. 9ut I did not
want to see the answer, so it too% me two hours to wade
through the 'ain of acce'ting the fact that I had botched the
evening by a((owing my desire to win a chess game become
more im'ortant than my desire to bui(d a re(ationshi' with
my daughter. I was de'ressed in earnest then. How had I
gotten so out of ba(ance& =radua((y it dawned on me that my
desire to win was too great and that I needed to give u'
some of this desire. 7et even this (itt(e giving u' seemed
im'ossib(e. )(( my (ife my desire to win had served me in
good stead, for I had won many things. How was it 'ossib(e to
'(ay chess without wanting to win& I had never been
comfortab(e doing things unenthusiastica((y. How cou(d I
conceivab(y '(ay chess enthusiastica((y but not serious(y& 7et
somehow I had to change, for I %new that my enthusiasm, my
com'etitiveness and my seriousness were 'art of a behavior
'attern that was wor%ing and wou(d continue to wor% toward
a(ienating my chi(dren from me, and that if I were not ab(e to
modify this 'attern, there wou(d be other times of
unnecessary tears and bitterness. !y de'ression continued.
!y de'ression is over now. I have given u' 'art of my
desire to win at games. That 'art of me is gone now. It died.
It had to die. I %i((ed it. I %i((ed it with my desire to win at
'arenting. <hen I was a chi(d my desire to win at games
served me we((. )s a 'arent, I recogniFed that it got in my
way. #o it had to go. The times have changed. To move with
:B DI#CI$?IN6
them I had to give it u'. I do not miss it. I thought I wou(d,
but I don"t.
The 2ealthiness o" *e.ression
The foregoing is a minor e/am'(e of what those 'eo'(e
with the courage to ca(( themse(ves 'atients must go
through in more ma8or ways, and often many times, in the
'rocess of 'sychothera'y. The 'eriod of intensive
'sychothera'y is a 'eriod of intensive growth, during which
the 'atient may undergo more changes than some 'eo'(e
e/'erience in a (ife.time. ;or this growth s'urt to occur, a
'ro'ortionate amount of the o(d se(f" must be given u'. It is
an inevitab(e 'art of successfu( 'sychothera'y. In fact, this
'rocess of giving u' usua((y begins before the 'atient has
his first a''ointment with the 'sychothera'ist. ;re>uent(y,
for instance, the act of deciding to see% 'sychiatric
attention in itse(f re'resents a giving u' of the se(f.image
I"m OE. This giving u' may be 'articu(ar(y difficu(t for
ma(es in our cu(ture for whom I"m not OE and I need
assistance to understand why I"m not OE and how to
become OE is fre>uent(y and sad(y e>uated with I"m wea%,
unmascu(ine and inade>uate. )ctua((y, the giving.u'
'rocess often begins even before the 'atient has arrived at
the decision to see% 'sychiatric attention. I mentioned that
during the 'rocess of giving u' my desire to a(ways win I was
de'ressed. This is because the fee(ing associated with
giving u' something (oved.or at (east something that is a
'art of ourse(ves and fami(iar.is de'ression. #ince menta((y
hea(thy human beings must grow, and since giving u' or
(oss of the o(d se(f is an integra( 'art of the 'rocess of menta(
and s'iritua(
The 2ealthiness o" *e.ression :;
DI#CI$?IN6
growth, de'ression is a norma( and basica((y hea(thy
'henomenon. It becomes abnorma( or unhea(thy on(y when
some.thing interferes with the giving.u' 'rocess, with the
resu(t that the de'ression is 'ro(onged and cannot be
reso(ved by com'(etion of the 'rocess.H
) (eading reason for 'eo'(e to thin% about see%ing 'sychi.
atric attention is de'ression. In other words, 'atients are fre.
>uent(y a(ready invo(ved in a giving.u', or growth, 'rocess
before considering 'sychothera'y, and it is the sym'toms of
this growth 'rocess that im'e( them toward the thera'ist"s
office. The thera'ist"s 8ob, therefore, is to he(' the 'atient
com'(ete a growth 'rocess that he or she has a(ready begun.
This is not to say that 'atients are often aware of what is
ha''ening to them. To the contrary, they fre>uent(y desire
on(y re(ief from the sym'toms of their de'ression so that
things can be as they used to be. They do not %now that
things can no (onger be the way they used to be. 9ut the
unconscious %nows. It is 'recise(y because the unconscious
in its wisdom %nows that the way things used to be is no
(onger tenab(e or constructive that the 'rocess of growing
and giving u' is begun on an unconscious (eve( and
de'ression is e/'erienced. )s (i%e(y as not the 'atient wi((
re'ort, I have no idea why I"m de'ressed or wi(( ascribe the
de'ression to
H There are many factors that can interfere with the
giving.u' 'rocess and, therefore, 'ro(ong a norma(,
hea(thy de'ression into a chronic 'atho(ogic de'ression. Of
a(( the 'ossib(e factors, one of the most common and
'otent is a 'attern of e/'eriences in chi(dhood wherein
'arents or fate, unres'onsive to the needs of the chi(d,
too% away things from the chi(d before he or she was
'sycho(ogica((y ready to give them u' or strong enough to
tru(y acce't their (oss. #uch a 'attern of e/'erience in
chi(dhood sensitiFes the chi(d to the e/'erience of (oss and
creates a tendency far stronger than that found in more
fortunate individua(s to c(ing to things and see% to avoid
the 'ain of (oss or giving u'. ;or this reason, a(though a((
'atho(ogic de'ressions invo(ve some b(oc%age in the giving.
u' 'rocess, I be(ieve there is a ty'e of chronic neurotic
de'ression that has as its centra( root a traumatic in8ury to
the individua(
"
s basic ca'acity to give u' anything, and to
this subty'e of de'ression I wou(d a''(y the name giving.
The 2ealthiness o" *e.ression :1
u' neurosis.

irre(evant factors. #ince 'atients are not yet conscious(y

wi((ing or ready to recogniFe that the o(d se(f" and the way
things used to be are outdated, they are not aware that
their de'ression is signa(ing that ma8or change is re>uired
for successfu( and evo(utionary ada'tation. The fact that the
unconscious is one ste' ahead of the conscious may seem
strange to (ay readers: it is, however, a fact that a''(ies not
on(y in this s'ecific instance but so genera((y that it is a
basic 'rinci'a( of menta( functioning. It wi(( be discussed in
greater de'th in the conc(uding section of this wor%.
Recent(y we have been hearing of the mid.(ife crisis. )c.
tua((y, this is but one of many crises, or critica( stages of
deve(o'ment, in (ife, as 6ri% 6ri%son taught us thirty years
ago. 46ri%son de(ineated eight crises: 'erha's there are
more.5 <hat ma%es crises of these transition 'eriods in the
(ife cyc(e . t ha t is, 'rob(ematic and 'ainfu(.is that in
successfu((y wor%ing our way through them we must give u'
cherished notions and o(d ways of doing and (oo%ing at
things. !any 'eo'(e are either unwi((ing or unab(e to suffer
the 'ain of giving u' the outgrown which needs to be
forsa%en. Conse>uent(y they c(ing, often forever, to their o(d
'atterns of thin%ing and behaving, thus fai(ing to negotiate
any crisis, to tru(y grow u', and to e/'erience the 8oyfu(
sense of rebirth that accom'anies the successfu( transition
into greater maturity. )(though an entire boo% cou(d be
written about each one, (et me sim'(y (ist, rough(y in order
of their occurrence, some of the ma8or conditions, desires
and attitudes that must be given u' in the course of a
who((y successfu( evo(ving (ifetime0
The state of infancy, in which no e/terna( demands
need be res'onded to
The fantasy of omni'otence
The desire for tota( 4inc(uding se/ua(5 'ossession of one"s
'arent4s5
The de'endency of chi(dhood
Distorted images of one"s 'arents
The 2ealthiness o" *e.ression :#
The omni'otentia(ity of ado(escence
The freedom of uncommitment
The agi(ity of youth
The se/ua( attractiveness andNor 'otency of
youth The fantasy of immorta(ity
)uthority over one"s chi(dren
Darious forms of tem'ora( 'ower
The inde'endence of 'hysica( hea(th
)nd, u(timate(y, the se(f and (ife itse(f.
Renunciation and Re$irth
In regard to the (ast of the above, it may seem to many
that the u(timate re>uirement.to give u' one"s se(f and
one"s (ife .re'resents a %ind of crue(ty on the 'art of =od or
fate, which ma%es our e/istence a sort of bad 8o%e and
which can never be com'(ete(y acce'ted. This attitude is
'articu(ar(y true in 'resent.day <estern cu(ture, in which
the se(f is he(d sacred and death is considered an
uns'ea%ab(e insu(t. 7et the e/act o''osite is the rea(ity. It is
in the giving u' of se(f that human beings can find the most
ecstatic and (asting, so(id, durab(e 8oy of (ife. )nd it is death
that 'rovides (ife with a(( its meaning. This secret is the
centra( wisdom of re(igion.
The 'rocess of giving u' the se(f 4which is re(ated to the
'henomenon of (ove, as wi(( be discussed in the ne/t section
of this boo%5 is for most of us a gradua( 'rocess which we
get into by a series of fits and starts. One form of tem'orary
giving u' of the se(f deserves s'ecia( mention because its
'ractice is an abso(ute re>uirement for significant (earning
during adu(thood, and therefore for significant growth of the
human s'irit. I am referring to a subty'e of the disci'(ine of
ba(anc.
?= DI#CI$?IN6
ing which I ca(( brac%eting. 9rac%eting is essentia((y the
act of ba(ancing the need for stabi(ity and assertion of
the se(f with the need for new %now(edge and greater
understanding by tem'orari(y giving u' one"s se( f .
'utti ng one"s se(f aside, so to s'ea%. so as to ma%e
room for the incor'oration of new materia( into the se(f.
This disci'(ine has been we(( described by the theo(ogian
#am Eeen in To a *ancing (od3
The second ste' re>uires that I go beyond the
idiosyncratic and egocentric 'erce'tion of immediate
e/'erience. !ature awareness is 'ossib(e on(y when I
have digested and com'ensated for the biases and
're8udices that are the residue of my 'ersona(
history. )wareness of what 'resents itse(f to me
invo(ves a doub(e movement of attention0 si(encing
the fami(iar and we(coming the strange. 6ach time I
a''roach a strange ob8ect, 'erson, or event, I have
a tendency to (et my 'resent needs, 'ast e/'erience,
or e/'ectations for the future determine what I wi((
see. If I am to a''reciate the uni>ueness of any
datum, I must be sufficient(y aware of my
'reconceived ideas and characteristic emotiona(
distortions to brac%et them (ong enough to we( come
strangeness and nove(ty into my 'erce'tua( wor(d.
This disci'(ine of brac%eting, com'ensating, or
si(encing re>uires so'histicated se(f.%now(edge and
courageous honesty. 7et, without this disci'(ine
each 'resent moment is on(y the re'etition of
something a(ready seen or e/'erienced. In order for
genuine nove(ty to emerge, for the uni>ue 'resence
of things, 'ersons, or events to ta%e root in me, I
must undergo a decentra(iFation of the ego. H
The disci'(ine of brac%eting i((ustrates the most
conse>uentia( fact of giving u' and of disci'(ine in
genera(0 name(y, that for a(( that is given u' even more
is gained. #e(f.disci'(ine is a se(f.en(arging 'rocess. The
'ain of giving u' is the 'ain of death, but death of the
o(d is birth of the new. The 'ain of death is the 'ain of
birth, and the 'ain of birth is the 'ain of death. ;or us to
deve(o' a new and better idea, conce't,
Renunciation and Re$irth :5
H New 7or%0 Har'er L Row, *+,3, '. @-.
?> DI#CI$?IN6
theory or understanding means that an o(d idea, conce't,
theory or understanding must die. Thus, in the conc(usion of
his 'oem Gourney of the !agi, T. #. 6(iot describes the
Three <ise !en as suffering the giving u' of their 'revious
wor(d view when they embraced Christianity.
All this as a long ti%e ago, I
re%e%$er, And I ould do it again, $ut
set don This set don
This3 ere e led all that ay "or
9irth or *eath< This as a 9irth, certainly,
We had evidence and no dou$t. I had seen $irth and
death,
9ut had thought they ere derent= this 9irth as
2ard and $itter agony "or us, li'e *eath, our death.
We returned to our .laces, these >ingdo%s,
9ut no longer at ease here, in the old dis.ensation,
With an alien .eo.le clutching their
gods. I should $e glad o" another death.
&
#ince birth and death seem to be but different sides of the
same coin, it is rea((y not at a(( unreasonab(e to 'ay c(oser
heed than we usua((y do in the <est to the conce't of
reincarnation. 9ut whether or not we are wi((ing to entertain
serious(y the 'ossibi(ity of some %ind of rebirth occurring
simu(taneous(y with our 'hysica( death, it is abundant(y
c(ear that this (ifetime is a series of simu(taneous deaths
and births. Throughout the who(e of (ife one must continue
to (earn to (ive, said #eneca two mi((ennia ago, and what
wi(( amaFe you even more, throughout (ife one must (earn to
die. t It is a(so c(ear that the farther one trave(s on the
8ourney of (ife, the more births one wi(( e/'erience, and
therefore the more deaths.the more 8oy and the more 'ain.
& The Complete Poems and Plays, 16;6-165; 4New
7or%0 Harcourt 9race, *+2@5, '. C+.
t Muoted in 6rich ;romm, The +ane +ociety 4New 7or%0
Rinehart, *+225.
Renunciation and Re$irth :7
This raises the >uestion of whether it is ever 'ossib(e to
become free from emotiona( 'ain in this (ife. Or, 'utting it
more mi(d(y, is it 'ossib(e to s'iritua((y evo(ve to a (eve( of
consciousness at which the 'ain of (iving is at (east dimin.
ished& The answer is yes and no. The answer is yes,
because once suffering is com'(ete(y acce'ted, it ceases in
a sense to be suffering. It is a(so yes because the unceasing
'ractice of disci'(ine (eads to mastery, and the s'iritua((y
evo(ved 'erson is masterfu( in the same sense that the adu(t
is masterfu( in re(ation to the chi(d. !atters that 'resent
great 'rob(ems for the chi(d and cause it great 'ain may be
of no conse>uence to the adu(t at a((. ;ina((y, the answer is
yes because the s'iritua((y evo(ved individua( is, as wi(( be
e(aborated in the ne/t section, an e/traordinari(y (oving
individua(, and with his or her e/traordinary (ove comes
e/traordinary 8oy.
The answer is no, however, because there is a vacuum of
com'etence in the wor(d which must be fi((ed. In a wor(d
crying out in des'erate need for com'etence, an
e/traordinari(y com'etent and (oving 'erson can no more
withho(d his or her com'etence than such a 'erson cou(d
deny food to a hungry infant. #'iritua((y evo(ved 'eo'(e, by
virtue of their disci'(ine, mastery and (ove, are 'eo'(e of
e/traordinary com'etence, and in their com'etence they
are ca((ed on to serve the wor(d, and in their (ove they
answer the ca((. They are inevitab(y, therefore, 'eo'(e of
great 'ower, a(though the wor(d may genera((y beho(d them
as >uite ordinary 'eo'(e, since more often than not they wi((
e/ercise their 'ower in >uiet or even hidden ways.
Nonethe(ess, e/ercise 'ower they do, and in this e/ercise
they suffer great(y, even dreadfu((y. ;or to e/ercise 'ower is
to ma%e decisions, and the 'rocess of ma%ing decisions with
tota( awareness is often infinite(y more 'ainfu( than ma%ing
decisions with (imited or b(unted awareness 4which is the
way most decisions are made and why they are u(timate(y
'roved wrong5. Imagine two genera(s, each having to decide
whether or not to commit a division of ten thousand men to
batt(e. To one the division is but a thing, a unit of 'ersonne(,
an instrument of strategy and nothing
?? DI#CI$?IN6
more. To the other it is these things, but he is a(so aware
of each and every one of the ten thousand (ives and the
(ives of the fami(ies of each of the ten thousand. ;or
whom is the decision easier& It is easier for the genera(
who has b(unted his awareness 'recise(y because he
cannot to(erate the 'ain of a more near(y com'(ete
awareness. It may be tem'ting to say, )h, but a
s'iritua((y evo(ved man wou(d never become a genera( in
the first '(ace. 9ut the same issue is invo(ved in being a
cor'oration 'resident, a 'hysician, a teacher, a 'arent.
Decisions affecting the (ives of others must a(ways be
made. The best decision.ma%ers are those who are wi((ing
to suffer the most over their decisions but sti(( retain their
abi(ity to be decisive. One measure.and 'erha's the best
measure.of a 'erson"s greatness is the ca'acity for
suffering. 7et the great are a(so 8oyfu(. This, then, is the
'arado/. 9uddhists tend to ignore the 9uddha
"
s suffering
and Christians forget Christ"s 8oy. 9uddha and Christ were
not different men. The suffering of Christ (etting go on the
cross and the 8oy of 9uddha (etting go under the bo tree
are one.
#o if your goa( is to avoid 'ain and esca'e suffering, I
wou(d not advise you to see% higher (eve(s of
consciousness or s'iritua( evo(ution. ;irst, you cannot
achieve them without suffering, and second, insofar as
you do achieve them, you are (i%e(y to be ca((ed on to
serve in ways more 'ainfu( to you, or at (east demanding
of you, than you can now imagine. Then why desire to
evo(ve at a((, you may as%. If you as% this >uestion,
'erha's you do not %now enough of 8oy. $erha's you may
find an answer in the remainder of this boo%: 'erha's you
wi(( not.
) fina( word on the disci'(ine of ba(ancing and its
essence of giving u'0 you must have something in order
to give it u'. 7ou cannot give u' anything you have not
a(ready gotten. If you give u' winning without ever having
won, you are where you were at the beginning0 a (oser.
7ou must forge for your.se(f an identity before you can
give it u'. 7ou must deve(o' an ego before you can (ose
it. This may seem incredib(y e(ementary, but I thin% it is
necessary to say it, since there are
Renunciation and Re$irth :6
many 'eo'(e I %now who 'ossess a vision of evo(ution
yet seem to (ac% the wi(( for it. They want, and be(ieve it
is 'ossib(e, to s%i' over the disci'(ine, to find an easy
short.cut to sainthood. Often they attem't to attain it
by sim'(y imitating the su'erficia(ities of saints, retiring
to the desert or ta%ing u' car'entry. #ome even be(ieve
that by such imitation they have rea((y become saints
and 'ro'hets, and are unab(e to ac%now(edge that they
are sti(( chi(dren and face the 'ainfu( fact that they
must start at the beginning and go through the midd(e.
Disci'(ine has been defined as a system of techni>ues
of dea(ing constructive(y with the 'ain of 'rob(em.
so(ving.instead of avoiding that 'ai n. i n such a way
that a(( of (ife"s 'rob(ems can be so(ved. ;our basic
techni>ues have been distinguished and e(aborated0
de(aying gratification, assum'tion of res'onsibi(ity,
dedication to the truth or rea(ity, and ba( ancing.
Disci'(ine is a syste% of techni>ues, because these
techni>ues are very much interre(ated. In a sing(e act
one may uti(iFe two, three or even a(( of the techni>ues
at the same time and in such a way that they may be
distinguishab(e from each other. The strength, energy
and wi((ingness to use these techni>ues are 'rovided by
(ove, as wi(( be e(aborated in the ne/t section. This
ana(ysis of disci'(ine has not been intended to be
e/haustive, and it is 'ossib(e that I have neg(ected one
or more additiona( basic techni>ues, a(though I sus'ect
not. It is a(so reasonab(e to as% whether such 'rocesses
as biofeedbac%, meditation, yoga, and 'sychothera'y
itse(f are not techni>ues of disci'(ine, but to this I wou(d
re'(y that, to my way of thin%ing, they are technica(
aids rather than basic tech.ni>ues. )s such they may be
very usefu( but are not essentia(. On the other hand,
the basic techni>ues herein described, if 'racticed
B< DI#CI$?IN6
unceasing(y and genuine(y, are a(one sufficient to
enab(e the 'ractitioner of disci'(ine, or disci'(e, to
evo(ve to s'iritua((y higher (eve(s.
#6CTI ON I I
Love
Love *e"ined
Disci'(ine, it has been suggested, is the means of human
s'iritua( evo(ution. This section wi(( e/amine what (ies in bac%
of disci'(ine.what 'rovides the motive, the energy for disci.
'(ine. This force I be(ieve to be (ove. I am very conscious of
the fact that in attem'ting to e/amine (ove we wi(( be begin.
ning to toy with mystery. In a very rea( sense we wi(( be
attem'ting to e/amine the une/aminab(e and to %now the
un%nowab(e. ?ove is too (arge, too dee' ever to be tru(y
understood or measured or (imited within the framewor% of
words. I wou(d not write this if I did not be(ieve the attem't to
have va(ue, but no matter how va(uab(e, I begin with the
certain %now(edge that the attem't wi(( be in some ways in.
ade>uate.
One resu(t of the mysterious nature of (ove is that no one
has ever, to my %now(edge, arrived at a tru(y satisfactory
definition of (ove. In an effort to e/'(ain it, therefore, (ove has
been divided into various categories0 eros, 'hi(ia, aga'e: 'er.
fect (ove and im'erfect (ove, and so on. I am 'resuming,
however, to give a sing(e definition of (ove, again with the
awareness that it is (i%e(y to be in some way or ways inade.
>uate. I define (ove thus0 The wi(( to e/tend one
"
s se(f for the
'ur'ose of nurturing one"s own or another"s s'iritua( growth.
)t the outset I wou(d (i%e to comment brief(y on this defi.
nition before 'roceeding to a more thorough e(aboration.
;irst, it may be noticed that it is a te(eo(ogica( definition: the
behavior is defined in terms of the goa( or 'ur'ose it seems
to
serve.in this case, s'iritua( growth. #cientists tend to ho(d
te(eo(ogica( definitions sus'ect, and 'erha's they wi(( this
one. I did not arrive at it, however, through a c(ear(y
te(eo(ogica( 'rocess of thin%ing. Instead I arrived at it
through observation in my c(inica( 'ractice of 'sychiatry
4which inc(udes se(f.observation5, in which the definition of
(ove is a matter of considerab(e im'ort. This is because
'atients are genera((y very confused as to the nature of
(ove. ;or instance, a timid young man re'orted to me0 !y
mother (oved me so much she wou(dn"t (et me ta%e the
schoo( bus to schoo( unti( my senior year in high schoo(.
6ven then I had to beg her to (et me go. I guess she was
afraid that I wou(d get hurt, so she drove me to and from
schoo( every day, which was very hard on her. #he rea((y
(oved me. In the treatment of this individua("s timidity it
was necessary, as it is in many other cases, to teach him
that his mother might have been motivated by something
other than (ove, and that what seems to be (ove is often not
(ove at a((. It has been out of such e/'erience that I
accumu(ated a body of e/am'(es of what seemed to be acts
of (ove and what seemed not to be (ove. One of the ma8or
distinguishing features between the two seemed to be the
conscious or unconscious 'ur'ose in the mind of the (over or
non(over.
#econd, it may be noticed that, as defined, (ove is a
strange(y circu(ar 'rocess. ;or the 'rocess of e/tending
one"s se(f is an evo(utionary 'rocess. <hen one has
successfu((y e/tended one"s (imits, one has then grown into
a (arger state of being. Thus the act of (oving is an act of se(f.
evo(ution even when the 'ur'ose of the act is someone
e(se"s growth. It is through reaching toward evo(ution that
we evo(ve.
Third, this unitary definition of (ove inc(udes se(f.(ove with
(ove for the other. #ince I am human and you are human, to
(ove humans means to (ove myse(f as we(( as you. To be
dedicated to human s'iritua( deve(o'ment is to be
dedicated to the race of which we are a 'art, and this
therefore means dedication to our own deve(o'ment as we((
as theirs. In.deed, as has been 'ointed out, we are
inca'ab(e of (oving another un(ess we (ove ourse(ves, 8ust as
we are inca'ab(e of
?@ ?OD6
Love *e"ined -A
teaching our chi(dren se(f.disci'(ine un(ess we ourse(ves are
se(f.disci'(ined. It is actua((y im'ossib(e to forsa%e our own
s'iritua( deve(o'ment in favor of someone e(se"s. <e cannot
forsa%e se(f.disci'(ine and at the same time be disci'(ined in
our care for another. <e cannot be a source of strength un(ess
we nurture our own strength. )s we 'roceed in our e/'(ora.
tion of the nature of (ove, I be(ieve it wi(( become c(ear that
not on(y do se(f.(ove and (ove of others go hand in hand but
that u(timate(y they are indistinguishab(e.
;ourth, the act of e/tending one"s (imits im'(ies effort. One
e/tends one"s (imits on(y by e/ceeding them, and e/ceeding
(imits re>uires effort. <hen we (ove someone our (ove be.
comes demonstrab(e or rea( on(y through our e/ertion.
through the fact that for that someone 4or for ourse(f5 we ta%e
an e/tra ste' or wa(% an e/tra mi(e. ?ove is not effort(ess. To
the contrary, (ove is effortfu(.
;ina((y, by use of the word wi(( I have attem'ted to
transcend the distinction between desire and action. Desire is
not necessari(y trans(ated into action. <i(( is desire of suffi.
cient intensity that it is trans(ated into action. The difference
between the two is e>ua( to the difference between saying I
wou(d (i%e to go swimming tonight and I wi(( go swimming
tonight. 6veryone in our cu(ture desires to some e/tent to be
(oving, yet many are not in fact (oving. I therefore conc(ude
that the desire to (ove is not itse(f (ove. ?ove is as (ove does.
?ove is an act of wi((.name(y, both an intention and an action.
<i(( a(so im'(ies choice. <e do not have to (ove. <e choose to
(ove. No matter how much we may thin% we are (oving, if we
are in fact not (oving, it is because we have chosen not to (ove
and therefore do not (ove des'ite our good intentions. On the
other hand, whenever we do actua((y e/ert ourse(ves in the
cause of s'iritua( growth, it is because we have chosen to do
so. The choice to (ove has been made.
)s I indicated, 'atients who come to 'sychothera'y are
invariab(y found to be more or (ess confused about the nature
of (ove. This is because in the face of the mystery of (ove
misconce'tions about it abound. <hi(e this boo% wi(( not
?A ?OD6
remove from (ove its mystery, I ho'e it wi(( c(arify matters
sufficient(y to he(' do away with these misconce'tions, which
cause suffering not on(y to 'atients but to a(( 'eo'(e as they
attem't to ma%e sense out of their own e/'eriences. #ome
of this suffering seems to me unnecessary, since these
'o'u(ar misconce'tions cou(d be made (ess 'o'u(ar through
the teaching of a more 'recise definition of (ove. I have
therefore chosen to begin e/'(oring the nature of (ove by
e/amining what (ove is not.
,alling in ?Love?
Of a(( the misconce'tions about (ove the most 'owerfu(
and 'ervasive is the be(ief that fa((ing in (ove is (ove or at
(east one of the manifestations of (ove. It is a 'otent
misconce'tion, because fa((ing in (ove is sub8ective(y
e/'erienced in a very 'owerfu( fashion as an e/'erience of
(ove. <hen a 'erson fa((s in (ove what he or she certain(y
fee(s is I (ove him or I (ove her. 9ut two 'rob(ems are
immediate(y a''arent. The first is that the e/'erience of
fa((ing in (ove is s'ecifica((y a se/.(in%ed erotic e/'erience.
<e do not fa(( in (ove with our chi(dren even though we %ay
(ove them very dee'(y. <e do not fa(( in (ove with our
friends of the same se/.un(ess we are homose/ua((y
oriented.even though we may care for them great(y. <e fa((
in (ove on(y when we are conscious(y or unconscious(y
se/ua((y motivated. The second 'rob(em is that the
e/'erience of fa((ing in (ove is invariab(y tem'orary. No
matter whom we fa(( in (ove with, we sooner or (ater fa(( out
of (ove if the re(ationshi' continues (ong enough. This is not
to say that we invariab(y cease (oving the 'erson with whom
we fe(( in (ove. 9ut it is to say that the fee(ing of ecstatic
(ovingness that characteriFes the e/'erience of fa((ing in
(ove a(ways 'asses. The honeymoon a(ways ends. The
b(oom of romance a(ways fades.
To understand the nature of the 'henomenon of fa((ing in
(ove and the inevitabi(ity of its ending, it is necessary to e/.
amine the nature of what 'sychiatrists ca(( ego boundaries.
;rom what we can ascertain by indirect evidence, it a''ears
that the newborn infant during the first few months of its (ife
does not distinguish between itse(f and the rest of the uni.
verse. <hen it moves its arms and (egs, the wor(d is
moving. <hen it is hungry, the wor(d is hungry. <hen it
sees its mother move, it is as if it is moving. <hen its
mother sings, the baby does not %now that it is itse(f not
ma%ing the sound. It cannot distinguish itse(f from the crib,
the room and its 'arents. The animate and the inanimate
are the same. There is no distinction yet between I and
thou. It and the wor(d are one. There are no boundaries, no
se'arations. There is no identity.
9ut with e/'erience the chi(d begins to e/'erience itse(f.
name(y, as an entity se'arate from the rest of the wor(d.
<hen it is hungry, mother doesn"t a(ways a''ear to feed it.
<hen it is '(ayfu(, mother doesn"t a(ways want to '(ay. The
chi(d then has the e/'erience of its wishes not being its
mother"s command. Its wi(( is e/'erienced as something
se'arate from its mother"s behavior. ) sense of the me
begins to deve(o'. This interaction between the infant and
the mother is be(ieved to be the ground out of which the
chi(d"s sense of identity begins to grow. It has been
observed that when the interaction between the infant and
its mother is gross(y disturbed.for e/am'(e, when there is
no mother, no satisfactory mother substitute or when
because of her own menta( i((ness the mother is tota((y
uncaring or uninterested.then the infant grows into a chi(d
or adu(t whose sense of identity is gross(y defective in the
most basic ways.
?: ?OD6
)s the infant recogniFes its wi(( to be its own and not that
of the universe, it begins to ma%e other distinctions
between itse(f and the wor(d. <hen it wi((s movement, its
arm waves
,alling in ?Love?
before its eyes, but neither the crib nor the cei(ing move.
Thus the chi(d (earns that its arm and its wi(( are connected,
and therefore that its arm is its and not something or someone
e(se"s. In this manner, during the first year of (ife, we (earn
the fundamenta(s of who we are and who we are not, what
we are and what we are not. 9y the end of our first year we
%now that this is my arm, my foot, my head, my tongue, my
eyes and even my view'oint, my voice, my thoughts, my
stomachache, and my fee(ings. <e %now our siFe and our
'hysica( (imits. These (imits are our boundaries. The %now(.
edge of these (imits inside our minds is what is meant by ego
boundaries.
The deve(o'ment of ego boundaries is a 'rocess that
continues through chi(dhood into ado(escence and even into
adu(t.hood, but the boundaries estab(ished (ater are more
'sychic than 'hysica(. ;or instance, the age between two and
three is ty'ica((y a time when the chi(d comes to terms with
the (imits of its 'ower. <hi(e before this time the chi(d has
(earned that its wish is not necessari(y its mother
"
s command,
it sti(( c(ings to the 'ossibi(ity that its wish might be its
mother"s command and the fee(ing that its wish shou(d be her
command. It is because of this ho'e and fee(ing that the two.
year.o(d usua((y attem'ts to act (i%e a tyrant and autocrat,
trying to give orders to its 'arents, sib(ings and fami(y 'ets as
if they were menia(s in its own 'rivate army, and res'onds
with rega( fury when they won"t be dictated to. Thus 'arents
s'ea% of this age as the terrib(e twos. 9y the age of three
the chi(d has usua((y become more tractab(e and me((ow as a
resu(t of an acce'tance of the rea(ity of its own re(ative
'ower(essness. #ti((, the 'ossibi(ity of omni'otence is such a
sweet, sweet dream that it cannot be com'(ete(y given u'
even after severa( years of very 'ainfu( confrontation with
one
"
s own im'otence. )(though the chi(d of three has come to
acce't the rea(ity of the boundaries of its 'ower, it wi((
continue to esca'e occasiona((y for some years to come into
a wor(d of fantasy in which the 'ossibi(ity of omni'otence
?B ?OD6
4'articu(ar(y its own5 sti(( e/ists. This is the wor(d of
#u'erman and Ca'tain !arve(. 7et grad.
,alling in ?Love?
ua((y even the su'erheroes are given u', and by the time of
mid.ado(escence, young 'eo'(e %now that they are individ.
ua(s, confined to the boundaries of their f(esh and the (imits
of their 'ower, each one a re(ative(y frai( and im'otent
organ.ism, e/isting on(y by coo'eration within a grou' of
fe((ow organisms ca((ed society. <ithin this grou' they are
not 'articu(ar(y distinguished, yet they are iso(ated from
others by their individua( identities, boundaries and (imits.
It is (one(y behind these boundaries. #ome 'eo'(e.'artic.
u(ar(y those whom 'sychiatrists ca(( schiFoid.because of un.
'(easant, traumatiFing e/'eriences in chi(dhood, 'erceive
the wor(d outside of themse(ves as unredeemab(y
dangerous, hosti(e, confusing and unnurturing. #uch 'eo'(e
fee( their boundaries to be 'rotecting and comforting and
find a sense of safety in their (one(iness. 9ut most of us fee(
our (one(iness to be 'ainfu( and yearn to esca'e from behind
the wa((s of our individua( identities to a condition in which
we can be more unified with the wor(d outside of ourse(ves.
The e/'erience of fa((ing in (ove a((ows us this esca'e.
tem'orari(y. The essence of the 'henomenon of fa((ing in
(ove is a sudden co((a'se of a section of an individua("s ego
boundaries, 'ermitting one to merge his or her identity with
that of another 'erson. The sudden re(ease of onese(f from
onese(f, the e/'(osive 'ouring out of onese(f into the
be(oved, and the dramatic surcease of (one(iness
accom'anying this co((a'se of ego boundaries is
e/'erienced by most of us as ecstatic. <e and our be(oved
are one1 ?one(iness is no more1
In some res'ects 4but certain(y not in a((5 the act of fa((ing
in (ove is an act of regression. The e/'erience of merging
with the (oved one has in it echoes from the time when we
were merged with our mothers in infancy. )(ong with the
merging we a(so ree/'erience the sense of omni'otence
which we had to give u' in our 8ourney out of chi(dhood. )((
things seem 'ossib(e1 United with our be(oved we fee( we
can con>uer a(( obstac(es. <e be(ieve that the strength of
our (ove wi(( cause the forces of o''osition to bow down in
submission and me(t away into the dar%ness. )(( 'rob(ems
wi(( be overcome. The
B9 ?OD6
future wi(( be a(( (ight. The unrea(ity of these fee(ings when
we have fa((en in (ove is essentia((y the same as the
unrea(ity of the two.year.o(d who fee(s itse(f to be %ing of
the fami(y and the wor(d with 'ower un(imited.
Gust as rea(ity intrudes u'on the two.year.o(d"s fantasy of
omni'otence so does rea(ity intrude u'on the fantastic unity
of the cou'(e who have fa((en in (ove. #ooner or (ater, in
res'onse to the 'rob(ems of dai(y (iving, individua( wi(( reas.
serts itse(f. He wants to have se/: she doesn"t. #he wants to
go to the movies: he doesn"t. He wants to 'ut money in the
ban%: she wants a dishwasher. #he wants to ta(% about her
8ob: he wants to ta(% about his. #he doesn"t (i%e his friends:
he doesn"t (i%e hers. #o both of them, in the 'rivacy of their
hearts, begin to come to the sic%ening rea(iFation that they
are not one with the be(oved, that the be(oved has and wi((
continue to have his or her own desires, tastes, 're8udices
and timing different from the other"s. One by one, gradua((y
or sudden(y, the ego boundaries sna' bac% into '(ace:
gradua((y or sudden(y, they fa(( out of (ove. Once again they
are two se'arate individua(s. )t this 'oint they begin either
to disso(ve the ties of their re(ationshi' or to initiate the
wor% of rea( (oving.
9y my use of the word rea( I am im'(ying that the 'er.
ce'tion that we are (oving when we fa(( in (ove is a fa(se
'erce'tion.that our sub8ective sense of (ovingness is an i((u.
sion. ;u(( e(aboration of rea( (ove wi(( be deferred unti( (ater
in this section. However, by stating that it is when a cou'(e
fa((s out of (ove they may begin to rea((y (ove I am a(so im'(y.
ing that rea( (ove does not have its roots in a fee(ing of (ove.
To the contrary, rea( (ove often occurs in a conte/t in which
the fee(ing of (ove is (ac%ing, when we act (oving(y des'ite
the fact that we don"t fee( (oving. )ssuming the rea(ity of
the definition of (ove with which we started, the e/'erience
of fa((ing in (ove is not rea( (ove for the severa( reasons
that fo((ow.
;a((ing in (ove is not an act of wi((. It is not a conscious
choice. No matter how o'en to or eager for it we may be,
the
,alling in ?Love?
e/'erience may sti(( e(ude us. Contrari(y, the e/'erience
may ca'ture us at times when we are definite(y not
see%ing it, when it is inconvenient and undesirab(e. <e are
as (i%e(y to fa(( in (ove with someone with whom we are
obvious(y i(( matched as with someone more suitab(e.
Indeed, we may not even (i%e or admire the ob8ect of our
'assion, yet, try as we might, we may not be ab(e to fa(( in
(ove with a 'erson whom we dee'(y res'ect and with
whom a dee' re(ationshi' wou(d be in a(( ways desirab(e.
This is not to say that the e/'erience of fa((ing in (ove is
immune to disci'(ine. $sychiatrists, for instance,
fre>uent(y fa(( in (ove with their 'atients, 8ust as their
'atients fa(( in (ove with them, yet out of duty to the
'atient and their ro(e they are usua((y ab(e to abort the
co((a'se of their ego boundaries and give u' the 'atient as
a romantic ob8ect. The strugg(e and suffering of the
disci'(ine invo(ved may be enormous. 9ut disci'(ine and
wi(( can on(y contro( the e/'erience: they cannot create it.
<e can choose how to res'ond to the e/'erience of fa((ing
in (ove, but we cannot choose the e/'erience itse(f.
;a((ing in (ove is not an e/tension of one"s (imits or
boundaries: it is a 'artia( and tem'orary co((a'se of them.
The e/.tension of one"s (imits re>uires effort: fa((ing in (ove
is effort(ess. ?aFy and undisci'(ined individua(s are as
(i%e(y to fa(( in (ove as energetic and dedicated ones. Once
the 'recious moment of fa((ing in (ove has 'assed and the
boundaries have sna''ed bac% into '(ace, the individua(
may be disi((usioned, but is usua((y none the (arger for the
e/'erience. <hen (imits are e/tended or stretched,
however, they tend to stay stretched. Rea( (ove is a
'ermanent(y se(f.en(arging e/'erience. ;a((ing in (ove is
not.
;a((ing in (ove has (itt(e to do with 'ur'osive(y nurturing
one"s s'iritua( deve(o'ment. If we have any 'ur'ose in
mind when we fa(( in (ove it is to terminate our own
(one(iness and 'erha's insure this resu(t through marriage.
Certain(y we are not thin%ing of s'iritua( deve(o'ment.
Indeed, after we have fa((en in (ove and before we have
fa((en out of (ove again we fee( that we have arrived, that
the heights have been attained,
that there is both no need and no 'ossibi(ity of going higher.
<e do not fee( ourse(ves to be in any need of deve(o'ment:
we are tota((y content to be where we are. Our s'irit is at
'eace. Nor do we 'erceive our be(oved as being in need of
s'iritua( deve(o'ment. To the contrary, we 'erceive him or
her as 'erfect, as having been 'erfected. If we see any fau(ts
in our be(oved, we 'erceive them as insignificant.(itt(e >uir%s
or dar(ing eccentricities that on(y add co(or and charm.
If fa((ing in (ove is not (ove, then what is it other than a
tem'orary and 'artia( co((a'se of ego boundaries& I do not
%now. 9ut the se/ua( s'ecificity of the 'henomenon (eads me
to sus'ect that it is a genetica((y determined instinctua( com.
'onent of mating behavior. In other words, the tem'orary
co((a'se of ego boundaries that constitutes fa((ing in (ove is a
stereoty'ic res'onse of human beings to a configuration of
interna( se/ua( drives and e/terna( se/ua( stimu(i, which
serves to increase the 'robabi(ity of se/ua( 'airing and bond.
ing so as to enhance the surviva( of the s'ecies. Or to 'ut it in
another, rather crass way, fa((ing in (ove is a tric% that our
genes 'u(( on our otherwise 'erce'tive mind to hoodwin% or
tra' us into marriage. ;re>uent(y the tric% goes awry one way
or another, as when the se/ua( drives and stimu(i are homo.
se/ua( or when other forces.'arenta( interference, menta(
i((ness, conf(icting res'onsibi(ities or mature se(f.disci'(ine.
su'ervene to 'revent the bonding. On the other hand, with.
out this tric%, this i((usory and inevitab(y tem'orary 4it wou(d
not be 'ractica( were it not tem'orary5 regression to infanti(e
merging and omni'otence, many of us who are ha''i(y or
unha''i(y married today wou(d have retreated in who(e.
B= LOVE
hearted terror from the rea(ism of the marriage vows.
BA LOVE
The 5yth o" Ro%antic Love
To serve as effective(y as it does to tra' us into marriage,
the e/'erience of fa((ing in (ove 'robab(y must have as one of
its characteristics the i((usion that the e/'erience wi(( (ast for.
ever. This i((usion is fostered in our cu(ture by the common(y
he(d myth of romantic (ove, which has its origins in our favor.
ite chi(dhood fairy ta(es, wherein the 'rince and 'rincess,
once united, (ive ha''i(y forever after. The myth of romantic
(ove te((s us, in effect, that for every young man in the wor(d
there is a young woman who was meant for him, and vice
versa. !oreover, the myth im'(ies that there is on(y one man
meant for a woman and on(y one woman for a man and this
has been 'redetermined in the stars. <hen we meet the
'erson for whom we are intended, recognition comes through
the fact that we fa(( in (ove. <e have met the 'erson for
whom a(( the heavens intended us, and since the match is
'erfect, we wi(( then be ab(e to satisfy a(( of each other"s
needs forever and ever, and therefore (ive ha''i(y forever
after in 'erfect union and harmony. #hou(d it come to 'ass,
however, that we do not satisfy or meet a(( of each other"s
needs and friction arises and we fa(( out of (ove, then it is
c(ear that a dreadfu( mista%e was made, we misread the
stars, we did not hoo% u' with our one and on(y 'erfect
match, what we thought was (ove was not rea( or true (ove,
and nothing can be done about the situation e/ce't to (ive
unha''i(y ever after or get divorced.
<hi(e I genera((y find that great myths are great 'recise(y
because they re'resent and embody great universa( truths
The 5yth o" Ro%antic Love 67
4and wi(( e/'(ore severa( such myths (ater in this boo%5, the
B: LOVE
myth of romantic (ove is a dreadfu( (ie. $erha's it is a
necessary (ie in that it ensures the surviva( of the s'ecies
by its encouragement and seeming va(idation of the
fa((ing.in.(ove e/'erience that tra's us into marriage. 9ut
as a 'sychiatrist I wee' in my heart a(most dai(y for the
ghast(y confusion and suffering that this myth fosters.
!i((ions of 'eo'(e waste vast amounts of energy
des'erate(y and futi(e(y attem'ting to ma%e the rea(ity of
their (ives conform to the unrea(ity of the myth. !rs. ).
sub8ugates herse(f absurd(y to her husband out of a
fee(ing of gui(t. I didn"t rea((y (ove my husband when we
married, she says. I 'retended I did. I guess I tric%ed
him into it, "so I have no right to com'(ain about him, and
I owe it to him to do whatever he wants. !r. 9. (aments0
I regret I didn"t marry !iss C. I thin% we cou(d have had a
good marriage. 9ut I didn"t fee( head over hee(s in (ove
with her, so I assumed she cou(dn"t be the right 'erson
for me. !rs. D., married for two years, becomes severe(y
de'ressed without a''arent cause, and enters thera'y
stating0 I don"t %now what"s wrong. I"ve got everything I
need, inc(uding a 'erfect marriage. On(y months (ater
can she acce't the fact that she has fa((en out of (ove
with her husband but that this does not mean that she
made a horrib(e mista%e. !r. 6., a(so married two years,
begins to suffer intense headaches in the evenings and
can"t be(ieve they are 'sychosomatic. !y home (ife is
fine. I (ove my wife as much as the day I married her.
#he"s everything I ever wanted, he says. 9ut his
headaches don"t (eave him unti( a year (ater, when he is
ab(e to admit, #he bugs the he(( out of me the way she is
a(ways wanting, wanting, wanting things without regard
to my sa(ary, and then is ab(e to confront her with her
e/travagance. !r. and !rs. ;. ac%now(edge to each other
that they have fa((en out of (ove and then 'roceed to
ma%e each other miserab(e by mutua( ram'ant infide(ity
as they each search for the one true (ove, not rea(iFing
that their very ac%now(edgment cou(d mar% the beginning
of the wor% of their marriage in.stead of its end. 6ven
when cou'(es have ac%now(edged that the honeymoon is
over, that they are no (onger romantica((y
The 5yth o" Ro%antic Love 6:
in (ove with each other and are ab(e sti(( to be committed to
their re(ationshi', they sti(( c(ing to the myth and attem't to
conform their (ives to it. 6ven though we have fa((en out of
(ove, if we act by sheer wi(( 'ower as if we sti(( were in (ove,
then maybe romantic (ove wi(( return to our (ives, their
thin%ing goes. These cou'(es 'riFe togetherness. <hen they
enter cou'(es grou' thera'y 4which is the setting in which my
wife and I and our c(ose co((eagues conduct most serious
marriage counse(ing5, they sit together, s'ea% for each
other, de.fend each other"s fau(ts and see% to 'resent to the
rest of the grou' a united front, be(ieving this unity to be a
sign of the re(ative hea(th of their marriage and a
'rere>uisite for its im'rovement. #ooner or (ater, and
usua((y sooner, we must te(( most cou'(es that they are too
much married, too c(ose(y cou'(ed, and that they need to
estab(ish some 'sycho(ogica( distance from each other
before they can even begin to wor% constructive(y on their
'rob(ems. #ometimes it is actua((y necessary to 'hysica((y
se'arate them, directing them to sit a'art from each other
in the grou' circ(e. It is a(ways necessary to as% them to
refrain from s'ea%ing for each other or defending each
other against the grou'. Over and over again we must say,
?et !ary s'ea% for herse(f, Gohn, and Gohn can defend
himse(f, !ary, he"s strong enough. U(timate(y, if they stay
in thera'y, a(( cou'(es (earn that a true acce'tance of their
own and each other"s individua(ity and se'arateness is the
on(y foundation u'on which a mature marriage can be
based and rea( (ove can grow.H
H Those who have read the O
"
Nei(s
"
boo% 4.en 5arriage
wi(( recogniFe this to be a basic tenet of the o'en as
o''osed to the c(osed marriage. The O
"
Nei(s were actua((y
remar%ab(y gent(e and restrained in their 'rose(ytiFing for
o'en marriage. !y wor% with cou'(es has (ed me to the
star% conc(usion that o'en marriage is the on(y %ind of
mature marriage that is hea(thy and not serious(y
destructive to the s'iritua( hea(th and growth of the
individua( 'artners.
BB LOVE
5ore A$out Ego 9oundaries
Having 'roc(aimed that the e/'erience of fa((ing in (ove
is a sort of i((usion which in no way constitutes rea( (ove, (et
me conc(ude by shifting into reverse and 'ointing out that
fa((ing in (ove is in fact very, very c(ose to rea( (ove. Indeed,
the misconce'tion that fa((ing in (ove is a ty'e of (ove is so
'otent 'recise(y because it contains a grain of truth.
The e/'erience of rea( (ove a(so has to do with ego bound.
aries, since it invo(ves an e/tension of one"s (imits. One"s (im.
its are one"s ego boundaries. <hen we e/tend our (imits
through (ove, we do so by reaching out, so to s'ea%, toward
the be(oved, whose growth we wish to nurture. ;or us to be
ab(e to do this, the be(oved ob8ect must first become be(oved
to us: in other words, we must be attracted toward, invested
in and committed to an ob8ect outside of ourse(ves, beyond
the boundaries of se(f. $sychiatrists ca(( this 'rocess of
attraction, investment and commitment cathe/is and say
that we cathect the be(oved ob8ect. 9ut when we cathect
an ob8ect outside of ourse(ves we a(so 'sycho(ogica((y
incor'orate a re'resentation of that ob8ect into ourse(ves.
;or e/am'(e, (et us consider a man who gardens for a hobby.
It is a satisfying and consuming hobby. He (oves gardening.
His garden means a (ot to him. This man has cathected his
garden. He finds it attractive, he has invested himse(f in it,
he is committed to it . s o much so that he may 8um' out of
bed ear(y #unday morning to get bac% to it, he may refuse to
trave( away from it, and he may even neg(ect his wife for it.
In the 'rocess of his cathe/is and in order to nurture his
f(owers and shrubs he (earns a great dea(. He comes to %now
much about gardening
9<< LOVE
. about soi(s and ferti(iFers, rooting and 'runing. )nd he
%nows his 'articu(ar garden.its history, the ty'es of f(owers
and '(ants in it, its (ayout, its 'rob(ems and even its future.
Des'ite the fact that the garden e/ists outside of him,
through his cathe/is it has a(so come to e/ist within him. His
%now(edge of it and the meaning it has for him are 'art of
him, 'art of his identity, 'art of his history, 'art of his
wisdom. 9y (oving and cathecting his garden he has in >uite
a rea( way incor'orated the garden within him, and by this
incor'oration his se(f has become en(arged and his ego
boundaries e/tended.
<hat trans'ires then in the course of many years of
(oving, of e/tending our (imits for our cathe/es, is a gradua(
but 'rogressive en(argement of the se(f, an incor'oration
within of the wor(d without, and a growth, a stretching and a
thinning of our ego boundaries. In this way the more and
(onger we e/tend ourse(ves, the more we (ove, the more
b(urred becomes the distinction between the se(f and the
wor(d. <e become identified with the wor(d. )nd as our ego
boundaries become b(urred and thinned, we begin more and
more to e/'erience the same sort of fee(ing of ecstasy that
we have when our ego boundaries 'artia((y co((a'se and we
fa(( in (ove. On(y, in.stead of having merged tem'orari(y
and unrea(istica((y with a sing(e be(oved ob8ect, we have
merged rea(istica((y and more 'ermanent(y with much of the
wor(d. ) mystica( union with the entire wor(d may be
estab(ished. The fee(ing of ecstasy or b(iss associated with
this union, whi(e 'erha's more gent(e and (ess dramatic
than that associated with fa((ing in (ove, is nonethe(ess
much more stab(e and (asting and u(timate(y satisfying. It is
the difference between the 'ea% e/'erience, ty'ified by
fa((ing in (ove, and what )braham !as(ow has referred to as
the '(ateau e/'erience. H The heights are not sudden(y
g(im'sed and (ost again: they are attained for.ever.
It is obvious and genera((y understood that se/ua( activity
& Religions, @alues, and Pea'-EA.eriences 4New
7or%0 Di%ing, *+,35, 'reface.
9<9 LOVE
and (ove, whi(e they may occur simu(taneous(y, often are
disassociated, because they are basica((y se'arate
'henomena. In itse(f, ma%ing (ove is not an act of (ove.
Nonethe(ess the e/'erience of se/ua( intercourse, and
'articu(ar(y of orgasm 4even in masturbation5, is an
e/'erience a(so associated with a greater or (esser degree of
co((a'se of ego boundaries and attendant ecstasy. It is
because of this co((a'se of ego boundaries that we may
shout at the moment of c(ima/ I (ove you or Oh, =od to a
'rostitute for whom moments (ater, after the ego boundaries
have sna''ed bac% into '(ace, we may fee( no shred of
affection, (i%ing or investment. This is not to say that the
ecstasy of the orgasmic e/'erience cannot be heightened by
sharing it with one who is be(oved: it can. 9ut even without a
be(oved 'artner or any 'artner the co((a'se of ego
boundaries occurring in con8unction with orgasm may be
tota(: for a second we may tota((y forget who we are, (ose
trac% of se(f, be (ost in time and s'ace, be outside of ourse(f,
be trans'orted. <e may become one with the universe. 9ut
on(y for a second.
In describing the 'ro(onged oneness with the universe
associated with rea( (ove as com'ared to the momentary
oneness of orgasm, I used the words mystica( union.
!ysticism is essentia((y a be(ief that rea(ity is oneness. The
most (itera( of mystics be(ieve that our common 'erce'tion of
the universe as containing mu(titudes of discrete ob8ects.
stars, '(anets, trees, birds, houses, ourse(ves.a(( se'arated
from one an.other by boundaries is a mis'erce'tion, an
i((usion. To this consensua( mis'erce'tion, this wor(d of
i((usion that most of us mista%en(y be(ieve to be rea(, Hindus
and 9uddhists a''(y the word !aya. They and other
mystics ho(d that true rea(ity can be %nown on(y by
e/'eriencing the oneness through a giving u' of ego
boundaries. It is im'ossib(e to rea((y see the unity of the
universe as (ong as one continues to see onese(f as a
discrete ob8ect, se'arate and distinguishab(e from the rest of
the universe in any way, sha'e or form. Hindus and
9uddhists fre>uent(y ho(d, therefore, that the infant before
the deve(o'ment of ego boundaries %nows rea(.
"ore About Ego #oundaries !$2
ity, whi(e adu(ts do not. #ome even suggest that the 'ath
toward en(ightenment or %now(edge of the oneness of rea(ity
re>uires that we regress or ma%e ourse(ves (i%e infants. This
can be a dangerous(y tem'ting doctrine for certain
ado(escents and young adu(ts who are not 're'ared to
assume adu(t res'onsibi(ities, which seem frightening and
overwhe(ming and demanding beyond their ca'acities. I do
not have to go through a(( this,

such a 'erson may thin%. I

can give u' trying to be an adu(t and retreat from adu(t
demands into sainthood. #chiFo'hrenia, however, rather
than sainthood, is achieved by acting on this su''osition.
!ost mystics understand the truth that was e(aborated at
the end of the discussion of disci'(ine0 name(y, that we must
'ossess or achieve something before we can give it u' and
sti(( maintain our com'etence and viabi(ity. The infant
without its ego boundaries may be in c(oser touch with rea(ity
than its 'arents, but it is inca'ab(e of surviving without the
care of these 'arents and inca'ab(e of communicating its
wisdom. The 'ath to sainthood goes through adu(thood.
There are no >uic% and easy shortcuts. 6go boundaries must
be hardened before they can be softened. )n identity must
be estab(ished before it can be transcended. One must find
one"s se(f before one can (ose it. The tem'orary re(ease from
ego boundaries associated with fa((ing in (ove, se/ua(
intercourse or the use of certain 'sychoactive drugs may
'rovide us with a g(im'se of Nirvana, but not with Nirvana
itse(f. It is a thesis of this boo% that Nirvana or (asting
en(ightenment or true s'iritua( growth can be achieved on(y
through the 'ersistent e/ercise of rea( (ove.
In summary, then, the tem'orary (oss of ego boundaries
invo(ved in fa((ing in (ove and in se/ua( intercourse not on(y
(eads us to ma%e commitments to other 'eo'(e from which
rea( (ove may begin but a(so gives us a foretaste of 4and
there.fore an incentive for5 the more (asting mystica( ecstasy
that can be ours after a (ifetime of (ove. )s such, therefore,
whi(e fa((ing in (ove is not itse(f (ove, it is a 'art of the great
and mysterious scheme of (ove.
"ore About Ego #oundaries !$%
6B ?OD6
*e.endency
The second most common misconce'tion about (ove is
the idea that de'endency is (ove. This is a misconce'tion
with which 'sychothera'ists must dea( on a dai(y basis. Its
effect is seen most dramatica((y in an individua( who ma%es
an at.tem't or gesture or threat to commit suicide or who
becomes inca'acitating(y de'ressed in res'onse to a
re8ection or se'aration from s'ouse or (over. #uch a 'erson
says, I do not want to (ive, I cannot (ive without my
husband Iwife, gir( friend, boyfriendJ, I (ove him Ior herJ so
much. )nd when I res'ond, as I fre>uent(y do, 7ou are
mista%en: you do not (ove your husband Iwife, gir( friend,
boyfriendJ. <hat do you mean& is the angry >uestion. I
8ust to(d you I can"t (ive without him Ior herJ. I try to
e/'(ain. <hat you describe is 'arasitism, not (ove. <hen
you re>uire another individua( for your surviva(, you are a
'arasite on that individua(. There is no choice, no freedom
invo(ved in your re(ationshi'. It is a matter of necessity
rather than (ove. ?ove is the free e/ercise of choice. Two
'eo'(e (ove each other on(y when they are >uite ca'ab(e of
(iving without each other but choose to (ive with each
other.
I define de'endency as the inabi(ity to e/'erience who(e.
ness or to function ade>uate(y without the certainty that
one is being active(y cared for by another. De'endency in
'hysica( hea(thy adu(ts is 'atho(ogica(.it is sic%, a(ways a
manifestation of a menta( i((ness or defect. It is to be
distinguished from what are common(y referred to as
de'endency needs or fee(ings. <e a((.each and every one of
us.even if we try to
'retend to others and to ourse(ves that we don"t.have
de'endency needs and fee(ings. )(( of us have desires to be
babied, to be nurtured without effort on our 'arts, to be
cared for by 'ersons stronger than us who have our
interests tru(y at heart. No matter how strong we are, no
matter how caring and res'onsib(e and adu(t, if we (oo%
c(ear(y into ourse(ves we wi(( find the wish to be ta%en care of
for a change. 6ach one of us, no matter how o(d and mature,
(oo%s for and wou(d (i%e to have in his or her (ife a satisfying
mother figure and father figure. 9ut for most of us these
desires or fee(ings do not ru(e our (ives: they are not the
'redominant theme of our e/istence. <hen they do ru(e our
(ives and dictate the >ua(ity of our e/istence, then we have
something more than 8ust de'endency needs or fee(ings: we
are de'endent. #'ecifica((y, one whose (ife is ru(ed and
dictated by de'endency needs suffers from a 'sychiatric
disorder to which we ascribe the diagnostic name 'assive
de'endent 'ersona(ity disorder. It is 'erha's the most
common of a(( 'sychiatric disorders.
$eo'(e with this disorder, 'assive de'endent 'eo'(e, are
so busy see%ing to be (oved that they have no energy (eft to
(ove. They are (i%e starving 'eo'(e, scrounging wherever
they can for food, and with no food of their own to give to
others. It is as if within them they have an inner em'tiness,
a bottom(ess 'it crying out to be fi((ed but which can never
be com'(ete(y fi((ed. They never fee( fu((.fi((ed or have a
sense of com'(eteness. They a(ways fee( a 'art of me is
missing. They to(erate (one(iness very 'oor(y. 9ecause of
their (ac% of who(eness they have no rea( sense of identity,
and they define themse(ves so(e(y by their re(ationshi's. )
thirty.year.o(d 'unch 'ress o'erator, e/treme(y de'ressed,
came to see me three days after his wife had (eft him,
ta%ing their two chi(dren. #he had threatened to (eave him
three times before, com'(aining of his tota( (ac% of attention
to her and the chi(dren. 6ach time he had '(eaded with her
to remain and had 'romised to change, but his change had
never (asted more than a day, and this time she had carried
out her threat. He had not s(e't for two
*e.endency
nights, was tremb(ing with an/iety, had tears streaming
down his face and was serious(y contem'(ating suicide. I
can"t (ive without my fami(y, he said, wee'ing, I (ove them
so.
I"m 'uFF(ed, I said to him. 7ou"ve to(d me that your
wife"s com'(aints were va(id, that you never did anything for
her, that you came home on(y when you '(eased, that you
weren"t interested in her se/ua((y or emotiona((y, that you
wou(dn"t even ta(% to the chi(dren for months on end, that
you never '(ayed with them or too% them anywhere. 7ou
have no re(ationshi' with any of your fami(y, so I don"t un.
derstand why you"re so de'ressed over the (oss of a
re(ation.shi' that never e/isted.
Don"t you see& he re'(ied. I"m nothing now. Nothing. I
have no wife. I have no chi(dren. I don"t %now who I am. I
may not care for them, but I must (ove them. I am nothing
without them.
9ecause he was so serious(y de'ressed.having (ost the
identity that his fami(y gave him.I made an a''ointment to
see him again two days (ater. I e/'ected (itt(e im'rovement.
9ut when he returned he bounced into the office grinning
cheerfu((y and announced, 6verything"s OE now.
Did you get bac% together with your fami(y& I as%ed.
Oh, no, he re'(ied ha''i(y, I haven"t heard from them
since I saw you. 9ut I did meet a gir( (ast night down at my
bar. #he said she rea((y (i%es me. #he"s se'arated, 8ust (i%e
me. <e"ve got a date again tonight. I fee( (i%e I"m human
once more. I guess I don"t have to see you again.
This ra'id changeabi(ity is characteristic of 'assive de'en.
dent individua(s. It is as if it does not matter whom they are
de'endent u'on as (ong as there is 8ust someone. It does
not matter what their identity is as (ong as there is someone
to give it to them. Conse>uent(y their re(ationshi's,
a(though seeming(y dramatic in their intensity, are actua((y
e/treme(y sha((ow. 9ecause of the strength of their sense of
inner em'tiness and the hunger to fi(( it, 'assive de'endent
'eo'(e wi(( broo% no de(ay in gratifying their need for others.
) beautifu(, bri((iant and in some ways very hea(thy young
woman had,
9<: ?OD6
from the age of seventeen to twenty.one, an a(most
end(ess series of se/ua( re(ationshi's with men invariab(y
beneath her in terms of inte((igence and ca'abi(ity. #he
went from one (oser to the ne/t. The 'rob(em as it emerged
was that she was unab(e to wait (ong enough to see% out a
man suited to her or even to choose from among the many
men a(most immediate(y avai(ab(e to her. <ithin twenty.four
hours after the ending of a re(ationshi' she wou(d 'ic% u'
the first man she met in a bar and wou(d come into her ne/t
thera'y session singing his 'raises. I %now he"s
unem'(oyed and drin%s too much, but basica((y he"s very
ta(ented, and he rea((y cares for me. I %now this re(ationshi'
wi(( wor%.
9ut it never did wor%, not on(y because she had not
chosen we(( but a(so because she wou(d then begin a
'attern of c(inging to the man, demanding more and more
evidence of his affection, see%ing to be with him constant(y,
refusing to be (eft a(one. It is because I (ove you so much
that I cannot bear to be se'arated from you, she wou(d te((
him, but sooner or (ater he wou(d fee( tota((y stif(ed and
tra''ed, without room to move, by her (ove. ) vio(ent
b(ow.u' wou(d occur, the re(ationshi' wou(d be terminated
and the cyc(e wou(d begin )( over again the ne/t day. The
woman was ab(e to brea% the cyc(e on(y after three years of
thera'y, during which she came to a''reciate her own
inte((igence and assets, to identify her em'tiness and
hunger and distinguish it from genuine (ove, to rea(iFe how
her hunger was driving her to initiate and c(ing to
re(ationshi's that were detrimenta( to her, and to acce't
the necessity for the strictest %ind of disci'(ine over her
hunger if she was to ca'ita(iFe on her assets.
In the diagnosis the word 'assive is used in con8unction
with the word de'endent because these individua(s
concern themse(ves with what others can do for them to the
e/c(usion of what they themse(ves can do. Once, wor%ing
with a grou' of five sing(e 'atients, a(( 'assive de'endent
'eo'(e, I as%ed them to s'ea% of their goa(s in terms of
what (ife situations they wanted to find themse(ves in five
years hence. In one way or another each of them re'(ied, I
want to be married to
*e.endency
someone who rea((y cares for me. Not one mentioned ho(d.
ing down a cha((enging 8ob, creating a wor% of art, ma%ing a
contribution to the community, being in a 'osition where he
or she cou(d (ove or even have chi(dren. The notion of effort
was not invo(ved in their daydreams: they envisioned on(y
an effort(ess 'assive state of receiving care. I to(d them, as I
te(( many others0 If being (oved is your goa(, you wi(( fai( to
achieve it. The on(y way to be assured of being (oved is to
be a 'erson worthy of (ove, and you cannot be a 'erson
worthy of (ove when your 'rimary goa( in (ife is to 'assive(y
be (oved. This is not to say that 'assive de'endent 'eo'(e
never do things for others, but their motive in doing things
is to cement the attachment of the others to them so as to
assure their own care. )nd when the 'ossibi(ity of care from
another is not direct(y invo(ved, they do have great difficu(ty
in doing things. )(( the members of the aforementioned
grou' found it agoniFing(y difficu(t to buy a house, se'arate
from their 'arents, (ocate a 8ob, (eave a tota((y
unsatisfactory o(d 8ob or even invest themse(ves in a hobby.
In marriage there is norma((y a differentiation of the ro(es
of the two s'ouses, a norma((y efficient division of (abor be.
tween them. The woman usua((y does the coo%ing, house.
c(eaning and sho''ing and cares for the chi(dren: the man
usua((y maintains em'(oyment, hand(es the finances, mows
the (awn and ma%es re'airs. Hea(thy cou'(es instinctive(y wi((
switch ro(es from time to time. The man may coo% a mea(
now and then, s'end one day a wee% with the chi(dren,
c(ean the house to sur'rise his wife: the woman may get a
'art.time 8ob, mow the (awn on her husband"s birthday, or
ta%e over the chec%ing account and bi((.'aying for a year.
The cou'(e may often thin% of this ro(e switching as a %ind
of '(ay that adds s'ice and variety to their marriage. It is
this, but 'erha's more im'ortant 4even if it is done
unconscious(y5, it is a 'rocess that diminishes their mutua(
de'endency. In a sense, each s'ouse is training himse(f or
herse(f for surviva( in the event of the (oss of the other. 9ut
for 'assive de'endent 'eo'(e the (oss of the other is such a
frightening 'ros'ect that
they cannot face 're'aring for it or to(erating a 'rocess that
wou(d diminish the de'endency or increase the freedom of
the other. Conse>uent(y it is one of the behaviora( ha((mar%s
of 'assive de'endent 'eo'(e in marriage that their ro(e differ.
entiation is rigid, and they see% to increase rather than
diminish mutua( de'endency so as to ma%e marriage more
rather than (ess of a tra'. 9y so doing, in the name of what
they ca(( (ove but what is rea((y de'endency, they diminish
their own and each other"s freedom and stature. Occasiona((y,
as 'art of this 'rocess, 'assive de'endent 'eo'(e when
married wi(( actua((y forsa%e s%i((s that they had gained
before marriage. )n e/am'(e of this is the not uncommon
syndrome of the wife who can"t drive a car. Ha(f the time in
such situations she %ay never have (earned, but in the
remaining cases, some.times a((eged(y because of a minor
accident, she deve(o's a 'hobia about driving at some 'oint
after marriage and sto's. The effect of this 'hobia in rura(
and suburban areas, where most 'eo'(e (ive, is to render her
a(most tota((y de'endent on her husband and chain her
husband to her by her he('(essness. Now he must do a(( the
sho''ing for the fami(y himse(f or he must chauffeur her on
a(( sho''ing e/'editions. 9ecause this behavior usua((y
gratifies the de'endency needs of both s'ouses, it is a(most
never seen as sic% or even as a 'rob(em to be so(ved by most
cou'(es. <hen I suggested to an otherwise e/treme(y
inte((igent ban%er that his wife, who sudden(y sto''ed driving
at age forty.si/ because of a 'hobia, might have a 'rob(em
deserving of 'sychiatric attention, he said Oh, no, the doctor
to(d her it was because of meno'ause, and you can"t do
anything about that. #he was secure in the %now(edge that
he wou(d not have an affair and (eave her because he was so
busy after wor% ta%ing her sho''ing and driving the chi(dren
around. He was secure in the %now(edge that she wou(d not
have an affair and (eave him because she did not have the
mobi(ity to meet 'eo'(e when he was away from her.
&e'endency !$5
Through such behavior, 'assive de'endent marriages may
be made (asting and secure, but they cannot be considered
either hea(thy or genuine(y (oving, because the
999 ?OD6
security is 'urchased at the 'rice of freedom and the
re(ation.shi' serves to retard or destroy the growth of the
individua( 'artners. )gain and again we te(( our cou'(es that
a good marriage can e/ist on(y between two strong and
inde'endent 'eo'(e.
$assive de'endency has its genesis in (ac% of (ove. The
inner fee(ing of em'tiness from which 'assive de'endent
'eo'(e suffer is the direct resu(t of their 'arents" fai(ure to
fu(fi(( their needs for affection, attention and care during their
chi(d.hood. It was mentioned in the first section that chi(dren
who are (oved and cared for with re(ative consistency
throughout chi(dhood enter adu(thood with a dee'seated
fee(ing that they are (ovab(e and va(uab(e and therefore wi((
be (oved and cared for as (ong as they remain true to
themse(ves. Chi(dren growing u' in an atmos'here in which
(ove and care are (ac%ing or given with gross inconsistency
enter adu(thood with no such sense of inner security. Rather,
they have an inner sense of insecurity, a fee(ing of I don"t
have enough and a sense that the wor(d is un'redictab(e
and ungiving, as we(( as a sense of themse(ves as being
>uestionab(y (ovab(e and va(uab(e. It is no wonder, then, that
they fee( the need to scramb(e for (ove, care and attention
wherever they can find it, and once having found it, c(ing to it
with a des'eration that (eads them to un(oving, mani'u(ative,
!achiave((ian behavior that destroys the very re(ationshi's
they see% to 'reserve. )s a(so indicated in the 'revious
section, (ove and disci'(ine go hand in hand, so that un(oving,
uncaring 'arents are 'eo'(e (ac%ing in disci'(ine, and when
they fai( to 'rovide their chi(dren with a sense of being (oved,
they a(so fai( to 'rovide them with the ca'acity for se(f.
disci'(ine. Thus the e/cessive de'endency of the 'assive
de'endent individua(s is on(y the 'rinci'a( manifestation of
their 'ersona(ity disorder. $assive de'endent 'eo'(e (ac%
se(f.disci'(ine. They are unwi((ing or unab(e to de(ay
gratification of their hunger for attention. In their des'eration
&e'endency !$5
to form and 'reserve attachments they throw honesty to the
winds. They c(ing to outworn re(ationshi's when they shou(d
give them u'. !ost im'ortant, they (ac% a sense of res'onsi.
99@ ?OD6
bi(ity for themse(ves. They 'assive(y (oo% to others, fre.
>uent(y even their own chi(dren, as the source of their
ha''iness and fu(fi((ment, and therefore when they are not
ha''y or fu(fi((ed they basica((y fee( that others are res'onsi.
b(e. Conse>uent(y they are end(ess(y angry, because they
end(ess(y fee( (et down by others who can never in rea(ity
fu(fi(( a(( their needs or ma%e them ha''y. I have a co((eague
who often te((s 'eo'(e, ?oo%, a((owing yourse(f to be de'en.
dent on another 'erson is the worst 'ossib(e thing you can do
to yourse(f. 7ou wou(d be better off being de'endent on her.
oin. )s (ong as you have a su''(y of it, heroin wi(( never (et
you down: if it"s there, it wi(( a(ways ma%e you ha''y. 9ut if
you e/'ect another 'erson to ma%e you ha''y, you"(( be end.
(ess(y disa''ointed. )s a matter of fact, it is no accident that
the most common disturbance that 'assive de'endent
'eo'(e manifest beyond their re(ationshi's to others is
de'endency on drugs and a(coho(. Theirs is the addictive
'ersona(ity. They are addicted to 'eo'(e, suc%ing on them
and gobb(ing them u', and when 'eo'(e are not avai(ab(e to
be suc%ed and gobb(ed, they often turn to the bott(e or the
need(e or the 'i(( as a 'eo'(e.substitute.
In summary, de'endency may a''ear to be (ove because it
is a force that causes 'eo'(e to fierce(y attach themse(ves to
one another. 9ut in actua(ity it is not (ove: it is a form of
anti(ove. It has its genesis in a 'arenta( fai(ure to (ove and it
'er'etuates the fai(ure. It see%s to receive rather than to
give. It nourishes infanti(ism rather than growth. It wor%s to
tra' and constrict rather than to (iberate. U(timate(y it
destroys rather than bui(ds re(ationshi's, and it destroys
rather than bui(ds 'eo'(e.
*3C ?OD6
!atheAis Without Love
One of the as'ects of de'endency is that it is unconcerned
with s'iritua( growth. De'endent 'eo'(e are interested in
their own nourishment, but no more: they desire fi((ing, they
desire to be ha''y: they don"t desire to grow, nor are they
wi((ing to to(erate the unha''iness, the (one(iness and suffer.
ing invo(ved in growth. Neither do de'endent 'eo'(e care
about the s'iritua( growth of the other, the ob8ect of their
de'endency: they care on(y that the other is there to satisfy
them. De'endency is but one of the forms of behavior to
which we incorrect(y a''(y the word (ove when concern for
s'iritua( evo(ution is absent. <e wi(( now consider other such
forms, and we ho'e to demonstrate again that (ove is never
nurturance or cathe/is without regard to s'iritua( growth.
<e fre>uent(y s'ea% of 'eo'(e (oving inanimate ob8ects or
activities. Thus we say, He (oves money or He (oves
'ower or He (oves to garden or He (oves to '(ay go(f.
Certain(y an individua( may e/tend himse(f or herse(f much
beyond ordinary 'ersona( (imits, wor%ing si/ty, seventy,
eighty hours a wee% to amass wea(th or 'ower. 7et des'ite
the e/tent of one"s fortune or inf(uence, a(( this wor% and
accumu(ation may not be se(f.en(arging at a((. Indeed, we
may often say about a se(f.made tycoon, He"s a sma((
'erson, mean and 'etty. <hi(e we may ta(% about how
much this 'erson (oves money or 'ower, we fre>uent(y do
not 'erceive him as a (oving 'erson. <hy is this so& It is
because wea(th or 'ower have become for such 'eo'(e ends
in themse(ves rather than means to a s'iritua( goa(. The on(y
true end of (ove is s'iritua( growth or human evo(ution.
!atheAis Without Love 1;7
Hobbies are se(f.nurturing activities. In (oving ourse(ves.
that is, nurturing ourse(ves for the 'ur'ose of s'iritua( growth
. w e need to 'rovide ourse(ves with a(( %inds of things that
are not direct(y s'iritua(. To nourish the s'irit the body must
a(so be nourished. <e need food and she(ter. No matter how
dedicated we are to s'iritua( deve(o'ment, we a(so need rest
and re(a/ation, e/ercise and distraction. #aints must s(ee'
and even 'ro'hets must '(ay. Thus hobbies may be a means
99A ?OD6
through which we (ove ourse(ves. 9ut if a hobby becomes an
end in itse(f, then it becomes a substitute for rather than a
means to se(f.deve(o'ment. #ometimes it is 'recise(y
because they are substitutes for se(f.deve(o'ment that
hobbies are so 'o'u(ar. On go(f courses, for instance, one
may find some aging men and women whose chief remaining
goa( in (ife is to %noc% a few more stro%es off their game. This
dedicated effort to im'rove their s%i(( serves to give them a
sense of 'rogress in (ife and thereby assists them in ignoring
the rea(ity that they have actua((y sto''ed 'rogressing,
having given u' the effort to im'rove themse(ves as human
beings. If they (oved themse(ves more they wou(d not a((ow
themse(ves to 'assionate(y sett(e for such a sha((ow goa( and
narrow future.
On the other hand, 'ower and money may be means to a
(oving goa(. ) 'erson may, for instance, suffer a career in
'o(itics for the 'rimary 'ur'ose of uti(iFing 'o(itica( 'ower for
the betterment of the human race. Or some 'eo'(e may
yearn for riches, not for money"s sa%e but in order to send
their chi(dren to co((ege or 'rovide themse(ves with the free.
dom and time for study and ref(ection which are necessary for
their own s'iritua( growth. It is not 'ower or money that such
'eo'(e (ove: it is humanity.
)mong the things that I am saying here and throughout
this section of the boo% is that our use of the word (ove is
so genera(iFed and uns'ecific as to severe(y interfere with
our understanding of (ove. I have no great e/'ectation that
the (anguage wi(( change in this res'ect. 7et as (ong as we
continue to use the word (ove to describe our re(ationshi'
with anything that is im'ortant to us, anything we cathect,
with.
*3- ?OD6
out regard for the >ua(ity of that re(ationshi', we wi(( con.
tinue to have difficu(ty discerning the difference between the
wise and the foo(ish, the good and the bad, the nob(e and
&e'endency !$5
the ignob(e.
Using our more s'ecific definition, it is c(ear, for instance,
that we can (ove on(y human beings. ;or, as we genera((y
conceive of things, it is on(y human beings who 'ossess a
s'irit ca'ab(e of substantia( growth. H Consider the matter of
'ets. <e (ove the fami(y dog. <e feed it and bathe it, 'et it
and cudd(e it, disci'(ine it and '(ay with it. <hen it is sic% we
may dro' everything and rush it to the veterinarian. <hen it
runs away or dies we may be grief.stric%en. Indeed, for some
(one(y 'eo'(e without chi(dren, their 'ets may become the
so(e reason for their e/istence. If this is not (ove, then what
is& 9ut (et us e/amine the differences between our re(a.
tionshi' with a 'et and that with another human being. ;irst
of a((, the e/tent of our communication with our 'ets is e/.
treme(y (imited in com'arison with the e/tent to which we
may communicate with other humans if we wor% at it. <e do
not %now what our 'ets are thin%ing. This (ac% of %now(edge
a((ows us to 'ro8ect onto our 'ets our own thoughts and fee(.
ings, and thereby to fee( an emotiona( c(oseness with them
which may not corres'ond to rea(ity at a((. #econd, we find
our 'ets satisfactory on(y insofar as their wi((s coincide with
ours. This is the basis on which we genera((y se(ect our 'ets,
and if their wi((s begin to diverge significant(y from our own,
we get rid of them. <e don"t %ee' 'ets around very (ong
when they 'rotest or fight bac% against us. The on(y schoo(
to which
H I recogniFe the 'ossibi(ity that this conce'tion may be a
fa(se one: that a(( matter, animate and inanimate, may
'ossess s'irit. The distinction of ourse(ves as humans being
different from (ower anima(s and '(ants and from
inanimate earth and roc%s, is a manifestation of maya, or
i((usion, in the mystica( frame of reference. There are (eve(s
of understanding. In this boo% I am dea(ing with (ove at a
certain (eve(. Unfortunate(y my s%i((s of communicating are
inade>uate to encom'ass more than one (eve( at a time or to
do more than 'rovide an occasiona( g(im'se of a (eve( other
than the one on which I am communicating.
!atheAis Without Love 1;6
99: ?OD6
we send our 'ets for the deve(o'ment of their minds or
s'irits is obedience schoo(. 7et it is 'ossib(e for us to desire
that other humans deve(o' a wi(( of their own: indeed, it is
this desire for the differentiation of the other that is one of
the characteristics of genuine (ove. ;ina((y, in our
re(ationshi' with 'ets we see% to foster their de'endency.
<e do not want them to grow u' and (eave home. <e want
them to stay 'ut, to (ie de'endab(y near the hearth. It is
their attachment to us rather than their inde'endence from
us that we va(ue in our 'ets.
This matter of the (ove of 'ets is of immense im'ort
because many, many 'eo'(e are ca'ab(e of (oving only
'ets and inca'ab(e of genuine(y (oving other human beings.
?arge numbers of )merican so(diers had idy((ic marriages to
=erman, Ita(ian or Ga'anese war brides with whom they
cou(d not verba((y communicate. 9ut when their brides
(earned 6ng(ish, the marriages began to fa(( a'art. The
servicemen cou(d then no (onger 'ro8ect u'on their wives
their own thoughts, fee(ings, desires and goa(s and fee( the
same sense of c(oseness one fee(s with a 'et. Instead, as
their wives (earned 6ng(ish, the men began to rea(iFe that
these women had ideas, o'inions and aims different from
their own. )s this ha''ened, (ove began to grow for some:
for most, 'erha's, it ceased. The (iberated woman is right to
beware of the man who affectionate(y ca((s her his 'et. He
may indeed be an individua( whose affection is de'endent
u'on her being a 'et, who (ac%s the ca'acity to res'ect her
strength, inde'endence and individua(ity. $robab(y the most
saddening e/am'(e of this 'henomenon is the very (arge
number of women who are ca'ab(e of (oving their chi(dren
on(y as infants. #uch women can be found everywhere.
They may be idea( mothers unti( their chi(dren reach the age
of two.infinite(y tender, 8oyous(y breast.feeding, cudd(ing
and '(aying with their babies, consistent(y affectionate,
tota((y dedicated to their nurture, and b(issfu((y ha''y in
their motherhood. Then, a(most over.night, the 'icture
changes. )s soon as a chi(d begins to assert its own wi((.to
disobey, to whine, to refuse to '(ay, to oc.
110 ? OD6
casiona((y re8ect being cudd(ed, to attach itse(f to other 'eo.
'(e, to move out into the wor(d a (itt(e bit on its own.the
&e'endency !$5
mother"s (ove ceases. #he (oses interest in the chi(d,
decathects it, 'erceives it on(y as a nuisance. )t the same
time she wi(( often fee( an a(most over'owering need to be
'regnant again, to have another infant, another 'et. Usua((y
she wi(( succeed, and the cyc(e is re'eated. If not, she may
be seen avid(y see%ing to baby.sit for the infant chi(dren of
neighbors whi(e a(most tota((y ignoring the '(eas of her own
o(der chi(d or chi(dren for attention. ;or her chi(dren the
terrib(e twos are not on(y the end of their infancy, they are
a(so the end of the e/'erience of being (oved by mother. The
'ain and de'rivation they e/'erience are obvious to a((
e/ce't their mother, busy with her new infant. The effect of
this e/'erience is usua((y evidenced as the chi(dren grow to
adu(thood in a de'ressive andNor 'assive de'endent
'ersona(ity 'attern.
<hat this suggests is that the (ove of infants and 'ets
and even de'endent(y obedient s'ouses is an instinctua(
'attern of behavior to which it is >uite a''ro'riate to a''(y
the term materna( instinct or, more genera((y, 'arenta(
instinct. <e can (i%en this to the instinctua( behavior of
fa((ing in (ove0 it is not a genuine form of (ove in that it is
re(ative(y effort(ess, and it is not tota((y an act of wi(( or
choice: it encourages the surviva( of the s'ecies but is not
directed to.ward its im'rovement or s'iritua( growth: it is
c(ose to (ove in that it is a reaching out for others and serves
to initiate inter.'ersona( bonds from which rea( (ove might
begin: but a good dea( more is re>uired to deve(o' a hea(thy,
creative marriage, raise a hea(thy, s'iritua((y growing chi(d
or contribute to the evo(ution of humanity.
The 'oint is that nurturing can be and usua((y shou(d be
much more than sim'(e feeding, and that nurturing s'iritua(
growth is an infinite(y more com'(icated 'rocess than can be
directed by any instinct. The mother mentioned at the begin.
ning of this section who wou(d not (et her son ta%e the bus to
schoo( is a case in 'oint. 9y driving him to and from schoo(
she was nurturing him in a sense, but it was a nurturing he
?+el"-+acri"ice
?
***
did not need and that c(ear(y retarded rather than furthered
his s'iritua( growth. Other e/am'(es abound0 mothers who
'ush food on their a(ready overweight chi(dren: fathers who
buy their sons who(e roomfu(s of toys and their daughters
99B ?OD6
who(e c(oset fu(( of c(othes: 'arents who set no (imits and
deny no desires. ?ove is not sim'(y giving: it is Cudicious
giving and 8udicious withho(ding as we((. It is 8udicious
'raising and 8udicious criticiFing. It is 8udicious arguing,
strugg(ing, con.fronting, urging, 'ushing and 'u((ing in
addition to comforting. It is (eadershi'. The word 8udicious
means re>uiring 8udgment, and 8udgment re>uires more
than instinct: it re>uires thoughtfu( and often 'ainfu(
decision.ma%ing.
?+el"-+acri"ice?
The motives behind in8udicious giving and destructive nur.
turing are many, but such cases invariab(y have a basic
feature in common0 the giver, under the guise of (ove, is
res'onding to and meeting his or her own needs without
regard to the s'iritua( needs of the receiver. ) minister
re(uctant(y came to see me because his wife was suffering
from a chronic de'ression and both his sons had dro''ed
out of co((ege and were (iving at home and receiving
'sychiatric attention. Des'ite the fact that his who(e fami(y
was i((, he was initia((y com'(ete(y unab(e to com'rehend
that he might be '(aying a ro(e in their i((nesses. I do
everything in my 'ower to ta%e care of them and their
'rob(ems, he re'orted. I don"t have a wa%ing moment
when I am not concerned about them. )na(ysis of the
situation revea(ed that this man was indeed wor%ing himse(f
to the bone to meet the demands of his wife and chi(dren.
He had given both of his sons new cars and 'aid the
**@ ?OD6
insurance on them even though he fe(t the boys shou(d be
'utting more effort into being se(f.su''orting. 6ach wee% he
too% his wife to the o'era or the theater in the city even
though he intense(y dis(i%ed going to the city, and o'era
&e'endency !$5
bored him to death. 9usy though he was on his 8ob, he s'ent
most of his free time at home 'ic%ing u' after his wife and
sons, who had a tota( disregard for housec(eaning. Don"t
you get tired of (aying yourse(f out for them a(( the time& I
as%ed him. Of course, he re'(ied, but what e(se am I to
do& I (ove them and I have too much com'assion not to ta%e
care of them. !y concern for them is so great that I wi((
never a((ow myse(f to stand by as (ong as they have needs
to be fi((ed. I may not be a bri((iant man, but at (east I have
(ove and concern.
Interesting(y, it emerged that his own father had been a
bri((iant scho(ar of considerab(e renown, but a(so an
a(coho(ic and 'hi(anderer who showed a tota( (ac% of
concern for the fami(y and was gross(y neg(ectfu( of them.
=radua((y my 'atient was he('ed to see that as a chi(d he
had vowed to be as different from his father as 'ossib(e, to
be as com'assionate and concerned as his father was
heart(ess and unconcerned. He was even ab(e to understand
after a whi(e that he had a tremendous sta%e in maintaining
an image of himse(f as (oving and com'assionate, and that
much of his behavior, inc(uding his career in the ministry,
had been devoted to fostering this image. <hat he did not
understand so easi(y was the degree to which he was
infanti(iFing his fami(y. He continua((y referred to his wife as
my %itten and to his fu((.grown, stra'.'ing sons as my
(itt(e ones. How e(se can I behave& he '(eaded. I may be
(oving in reaction to my father, but that doesn"t mean I"m
going to become un(oving or turn myse(f into a bastard.
<hat he (itera((y had to be taught was that (oving is a
com'(icated rather than a sim'(e activity, re>uiring the
'artici'ation of his entire being.his head as we(( as his
heart. 9ecause of his need to be as un(i%e his father as 'os.
sib(e, he had not been ab(e to deve(o' a f(e/ib(e res'onse
system for e/'ressing his (ove. He had to (earn that not
giving
?
+el " -+acr i "i ce
?
**A
at the right time was more com'assionate than giving at the
wrong time, and that fostering inde'endence was more (oving
than ta%ing care of 'eo'(e who cou(d otherwise ta%e care of
themse(ves. He even had to (earn that e/'ressing his own
needs, anger, resentments and e/'ectations was every bit as
9;9 ?OD6
necessary to the menta( hea(th of his fami(y as his se(f.sacri.
fice, and therefore that (ove must be manifested in confronta.
tion as much as in beatific acce'tance.
=radua((y coming to rea(iFe how he infanti(iFed his fami(y,
he began to ma%e changes. He sto''ed 'ic%ing u' after
every.one and became o'en(y angry when his sons did not
ade>uate(y 'artici'ate in the care of the home. He refused to
continue 'aying for the insurance on his sons" cars, te((ing
them that if they wanted to drive they wou(d have to 'ay for it
themse(ves. He suggested that his wife shou(d go a(one to the
o'era in New 7or%. In ma%ing these changes he had to ris%
a''earing to be the bad guy and had to give u' the
omni'otence of his former ro(e as 'rovider for a(( the needs of
the fami(y. 9ut even though his 'revious behavior had been
motivated 'rimari(y by a need to maintain an image of himse(f
as a (oving 'erson, he had at his core a ca'acity for genuine
(ove, and because of this ca'acity he was ab(e to accom'(ish
these a(terations in himse(f. 9oth his wife and his sons reacted
to these changes initia((y with anger. 9ut soon one son went
bac% to co((ege, and the other found a more demanding 8ob
and got an a'artment for himse(f. His wife began to en8oy her
new inde'endence and to grow in ways of her own. The man
found himse(f becoming more effective as a minister and at
the same time his (ife became more en8oyab(e.
The minister"s misguided (ove bordered on the more serious
'erversion of (ove that is masochism. ?aymen tend to associ.
ate sadism and masochism with 'ure(y se/ua( activity, thin%.
ing of them as the se/ua( en8oyment derived from inf(icting or
receiving 'hysica( 'ain. )ctua((y, true se/ua( sadomasochism
is a re(ative(y uncommon form of 'sycho'atho(ogy. !uch,
much more common, and u(timate(y more serious, is the 'he.
nomenon of socia( sadomasochism, in which 'eo'(e uncon.
&e'endency !$5
stious(y desire to hurt and be hurt by each other through
their nonse/ua( inter'ersona( re(ations. $rototy'ica((y a
woman wi(( see% 'sychiatric attention for de'ression in
res'onse to desertion by her husband. #he wi(( rega(e the
'sychiatrist with an end(ess ta(e of re'eated mistreatment
by her husband0 he 'aid her no attention, he had a string of
mistresses, he gamb(ed away the food money, he went
away for days at a time whenever he '(eased, he came
home drun% and beat her, and now, fina((y, he"s deserted
her and the chi(dren on Christmas 6ve.Christmas 6ve yet1
The neo'hyte thera'ist tends to res'ond to this 'oor
woman and her ta(e with instant sym'athy, but it does not
ta%e (ong for the sym'athy to eva'orate in the (ight of
further %now(edge. ;irst the thera'ist discovers that this
'attern of mistreatment has e/isted for twenty years, and
that whi(e the 'oor woman divorced her brute of a husband
twice, she a(so remarried him twice, and that innumerab(e
se'arations were fo((owed by innumerab(e reconci(iations.
Ne/t, after wor%ing with her for a month or two to assist her
in gaining inde'endence, and when every.thing seeming(y
is going we(( and the woman a''ears to be en8oying the
tran>ui(ity of (ife a'art from her husband, the thera'ist sees
the cyc(e enacted a(( over again. The woman ha''i(y
bounces into the office one day to announce, <e((, Henry"s
come bac%. He ca((ed u' the other night saying he wanted
to see me, so I did see him. He '(eaded with me to come
bac%, and he rea((y seems changed, so I too% him bac%.
<hen the thera'ist 'oints out that this seems to be but a
re'etition of a 'attern they had agreed was destructive, the
woman says, 9ut I (ove him. 7ou can"t deny (ove. If the
thera'ist attem'ts to e/amine this (ove with any
strenuousness, then the 'atient terminates thera'y.
<hat is going on here& In trying to understand what has
ha''ened, the thera'ist reca((s the obvious re(ish with
which the woman had recounted the (ong history of her
husband"s bruta(ity and mistreatment. #udden(y a strange
idea begins to dawn: maybe this woman endures her
9;@ ?OD6
husband"s mistreat.
&e'endency !$5
?
+el"-+acri"ice
?
115
ment, and even see%s it out, for the very '(easure of ta(%ing
about it. 9ut what wou(d be the nature of such '(easure& The
thera'ist remembers the woman"s se(f.righteousness. Cou(d
it be that the most im'ortant thing in the woman"s (ife is to
have a sense of mora( su'eriority and that in order to
maintain this sense she needs to be mistreated& The nature
of the 'attern now becomes c(ear. 9y a((owing herse(f to be
treated base(y she can fee( su'erior. U(timate(y she can even
have the sadistic '(easure of seeing her husband beg and
'(ead to return, and momentari(y ac%now(edge her
su'eriority from his hum.b(ed 'osition, whi(e she decides
whether or not to magnanimous(y ta%e him bac%. )nd in this
moment she achieves her revenge. <hen such women are
e/amined it is genera((y found that they were 'articu(ar(y
humi(iated as chi(dren. )s a resu(t they see% revenge through
their sense of mora( su'eriority, which re>uires re'eated
humi(iation and mistreatment. If the wor(d is treating us we((
we have no need to avenge ourse(ves on it. If see%ing
revenge is our goa( in (ife, we wi(( have to see to it that the
wor(d treats us bad(y in order to 8ustify our goa(. !asochists
(oo% on their submission to mistreatment as (ove, whereas in
fact it is a necessity in their never.ceasing search for revenge
and is basica((y motivated by hatred.
The issue of masochism high(ights sti(( another very ma8or
misconce'tion about (ove.that it is se(f.sacrifice. 9y virtue of
this be(ief the 'rototy'ica( masochist was enab(ed to see her
to(erance of mistreatment as se(f.sacrifice and hence as (ove,
and therefore did not have to ac%now(edge her hatred. The
minister a(so saw his se(f.sacrificia( behavior as (ove, a(.
though actua((y it was motivated not by the needs of his fam.
i(y but by his own need to maintain an image of himse(f. 6ar(y
in his treatment he wou(d continua((y ta(% about how he did
things for his wife and his chi(dren, (eading one to be(ieve
that he himse(f got nothing out of such acts. 9ut he did.
<henever we thin% of ourse(ves as doing something "or
some.one e(se, we are in some way denying our own
res'onsibi(ity.
**C ?OD6
9;A ?OD6
<hatever we do is done because we choose to do it, and we
ma%e that choice because it is the one that satisfies us the
most. <hatever we do for someone e(se we do because it
fu(fi((s a need we have. $arents who say to their chi(dren,
7ou shou(d be gratefu( for a(( that we have done for you are
invariab(y 'arents who are (ac%ing in (ove to a significant
degree. )nyone who genuine(y (oves %nows the '(easure of
(oving. <hen we genuine(y (ove we do so because we ant
to (ove. <e have chi(dren because we want to have chi(dren,
and if we are (oving 'arents, it is because we want to be
(oving 'arents. It is true that (ove invo(ves a change in the
se(f, but this is an e/tension of the se(f rather than a sacrifice
of the se(f. )s wi(( be discussed again (ater, genuine (ove is a
se(f.re'(enishing activity. Indeed, it is even more: it en(arges
rather than diminishes the se(f: it fi((s the se(f rather than
de'(eting it. In a rea( sense (ove is as se(fish as non(ove. Here
again there is a 'arado/ in that (ove is both se(fish and
unse(fish at the same time. It is not se(fishness or
unse(fishness that distinguishes (ove from non(ove: it is the
aim of the action. In the case of genuine (ove the aim is
a(ways s'iritua( growth. In the case of non(ove the aim is
a(ways something e(se.
Love Is /ot a ,eeling
I have said that (ove is an action, an activity. This (eads to
the fina( ma8or misconce'tion of (ove which needs to be ad.
dressed. ?ove is not a fee(ing. !any, many 'eo'(e 'ossessing
a fee(ing of (ove and even acting in res'onse to that fee(ing
act in a(( manner of un(oving and destructive ways. On the
other hand, a genuine(y (oving individua( wi(( often ta%e
(oving and constructive action toward a 'erson he or she
conscious(y
&e'endency !$5
Love Is /ot a ,eeling **,
dis(i%es, actua((y fee(ing no (ove toward the 'erson at the
time and 'erha's even finding the 'erson re'ugnant in some
way.
The fee(ing of (ove is the emotion that accom'anies the
e/'erience of cathecting. Cathecting, it wi(( be remembered,
is the 'rocess by which an ob8ect becomes im'ortant to us.
Once cathected, the ob8ect, common(y referred to as a (ove
ob8ect, is invested with our energy as if it were a 'art of
ourse(ves, and this re(ationshi' between us and the invested
ob8ect is ca((ed a cathe/is. #ince we may have many such
re(ationshi's going on at the same time, we s'ea% of our
cathe/es. The 'rocess of withdrawing our energy from a (ove
ob8ect so that it (oses its sense of im'ortance for us is %nown
as decathecting. The misconce'tion that (ove is a fee(ing
e/ists because we confuse cathecting with (oving. This
confusion is understandab(e since they are simi(ar 'rocesses,
but there are a(so stri%ing differences. ;irst of a((, as has
been 'ointed out, we may cathect any ob8ect, animate or
inanimate, with or without a s'irit. Thus a 'erson may
cathect the stoc% mar%et or a 'iece of 8ewe(ry and may fee(
(ove for these things. #econd, the fact that we have
cathected another human being does not mean that we care
a whit for that 'erson"s s'iritua( deve(o'ment. The
de'endent 'erson, in fact, usua((y fears the s'iritua(
deve(o'ment of a cathected s'ouse. The mother who
insisted u'on driving her ado(escent son to and from schoo(
c(ear(y cathected the boy: he was im'ortant to her.but his
s'iritua( growth was not. Third, the intensity of our cathe/es
fre>uent(y has nothing to do with wisdom or commitment.
Two strangers may meet in a bar and cathect each other in
such a way that nothing.not 'revious(y schedu(ed
a''ointments, 'romises made, or fami(y stabi(ity.is more
im'ortant for the moment than their se/ua( consummation.
;ina((y, our cathe/es may be f(eeting and momentary. Im.
mediate(y fo((owing their se/ua( consummation the 8ust.
mentioned cou'(e may find each other unattractive and
undesirab(e. <e may decathect something a(most as soon as
we have cathected it.
9;: ?OD6
=enuine (ove, on the other hand, im'(ies commitment and
**- ?OD6
the e/ercise of wisdom. <hen we are concerned for
someone"s s'iritua( growth, we %now that a (ac% of
commitment is (i%e(y to be harmfu( and that commitment to
that 'erson is 'robab(y necessary for us to manifest our
concern effective(y. It is for this reason that commitment is
the cornerstone of the 'sycho.thera'eutic re(ationshi'. It is
a(most im'ossib(e for a 'atient to e/'erience significant
'ersona(ity growth without a thera'eutic a((iance with the
thera'ist. In other words, before the 'atient can ris% ma8or
change he or she must fee( the strength and security that
come from be(ieving that the thera'ist is the 'atient"s
constant and stab(e a((y. ;or this a((iance to occur the
thera'ist must demonstrate to the 'atient, usua((y over a
considerab(e (ength of time, the consistent and steadfast
caring that can arise on(y from a ca'acity for commitment.
This does not mean that the thera'ist a(ways "eels (i%e
(istening to the 'atient. Commitment means that the
thera'ist (istens to the 'atient, (i%e it or not. It is no different
in a marriage. In a constructive marriage, 8ust as in
constructive thera'y, the 'artners must regu(ar(y, routine(y
and 'redictab(y, attend to each other and their re(ationshi'
no matter how they fee(. )s has been mentioned, cou'(es
sooner or (ater a(ways fa(( out of (ove, and it is at the
moment when the mating instinct has run its course that
the o''ortunity for genuine (ove begins. It is when the
s'ouses no (onger fee( (i%e being in each other
"
s com'any
a(ways, when they wou(d rather be e(sewhere some of the
time, that their (ove begins to be tested and wi(( be found to
be 'resent or absent.
This is not to say that the 'artners in a stab(e,
constructive re(ationshi' such as intensive 'sychothera'y or
marriage do not cathect each other and the re(ationshi'
itse(f in various ways: they do. <hat it does say is that
genuine (ove transcends the matter of cathe/es. <hen (ove
e/ists it does so with or without cathe/is and with or without
a (oving fee(ing. It is easier.indeed, it is f un. t o (ove with
cathe/is and the fee(ing of (ove. 9ut it is 'ossib(e to (ove
&e'endency !$5
without cathe/is and without (oving fee(ings, and it is in the
fu(fi((ment of this 'ossibi(ity
Love Is /ot a ,eeling **+
that genuine and transcendent (ove is distinguished from sim.
'(e cathe/is. The %ey word in this distinction is wi((. I have
defined (ove as the ill to e/tend onese(f for the 'ur'ose of
nurturing one"s own and another"s s'iritua( growth. =enuine
(ove is vo(itiona( rather than emotiona(. The 'erson who tru(y
(oves does so because of a decision to (ove. This 'erson has
made a commitment to be (oving whether or not the (oving
fee(ing is 'resent. If it is, so much the better: but if it isn"t, the
commitment to (ove, the wi(( to (ove, sti(( stands and is sti((
e/ercised. Converse(y, it is not on(y 'ossib(e but necessary for
a (oving 'erson to avoid acting on fee(ings of (ove. I may meet
a woman who strong(y attracts me, whom I fee( (i%e (oving,
but because it wou(d be destructive to my marriage to have
an affair at that time, I wi(( say voca((y or in the si(ence of my
heart, I fee( (i%e (oving you, but I am not going to. #imi(ar(y, I
may refuse to ta%e on a new 'atient who is most attractive
and (i%e(y to succeed in thera'y because my time is a(ready
committed to other 'atients, some of whom may be
considerab(y (ess attractive and more difficu(t. !y fee(ings of
(ove may be unbounded, but my ca'acity to be (oving is
(imited. I therefore must choose the 'erson on whom to focus
my ca'acity to (ove, toward whom to direct my wi(( to (ove.
True (ove is not a fee(ing by which we are overwhe(med. It is a
committed, thoughtfu( decision.
The common tendency to confuse (ove with the fee(ing of
(ove a((ows 'eo'(e a(( manner of se(f.dece'tion. )n a(coho(ic
man, whose wife and chi(dren are des'erate(y in need of his
attention at that very moment, may be sitting in a bar with
tears in his eyes, te((ing the bartender, I rea((y (ove my fam.
i(y. $eo'(e who neg(ect their chi(dren in the grossest of ways
9;B ?OD6
more often than not wi(( consider themse(ves the most (oving
of 'arents. It is c(ear that there may be a se(f.serving >ua(ity
in this tendency to confuse (ove with the fee(ing of (ove: it is
easy and not at a(( un'(easant to find evidence of (ove in
one"s fee(ings. It may be difficu(t and 'ainfu( to search for
evidence of (ove in one"s actions. 9ut because true (ove is an
act of wi((
*@3 ?OD6
that often transcends e'hemera( fee(ings of (ove or cathe/is,
it is correct to say, ?ove is as (ove does. ?ove and non(ove,
as good and evi(, are ob8ective and not 'ure(y sub8ective
'henomena.
The Wor' o" Attention
Having (oo%ed at some of the things that (ove is not, (et us
now e/amine some that (ove is. It was mentioned in the
introduction to this section that the definition of (ove im'(ied
effort. <hen we e/tend ourse(ves, when we ta%e an e/tra
ste' or wa(% an e/tra mi(e, we do so in o''osition to the
inertia of (aFiness or the resistance of fear. 6/tension of
ourse(ves or moving out against the inertia of (aFiness we
ca(( wor%. !oving out in the face of fear we ca(( courage.
?ove, then, is a form of wor% or a form of courage.
#'ecifica((y, it is wor% or courage directed toward the
nurture of our own or another"s s'iritua( growth. <e may
wor% or e/ert courage in directions other than toward
s'iritua( growth, and for this reason a(( wor% and a(( courage
is not (ove. 9ut since it re>uires the e/tension of ourse(ves,
(ove is a(ways either wor% or courage. If an act is not one of
wor% or courage, then it is not an act of (ove. There are no
e/ce'tions.
The 'rinci'a( form that the wor% of (ove ta%es is attention.
&e'endency !$5
<hen we (ove another we give him or her our attention: we
attend to that"s 'erson"s growth. <hen we (ove ourse(ves we
attend to our own growth. <hen we attend to someone we
are caring for that 'erson. The act of attending re>uires that
we ma%e the effort to set aside our e/isting 'reoccu'ations
4as was described in regard to the disci'(ine of brac%eting5
and active(y shift our consciousness. )ttention is an act of
wi((, of
The Wor' o" Attention *@*
wor% against the inertia of our own minds. )s Ro((o !ay says,
<hen we ana(yFe wi(( with a(( the too(s modern 'sy.
choana(ysis brings us, we sha(( find ourse(ves 'ushed bac% to
the (eve( of attention or intention as the seat of wi((. The effort
which goes into the e/ercise of the wi(( is rea((y effort of
attention: the strain in wi((ing is the effort to %ee' the con.
sciousness c(ear, i.e., the strain of %ee'ing the attention fo.
cused. H
9y far the most common and im'ortant way in which we
can e/ercise our attention is by (istening. <e s'end an enor.
mous amount of time (istening, most of which we waste,
because on the who(e most of us (isten very 'oor(y. )n
industria( 'sycho(ogist once 'ointed out to me that the
amount of time we devote to teaching certain sub8ects to
our chi(dren in schoo( is inverse(y 'ro'ortiona( to the
fre>uency with which the chi(dren wi(( ma%e use of the
sub8ect when they gro u'. Thus a business e/ecutive wi((
s'end rough(y an hour of his day reading, two hours ta(%ing
and eight hours (istening. 7et in schoo( we s'end a (arge
amount of time teaching chi(dren how to read, a very sma((
amount of time teaching them how to s'ea%, and usua((y no
time at a(( teaching them how to (isten. I do not be(ieve it
wou(d be a good thing to ma%e what we teach in schoo(
e/act(y 'ro'ortiona( to what we do after schoo(, but I do
thin% we wou(d be wise to give our chi(dren some instruction
in the 'rocess of (istening.not so that (istening can be made
easy but rather that they wi(( understand how difficu(t it is to
(isten we((. ?istening we(( is an e/ercise of attention and by
necessity hard wor%. It is because they do not rea(iFe this or
because they are not wi((ing to do the wor% that most
9@9 ?OD6
'eo'(e do not (isten we((.
Not very (ong ago I attended a (ecture by a famous man
on an as'ect of the re(ationshi' between 'sycho(ogy and
re(igion in which I have (ong been interested. 9ecause of my
interest I had a certain amount of e/'ertise in the sub8ect
and immediate(y recogniFed the (ecturer to be a great sage
indeed. I a(so
& Love and Will 4New 7or%0 De(ta 9oo%s, De(( $ub., *+C+5, '.
@@3.
*@@ ?OD6
sensed (ove in the tremendous effort that he was e/erting to
communicate, with a(( manner of e/am'(es, high(y abstract
conce'ts that were difficu(t for us, his audience, to com're.
hend. I therefore (istened to him with a(( the intentness of
which I was ca'ab(e. Throughout the hour and a ha(f he
ta(%ed sweat was (itera((y dri''ing down my face in the air.
conditioned auditorium. 9y the time he was finished I had a
throbbing headache, the musc(es in my nec% were rigid from
my effort at concentration, and I fe(t com'(ete(y drained and
e/hausted. )(though I estimated that I had understood no
more than 23 'ercent of what this great man had said to us
that afternoon, I was amaFed by the (arge number of bri((iant
insights he had given me. ;o((owing the (ecture, which was
we(( attended by cu(ture.see%ing individua(s, I wandered
about through the audience during a coffee brea% (istening to
their comments. =enera((y they were disa''ointed. Enowing
his re'utation, they had e/'ected more. They found him hard
to fo((ow and his ta(% confusing. He was not as com'etent a
s'ea%er as they had ho'ed to hear. One woman 'roc(aimed to
nods of agreement, He rea((y didn"t te(( us anything.
In contradistinction to the others, I was ab(e to hear much
&e'endency !$5
of what this great man said, 'recise(y because I was wi((ing to
do the wor% of (istening to him. I was wi((ing to do this wor% for
two reasons0 one, because I recogniFed his greatness and that
what he had to say wou(d (i%e(y be of great va(ue: second,
because of my interest in the fie(d I dee'(y wanted to absorb
what he had to say so as to enhance my own understanding
and s'iritua( growth. !y (istening to him was an act of (ove. I
(oved him because I 'erceived him to be a 'erson of great
va(ue worth attending to, and I (oved myse(f because I was
wi((ing to wor% on beha(f of my growth. #ince he was the
teacher and I the 'u'i(, he the giver and I the receiver, my
(ove was 'rimari(y se(f.directed, motivated by what I cou(d get
out of our re(ationshi' and not what I cou(d give him.
Nonethe(ess, it is entire(y 'ossib(e that he cou(d sense within
his audience the intensity of my concentration, my attention,
my (ove, and he may have been thereby rewarded. ?ove, as
The Wor' o" Attention *@ A
we sha(( see again and again, is invariab(y a two.way street, a
reci'roca( 'henomenon whereby the receiver a(so gives and
the giver a(so receives.
;rom this e/am'(e of (istening in the receiver ro(e (et us
'roceed to our most common o''ortunity to (isten in the giver
ro(e0 (istening to chi(dren. The 'rocess of (istening to chi(dren
differs de'ending u'on the age of the chi(d. ;or the 'resent
(et us consider a si/.year.o(d first.grader. =iven the chance, a
first.grader wi(( ta(% a(most incessant(y. How can 'arents dea(
with this never.ending chatter& $erha's the easiest way is to
forbid it. 9e(ieve it or not, there are fami(ies in which the
chi(dren are virtua((y not a((owed to ta(%, in which the dictum
Chi(dren shou(d be seen and not heard a''(ies twenty.four
hours a day. #uch chi(dren may be seen, never interacting,
si(ent(y staring at adu(ts from the corners, mute on(oo%ers
from the shadows. ) second way is to 'ermit the chatter but
sim'(y not (isten to it, so that your chi(d is not interacting with
you but is (itera((y ta(%ing to thin air or to him. or her.se(f,
creating bac%ground noise that may or may not be annoying.
) third way is to 'retend to (isten, 'roceeding a(ong as best
you can with what you are doing or with your train of thought
whi(e a''earing to give the chi(d your attention and
9@@ ?OD6
occasiona((y ma%ing unh huh or that"s nice noises at more
or (ess a''ro'riate times in res'onse to the mono(ogue. )
fourth way is se(ective (istening, which is a 'articu(ar(y a(ert
form of 'retend (istening, wherein 'arents may 'ric% u' their
ears if the chi(d seems to be saying something of significance,
ho'ing to se'arate the wheat from the chaff with a minimum
of effort. The 'rob(em with this way is that the human mind"s
ca'acity to fi(ter se(ective(y is not terrib(y com'etent or effi.
cient, with the resu(t that a fair amount of chaff is retained
and a great dea( of the wheat (ost. The fifth and fina( way, of
course, is to tru(y (isten to the chi(d, giving him or her your fu((
and com'(ete attention, weighing each word and under.
standing each sentence.
These five ways of res'onding to the ta(%ing of chi(dren have
been re'resented in ascending order of effort, with the
*@B ?OD6
fifth way, true (istening, re>uiring from the 'arent a >uantum
(ea' of energy com'ared to the (ess effortfu( ways. The
reader may naive(y su''ose that I wi(( recommend to
'arents that they shou(d a(ways fo((ow the fifth way and
a(ways tru(y (isten to their chi(dren. Hard(y1 ;irst of a((, the
si/.year.o(d"s 'ro'ensity to ta(% is so great that a 'arent who
a(ways tru(y (istened wou(d have neg(igib(e time (eft to
accom'(ish any.thing e(se. #econd, the effort re>uired to
tru(y (isten is so great that the 'arent wou(d be too
e/hausted to accom'(ish anything e(se. ;ina((y, it wou(d be
unbe(ievab(y boring, be.cause the fact of the matter is that
the chatter of a si/.year.o(d is genera((y boring. <hat is
re>uired, therefore, is a ba(ance of a(( five ways. It is
necessary at times to te(( chi(dren sim'(y to shut u'.when,
for instance, their ta(% may be distracting in situations that
&e'endency !$5
critica((y re>uire attention e(sewhere or when it may
re'resent a rude interru'tion of others and an attem't to
achieve hosti(e or unrea(istic dominance. ;re>uent(y si/.
year.o(ds wi(( chatter for the 'ure 8oy of chattering, and there
is nothing to be served by giving them attention when they
are not even re>uesting it and are >uite c(ear(y ha''y ta(%ing
to themse(ves. There are other times when chi(dren are not
content to ta(% to themse(ves but desire to interact with
'arents, and yet their need can be >uite ade>uate(y met by
'retend (istening. )t these times what chi(dren want from
interaction is not communication but sim'(y c(oseness, and
'retend (istening wi(( suffice to 'rovide them with the sense
of being with that they want. ;urthermore, chi(dren them.
se(ves often (i%e to drift in and out of communication and wi((
be understanding of their 'arents" se(ective (istening, since
they are on(y se(ective(y communicating. They understand
this to be the ru(e of the game. #o it is on(y during a
re(ative(y sma(( 'ro'ortion of their tota( ta(%ing time that si/.
year.o(d chi(dren need or even desire a res'onse of true and
tota( (istening. One of the many e/treme(y com'(e/ tas%s of
'arenting is to be ab(e to stri%e a c(ose to idea( ba(ance of
sty(es of (istening and not (istening, res'onding with the
a''ro'riate sty(e to a chi(d"s varying needs.
9@A ?OD6
The Wor' o" Attention
125
#uch a ba(ance is fre>uent(y not struc% because, even
though the duration need not be (ong, many 'arents are un.
wi((ing or unab(e to e/'end the energy re>uired for true (is.
tening. $erha's most 'arents. They may thin% they are tru(y
(istening when a(( they are doing is 'retend (istening, or at
best se(ective (istening, but this is se(f.dece'tion, designed to
hide from themse(ves their (aFiness. ;or true (istening, no
matter how brief, re>uires tremendous effort. ;irst of a((, it
re>uires tota( concentration. 7ou cannot tru(y (isten to anyone
and do anything e(se at the same time. If a 'arent wants to
tru(y (isten to a chi(d, the 'arent must 'ut aside everything
e(se. The time of true (istening must be devoted so(e(y to the
chi(d: it must be the chi(d"s time. If you are not wi((ing to 'ut
aside everything, inc(uding your own worries and 'reoccu.
'ations for such a time, then you are not wi((ing to tru(y (isten.
#econd, the effort re>uired for tota( concentration on the
words of a si/.year.o(d chi(d is considerab(y greater than that
re>uired for (istening to a great (ecturer. The chi(d"s s'eech
'atterns are uneven.occasiona( rushes of words inters'ersed
with 'auses and re'etitions.which ma%es concentration
difficu(t. Then the chi(d wi(( usua((y be ta(%ing of matters that
have no inherent interest for the adu(t, whereas the great
(ecturer"s audience is s'ecifica((y interested in the to'ic of his
s'eech. In other words, it is du(( to (isten to a si/.year.o(d,
which ma%es it doub(y difficu(t to %ee' concentration focused.
Conse>uent(y tru(y (istening to a chi(d of this age is a rea(
(abor of (ove. <ithout (ove to motivate the 'arent it cou(dn"t
be done.
9ut why bother& <hy e/ert a(( this effort to focus tota((y on
the boring 'ratt(ings of a si/.year.o(d& ;irst, your wi((ingness
&e'endency !$5
to do so is the best 'ossib(e concrete evidence of your
esteem you can give your chi(d. If you give your chi(d the
same esteem you wou(d give a great (ecturer, then the chi(d
wi(( %now him. or herse(f to be va(ued and therefore wi(( fee(
va(uab(e. There is no better and u(timate(y no other way to
teach your chi(dren that they are va(uab(e 'eo'(e than by
va(uing them. #econd, the more chi(dren fee( va(uab(e, the
I I I ?OD6
more they wi(( begin to say things of va(ue. They wi(( rise to
your e/'ectation of them. Third, the more you (isten to your
chi(d, the more you wi(( rea(iFe that in amongst the 'auses,
the stutterings, the seeming(y innocent chatter, your chi(d
does indeed have va(uab(e things to say. The dictum that
great wisdom comes from the mouths of babes is
recogniFed as an abso(ute fact by anyone who tru(y (istens to
chi(dren. ?isten to your chi(d enough and you wi(( come to
rea(iFe that he or she is >uite an e/traordinary individua(.
)nd the more e/traordinary you rea(iFe your chi(d to be, the
more you wi(( be wi((ing to (isten. )nd the more you wi((
(earn. ;ourth, the more you %now about your chi(d, the more
you wi(( be ab(e to teach. Enow (itt(e about your chi(dren, and
usua((y you wi(( be teaching things that either they are not
ready to (earn or they a(ready %now and 'erha's understand
better than you. ;ina((y, the more chi(dren %now that you
va(ue them, that you consider them e/traordinary 'eo'(e,
the more wi((ing they wi(( be to (isten to you and afford you
the same esteem. )nd the more a''ro'riate your teaching,
based on your %now(edge of them, the more eager your
chi(dren wi(( be to (earn from you. )nd the more they (earn,
the more e/traordinary they wi(( become. If the reader
senses the cyc(ica( character of this 'rocess, he or she is
>uite correct and is a''reciating the truth of the reci'rocity
of (ove. Instead of a vicious downward cyc(e, it is a creative
u'ward cyc(e of evo(ution and growth. Da(ue creates va(ue.
?ove begets (ove. $arents and chi(d together s'in forward
faster and faster in the .as de deuA of (ove.
9@: ?OD6
<e have been ta(%ing with a si/.year.o(d in mind. <ith
younger or o(der chi(dren the 'ro'er ba(ance of (istening and
non(istening differs, but the 'rocess is basica((y the same.
<ith younger chi(dren the communication is more and more
nonverba( but sti(( idea((y re>uires 'eriods of tota( concentra.
tion. 7ou can"t '(ay 'atty.ca%e very we(( when your mind is
e(sewhere. )nd if you can on(y '(ay 'atty.ca%e ha(fhearted(y,
you are running the ris% of having a ha(fhearted chi(d. )do.
(escent chi(dren re>uire (ess tota( (istening time from their
The Wor' o" Attenti on 127
'arents than a si/.year.o(d but even more true (istening time.
They are much (ess (i%e(y to chatter aim(ess(y, but when they
do ta(%, they want their 'arents" fu(( attention even more than
do the younger chi(dren.
The need for one"s 'arents to (isten is never outgrown. )
thirty.year.o(d ta(ented 'rofessiona( man in treatment for
fee(ings of an/iety re(ated to (ow se(f.esteem cou(d reca(( nu.
merous instances in which his 'arents, a(so 'rofessiona(s, had
been unwi((ing to (isten to what he had to say or had regarded
what he had to say as being of (itt(e worth and conse>uence.
9ut of a(( these memories the most vivid and 'ainfu( was that
of his twenty.second year, when he wrote a (engthy 'rovoca.
tive thesis that earned his graduation from co((ege with high
honors. 9eing ambitious for him, his 'arents were abso(ute(y
de(ighted by the honors he had received. 7et des'ite the fact
that for a who(e year he (eft a co'y of the thesis around in fu((
view in the fami(y (iving room and made fre>uent hints to his
'arents that they might (i%e to have a (oo% at it, neither one
of them ever too% the time to read it. I daresay they wou(d
have read it, he said toward the end of his thera'y, I dare.
say they wou(d have even com'(imented me on it had I gone
to them and as%ed them 'oint.b(an%, K?oo%, wou(d you
'(ease, '(ease read my thesis& I want you to %now and a''re.
ciate the %inds of things I am thin%ing." 9ut that wou(d have
been begging them to (isten to me, and I was damned if at
twenty.two I was going to go around begging for their atten.
tion. Having to beg for it wou(dn"t have made me fee( any
more va(uab(e.

&e'endency !$5
True (istening, tota( concentration on the other, is a(ways a
manifestation of (ove. )n essentia( 'art of true (istening is the
disci'(ine of brac%eting, the tem'orary giving u' or setting
aside of one"s own 're8udices, frames of reference and
desires so as to e/'erience as far as 'ossib(e the s'ea%er
"
s
wor(d from the inside, ste''ing inside his or her shoes. This
unification of s'ea%er and (istener is actua((y an e/tension
and en(argement of ourse(f, and new %now(edge is a(ways
gained from this. !oreover, since true (istening invo(ves
brac%eting, a set.
*@R L4@E
ting aside of the se(f, it a(so tem'orari(y invo(ves a tota(
acce'tance of the other. #ensing this acce'tance, the
s'ea%er wi(( fee( (ess and (ess vu(nerab(e and more and more
inc(ined to o'en u' the inner recesses of his or her mind to
the (istener. )s this ha''ens, s'ea%er and (istener begin to
a''reciate each other more and more, and the duet dance of
(ove is again begun. The energy re>uired for the disci'(ine of
brac%eting and the focusing of tota( attention is so great that
it can be accom'(ished on(y by (ove, by the wi(( to e/tend
onese(f for mutua( growth. !ost of the time we (ac% this
energy. 6ven though we may fee( in our business dea(ings or
socia( re(ation.shi's that we are (istening very hard, what we
are usua((y doing is (istening se(ective(y, with a 'reset
agenda in mind, wondering as we (isten how we can achieve
certain desired resu(ts and get the conversation over with as
>uic%(y as 'ossib(e or redirected in ways more satisfactory to
us.
#ince true (istening is (ove in action, nowhere is it more
a''ro'riate than in marriage. 7et most cou'(es never tru(y
(isten to each other. Conse>uent(y, when cou'(es come to us
for counse(ing or thera'y, a ma8or tas% we must accom'(ish
if the 'rocess is to be successfu( is to teach them how to
(isten. Not infre>uent(y we fai(, the energy and disci'(ine
invo(ved being more than they are wi((ing to e/'end or
submit them.se(ves to. Cou'(es are often sur'rised, even
horrified, when we suggest to them that among the things
they shou(d do is ta(% to each other by a''ointment. It
seems rigid and unromantic and uns'ontaneous to them. 7et
true (istening can occur on(y when time is set aside for it and
9@B ?OD6
conditions are su''ortive of it. It cannot occur when 'eo'(e
are driving, or coo%ing or tired and an/ious to s(ee' or easi(y
interru'ted or in a hurry. Romantic (ove is effort(ess, and
cou'(es are fre>uent(y re(uctant to shou(der the effort and
disci'(ine of true (ove and (istening. 9ut when and if they
fina((y do, the resu(ts are su'erb(y gratifying. )gain and
again we have the e/'erience of hearing one s'ouse say to
another with rea( 8oy, once the 'rocess of true (istening has
been started, <e"ve been
The Wor' o" Attention *@+
married twenty.nine years and I never %new that about you
before. <hen this occurs we %now that growth in the mar.
riage has begun.
<hi(e it is true that one"s ca'acity to tru(y (isten may im.
'rove gradua((y with 'ractice, it never becomes an effort(ess
'rocess. $erha's the 'rimary re>uisite for a good 'sychiatrist
is a ca'acity to tru(y (isten, yet ha(f a doFen times during the
average fifty.minute hour I wi(( catch myse(f fai(ing to tru(y
(isten to what my 'atient is saying. #ometimes I may (ose the
thread of my 'atient"s associations entire(y, and it is then
necessary for me to say, I"m sorry, but I a((owed my mind to
wander for a moment and I was not tru(y (istening to you.
Cou(d you run over the 'ast few sentences again& Interest.
ing(y, 'atients are usua((y not resentfu( when this occurs. To
the contrary, they seem to understand intuitive(y that a vita(
e(ement of the ca'acity to tru(y (isten is being on the a(ert for
those (a'ses when one is not tru(y (istening, and my ac%now(.
edgment that my attention has wandered actua((y reassures
them that most of the time I am tru(y (istening. This %now(.
edge that one is being tru(y (istened to is fre>uent(y in and of
itse(f remar%ab(y thera'eutic. In a''ro/imate(y a >uarter of
our cases, whether 'atients are adu(ts or chi(dren, consider.
ab(e and even dramatic im'rovement is shown during the first
few months of 'sychothera'y, before any of the roots of
'rob(ems have been uncovered or significant inter'retations
have been made. There are severa( reasons for this
'henomenon, but chief among them, I be(ieve, is the
'atient"s sense that he or she is being tru(y (istened to, often
for the first time in years, and 'erha's for the first time ever.
&e'endency !$5
<hi(e (istening is by far the most im'ortant form of atten.
tion, other forms are a(so necessary in most (oving re(ation.
shi's, 'articu(ar(y with chi(dren. The variety of such 'ossib(e
forms is great. One is game.'(aying. <ith the infant this wi((
be 'atty.ca%e and 'ee%aboo: with the si/.year.o(d it wi(( be
magic tric%s, go fish, or hide.and.see%: with the twe(ve.year.
o(d it wi(( be badminton and gin rummy: and so on. Reading
**3 ?OD6
to young chi(dren is attention, as is he('ing o(der ones with
their homewor%. ;ami(y activities are im'ortant0 movies, 'ic.
nics, drives, tri's, fairs, carniva(s. #ome forms of attention
are 'ure service to the chi(d0 sitting on the beach attending a
four.year.o(d or the a(most end(ess chauffeuring re>uired by
ear(y ado(escents. 9ut what a(( these forms of attention have
in common.and they have it in common with (istening as
we((.is that they invo(ve time s'ent with the chi(d. 9asica((y,
to attend is to s'end time with, and the >ua(ity of the
attention is 'ro'ortiona( to the intensity of concentration
during that time. The time s'ent with chi(dren in these
activities, if used we((, gives 'arents count(ess o''ortunities
to observe their chi(dren and come to %now them better.
<hether chi(dren are good (osers or bad, how they do their
homewor% and how they (earn, what a''ea(s to them and
what doesn"t, when they are courageous and when they are
frightened in such activities.a(( are vita( 'ieces of information
for the (oving 'arent. This time with the chi(d in activity a(so
gives the 'arents innumerab(e o''ortunities for the teaching
of s%i((s and the basic 'rinci'(es of disci'(ine. The usefu(ness
of activity for observing and teaching the chi(d is of course
the basic 'rinci'(e of '(ay thera'y, and e/'erienced chi(d
thera'ists may become e/treme(y ade't at using the time
s'ent with their chi(d 'atients in '(ay for ma%ing significant
observations and thera'eutic interventions.
Eee'ing one"s eye on a four.year.o(d at the beach, concen.
trating on an interminab(e dis8ointed story to(d by a si/.year
o(d, teaching an ado(escent how to drive, tru(y (istening to
the ta(e of your s'ouse"s day at the office or (aundrimat, and
understanding his or her 'rob(ems from the inside, attem't.
ing to be as consistent(y 'atient and brac%eting as much as
9=9 ?OD6
'ossib(e.a(( these are tas%s that are often boring, fre>uent(y
inconvenient and a(ways energy.draining: they mean wor%. If
we were (aFier we wou(d not do them at a((. If we were (ess
(aFy we wou(d do them more often or better. #ince (ove is
wor%, the essence of non(ove is (aFiness. The sub8ect of (aFi.
The Ris' o" Loss *A*
ness is an e/treme(y im'ortant one. It is a hidden theme run.
ning throughout the first section on disci'(ine and this one on
(ove. <e wi(( focus it s'ecifica((y in the fina( section, when we
shou(d have a c(earer 'ers'ective.
The Ris' o" Loss
The act of (ove.e/tending onese(f.as I have said, re.>uires a
moving out against the inertia of (aFiness 4wor%5 or the
resistance engendered by fear 4courage5. ?et us turn now
from the wor% of (ove to the courage of (ove. <hen we
e/tend ourse(ves, our se(f enters new and unfami(iar
territory, so to s'ea%. Our se(f becomes a new and different
se(f. <e do things we are not accustomed to do. <e change.
The e/'erience of change, of unaccustomed activity, of being
on unfami(iar ground, of doing things different(y is
frightening. It a(ways was and a(ways wi(( be. $eo'(e hand(e
their fear of change in different ways, but the fear is
inesca'ab(e if they are in fact to change. Courage is not the
absence of fear: it is the ma%ing of action in s'ite of fear, the
moving out against the resistance engendered by fear into
the un%nown and into the future. On some (eve( s'iritua(
growth, and therefore (ove, a(ways re>uires courage and
invo(ves ris%. It is the ris%ing of (ove that we wi(( now
consider.
&e'endency !$5
If you are a regu(ar churchgoer you might notice a woman
in her (ate forties who every #unday e/act(y five minutes
before the start of the service incons'icuous(y ta%es the
same seat in a side 'ew on the ais(e at the very bac% of the
church. The moment the service is over she >uiet(y but
>uic%(y ma%es for the door and is gone before any of the
other 'arishioners
*A@ ?OD6
and before the minister can come out onto the ste's to
meet with his f(oc%. #hou(d you manage to accost her.which
is un(i%e(y.and invite her to the coffee socia( hour fo((owing
the service, she wou(d than% you 'o(ite(y, nervous(y (oo%ing
away from you, but te(( you that she has a 'ressing engage.
ment, and wou(d then dash away. <ere you to fo((ow her
toward her 'ressing engagement you wou(d find that she re.
turns direct(y to her home, a (itt(e a'artment where the
b(inds are a(ways drawn, un(oc%s her door, enters,
immediate(y (oc%s the door behind her, and is not seen
again that #unday. If you cou(d %ee' watch over her you
might see that she has a 8ob as a (ow ran%ing ty'ist in a
(arge office, where she acce'ts her assignments word(ess(y,
ty'es them fau(t(ess(y, and re.turns her finished wor%
without comment. #he eats her (unch at her des% and has
no friends. #he wa(%s home, sto''ing a(ways at the same
im'ersona( su'ermar%et for a few 'rovisions before she
vanishes behind her door unti( she a''ears again for the
ne/t day"s wor%. On #aturday afternoons she goes a(one to a
(oca( movie theater that has a wee%(y change of shows. #he
has a TD set. #he has no 'hone. #he a(most never receives
mai(. <ere you somehow ab(e to communicate with her and
comment that her (ife seemed (one(y, she wou(d te(( you
that she rather en8oyed her (one(iness. If you as%ed her if
she didn"t even have any 'ets, she wou(d te(( you that she
had had a dog of whom she was very fond but that he had
died eight years before and no other dog cou(d ta%e his
'(ace.
<ho is this woman& <e do not %now the secrets of her
heart. <hat we do %now is that her who(e (ife is devoted to
avoiding ris%s and that in this endeavor, rather than
9=@ ?OD6
en(arging her se(f, she has narrowed and diminished it
a(most to the 'oint of none/istence. #he cathects no other
(iving thing. Now, we have said that sim'(e cathe/is is not
(ove, that (ove transcends cathe/is. This is true, but (ove
re>uires cathe/is for a beginning. <e can (ove on(y that
which in one way or another has im'ortance for us. 9ut with
cathe/is there is a(.ways the ris% of (oss or re8ection. If you
move out to another human being, there is a(ways the ris%
that that 'erson wi((
The Ri s' o" Loss 1#
#
move away from you, (eaving you more 'ainfu((y a(one than
you were before. ?ove anything that (ives.a 'erson, a 'et, a
'(ant.and it wi(( die. Trust anybody and you may be hurt:
de'end on anyone and that one may (et you down. The
'rice of cathe/is is 'ain. If someone is determined not to
ris% 'ain, then such a 'erson must do without many things0
having chi(dren, getting married, the ecstasy of se/, the
ho'e of ambition, friendshi'.a(( that ma%es (ife a(ive,
meaningfu( and significant. !ove out or grow in any
dimension and 'ain as we(( as 8oy wi(( be your reward. ) fu((
(ife wi(( be fu(( of 'ain. 9ut the on(y a(ternative is not to (ive
fu((y or not to (ive at a((.
The essence of (ife is change, a 'ano'(y of growth and
decay. 6(ect (ife and growth, and you e(ect change and the
'ros'ect of death. ) (i%e(y determinant for the iso(ated, nar.
row (ife of the woman described was an e/'erience or series
of e/'eriences with death which she found so 'ainfu( that
she was determined never to e/'erience death again, even
at the cost of (iving. In avoiding the e/'erience of death she
had to avoid growth and change. #he e(ected a (ife of
sameness free from the new, the une/'ected, a (iving
death, without ris% or cha((enge. I have said that the
attem't to avoid (egitimate suffering (ies at the root of a((
emotiona( i((ness. Not sur'rising(y, most 'sychothera'y
'atients 4and 'robab(y most non.'atients, since neurosis is
the norm rather than the e/ce'tion5 have a 'rob(em,
whether they are young or o(d, in facing the rea(ity of death
s>uare(y and c(ear(y. <hat is sur'rising is that the
&e'endency !$5
'sychiatric (iterature is on(y beginning to e/amine the
significance of this 'henomenon. If we can (ive with the
%now(edge that death is our constant com'anion, trave(ing
on our (eft shou(der, then death can become in the words
of Don Guan, our a((y, sti(( fearsome but continua((y a
source of wise counse(. H <ith death"s counse(, the constant
awareness of the (imit of our time to (ive and (ove, we can
a(ways
H #ee Car(os Casteneda
"
s The Teachings o" *on )uan3 A
1aDui Way o" >noledge, A +e.arate Reality, )ourney to
IAtlan, and Tales o" Poer. On a ma8or (eve( these are boo%s
about the 'sychothera'eutic 'rocess.
*AB ?OD6
be guided to ma%e the best use of our time and (ive (ife to
the fu((est. 9ut if we are unwi((ing to fu((y face the fearsome
'resence of death on our (eft shou(der, we de'rive ourse(ves
of its counse( and cannot 'ossib(y (ive or (ove with c(arity.
<hen we shy away from death, the ever.changing nature of
things, we inevitab(y shy away from (ife.
The Ri s' o" I nde.endence
Thus a(( (ife itse(f re'resents a ris%, and the more (oving(y
we (ive our (ives the more ris%s we ta%e. Of the thousands,
maybe even mi((ions, of ris%s we can ta%e in a (ifetime the
greatest is the ris% of growing u'. =rowing u' is the act of
ste''ing from chi(dhood into adu(thood. )ctua((y it is more
of a fearfu( (ea' than a ste', and it is a (ea' that many
'eo'(e never rea((y ta%e in their (ifetimes. Though they may
outward(y a''ear to be adu(ts, even successfu( adu(ts,
'erha's the ma8ority of grown.u's remain unti( their death
9=A ?OD6
'sycho.(ogica( chi(dren who have never tru(y se'arated
themse(ves from their 'arents and the 'ower that their
'arents have over them. $erha's because it was so
'oignant(y 'ersona( to me, I fee( I can best i((ustrate the
essence of growing u' and the enormity of the ris% invo(ved
by describing the giant ste' I myse(f too% into adu(thood at
the end of my fifteenth year.fortunate(y very ear(y in (ife.
)(though this ste' was a conscious decision, (et me 'reface
my account of it by saying that I had no awareness
whatsoever at the time that what I was doing was growing
u'. I on(y %new that I was (ea'ing into the un%nown.
)t the age of thirteen I went away from home to $hi((i's
The Ris' o" Inde.endence *A2
6/eter )cademy, a boy"s 're'aratory schoo( of the very
highest re'utation, to which my brother had gone before
me. I %new that I was fortunate to be going there, because
attendance at 6/eter was 'art of a we((.defined 'attern that
wou(d (ead me to one of the best Ivy ?eague co((eges and
from there into the highest eche(ons of the 6stab(ishment,
whose doors wou(d be wide o'en to me on account of my
educationa( bac%ground. I fe(t e/treme(y (uc%y to have
been born the chi(d of we((.to.do 'arents who cou(d afford
the best education that money cou(d buy, and I had a
great sense of security which came from being a 'art of
what was so obvious(y a 'ro'er 'attern. The on(y 'rob(em
was that a(most immediate(y after starting 6/eter I
became miserab(y unha''y. The reasons for my
unha''iness were tota((y obscure to me then and are sti((
>uite 'rofound(y mysterious to me today. I 8ust did not
seem to fit. I didn"t seem to fit with the facu(ty, the
students, the courses, the architecture, the socia( (ife, the
tota( environment. 7et there seemed nothing to do other
than to try to ma%e the best of it and try to mo(d my
im'erfections so that I cou(d fit more comfortab(y into this
'attern that had been (aid out for me and that was so
obvious(y the right 'attern. )nd try I did for two and a ha(f
years. 7et dai(y my (ife a''eared more meaning(ess and I
fe(t more wretched. The (ast year I did (itt(e but s(ee', for
on(y in s(ee' cou(d I find any comfort. In retros'ect I thin%
&e'endency !$5
'erha's in my s(ee' I was resting and unconscious(y
're'aring myse(f for the (ea' I was about to ta%e. I too% it
when I returned home for s'ring vacation of my third year
and announced that I was not going to return to schoo(. !y
father said, 9ut you can"t >ui t. i t " s the best education
money can buy. Don"t you rea(iFe what you"d be throwing
away&
I %now it"s a good schoo(, I re'(ied, but I"m not going
bac%.
<hy can"t you ad8ust to it, ma%e another go of it&

my
'arents as%ed.
I don"t %now, I answered, fee(ing tota((y inade>uate. I
*AC ?OD6
don"t even %now why I hate it so. 9ut I hate it and I"m not
going bac%.
<e((, what are you going to do, then& #ince you seem to
want to '(ay so (oose with your future, 8ust what is it you
'(an to do&
)gain I miserab(y re'(ied, I don"t %now. )(( I %now is I"m
not going bac% there.
!y 'arents were understandab(y a(armed and too% me
forthwith to a 'sychiatrist, who stated that I was de'ressed
and recommended a month"s hos'ita(iFation, giving me a
day to decide whether or not this was what I wanted. That
night was the on(y time I ever considered suicide. 6ntering a
'sychiatric hos'ita( seemed >uite a''ro'riate to me. I was,
as the 'sychiatrist said, de'ressed. !y brother had ad8usted
to 6/eter: why cou(dn"t I& I %new that my difficu(ty in
ad8usting was entire(y my fau(t, and I fe(t tota((y inade>uate,
incom'etent and worth(ess. <orse, I be(ieved that I was
'robab(y insane. Had not my father said, 7ou must be
craFy to throw away such a good education& If I returned to
6/eter I wou(d be returning to a(( that was safe, secure,
right, 'ro'er, constructive, 'roven and %nown. 7et it was not
me. In the de'ths of my being I %new it was not my 'ath.
9ut what was my 'ath& If I did not return, a(( that (ay ahead
was un%nown, undetermined, unsafe, insecure, unsanctified,
un'redictab(e. )nyone who wou(d ta%e such a 'ath must be
mad. I was terrified. 9ut then, at the moment of my greatest
9=: ?OD6
des'air, from my unconscious there came a se>uence of
words, (i%e a strange disembodied orac(e from a voice that
was not mine0 The on(y rea( security in (ife (ies in re(ishing
(ife"s insecurity. 6ven if it meant being craFy and out of
ste' with a(( that seemed ho(y, I had decided to be me. I
rested. In the morning I went to see the 'sychiatrist again
and to(d him that I wou(d never return to 6/eter but that I
was ready to enter his hos'ita(. I had ta%en the (ea' into the
un%nown. I had ta%en my destiny into my own hands.
The 'rocess of growing u' usua((y occurs very gradua((y,
The Ris' o" Inde.endence 1#7
with mu(ti'(e (itt(e (ea's into the un%nown, such as when
an eight.year.o(d boy first ta%es the ris% of riding his bi%e
down to the country store a(( by himse(f or a fifteen.year.
o(d goes out on his or her first date. If you doubt that these
re'resent rea( ris%s, then you cannot remember the
an/iety invo(ved. If you observe even the hea(thiest of
chi(dren you wi(( see not on(y an eagerness to ris% new and
adu(t activities but a(so, side by side, a re(uctance, a
shrin%ing bac%, a c(inging to the safe and fami(iar, a
ho(ding onto de'endency and chi(dhood. !oreover, on
more or (ess subt(e (eve(s, you can find this same
ambiva(ence in an adu(t, inc(uding yourse(f, with the
e(der(y 'articu(ar(y tending to c(ing to the o(d, %nown and
fami(iar. )(most dai(y at the age of forty I am 'resented
with subt(e o''ortunities to ris% doing things different(y,
o''ortunities to grow. I am sti(( growing u', and not as fast
as I might. )mong a(( the (itt(e (ea's we might ta%e, there
are a(so some enormous ones, as when by (eaving schoo( I
was a(so forsa%ing a who(e 'attern of (ife and va(ues
according to which I had been raised. !any never ta%e any
of these 'otentia( enormous (ea's, and conse>uent(y
many do not ever rea((y grow u' at a((. Des'ite their
outward a''earances they remain 'sycho.(ogica((y sti((
very much the chi(dren of their 'arents, (iving by hand.me.
down va(ues, motivated 'rimari(y by their 'arents"
a''rova( and disa''rova( 4even when their 'arents are
(ong dead and buried5, never having dared to tru(y ta%e
their destiny into their own hands.
&e'endency !$5
<hi(e such great (ea's are most common(y made during
ado(escence, they can be made at any age. ) thirty.five.
year o(d mother of three, married to a contro((ing,
stu(tifying, in.f(e/ib(e, chauvinistic husband, gradua((y and
'ainfu((y comes to rea(iFe that her de'endency on him
and their marriage is a (iving death. He b(oc%s a(( her
attem'ts to change the nature of their re(ationshi'. <ith
incredib(e bravery she divorces him, sustaining the
burden of his recriminations and the criticism of
neighbors, and ris%s an un%nown future a(one with her
chi(dren, but free for the first time in her (ife to be her
*A- ?OD6
own 'erson. De'ressed fo((owing a heart attac%, a fifty.two
year.o(d businessman (oo%s bac% on a (ife of frantic ambition
to constant(y ma%e more money and rise ever higher in the
cor'orate hierarchy and finds it meaning(ess. )fter (ong re.
f(ection he rea(iFes that he has been driven by a need for
a''rova( from a domineering, constant(y critica( mother: he
has a(most wor%ed himse(f to death so as to be fina((y
successfu( in her eyes. Ris%ing and transcending her
disa''rova( for the first time in his (ife, as we(( as braving the
ire of his high.(iving wife and chi(dren, who are re(uctant to
give u' their e/'ensive (ife sty(e, he moves to the country and
o'ens u' a (itt(e sho' where he restores anti>ue furniture.
#uch ma8or changes, such (ea's into inde'endence and se(f.
determination, are enormous(y 'ainfu( at any age and re>uire
su'reme courage, yet they are not infre>uent resu(ts of
'sychothera'y. Indeed, because of the enormity of the ris%s
invo(ved, they often re>uire 'sychothera'y for their
accom'(ishment, not because thera'y diminishes the ris% but
because it su''orts and teaches courage.
9ut what has this business of growing u' to do with (ove,
a'art from the fact that the e/tension of the se(f invo(ved in
(oving is an en(argement of the se(f into new dimensions&
;irst of a((, the e/am'(es of the changes described and a((
other such ma8or changes are acts of se(f.(ove. It is 'recise(y
because I va(ued myse(f that I was unwi((ing to remain
miserab(e in a schoo( and who(e socia( environment that did
not fit my needs. It is because the housewife had regard for
9=B ?OD6
herse(f that she refused to to(erate any (onger a marriage
that so tota((y (imited her freedom and re'ressed her
'ersona(ity. It is be.cause the businessman cared for himse(f
that he was no (onger wi((ing to near(y %i(( himse(f in order to
meet the e/'ectations of his mother. #econd, not on(y does
(ove for onese(f 'rovide the motive for such ma8or changes: it
a(so is the basis for the courage to ris% them. It is on(y
because my 'arents had c(ear(y (oved and va(ued me as a
young chi(d that I fe(t sufficient(y secure in myse(f to defy
their e/'ectations and radica((y de.'art from the 'attern they
had (aid out for me. )(though I
&e'endency !$5
The Ris' o" Inde.endence
1#6
fe(t inade>uate and worth(ess and 'ossib(y craFy in doing
what I did, I was ab(e to to(erate these fee(ings on(y because
at the same time, on an even dee'er (eve(, I sensed myse(f to
be a good 'erson no matter how different I might be. In
daring to be different, even if it meant to be craFy, I was
res'onding to ear(ier (oving messages from my 'arents,
hundreds of them, which said, 7ou are a beautifu( and be.
(oved individua(. It is good to be you. <e wi(( (ove you no
matter what you do, as (ong as you are you. <ithout that
security of my 'arents" (ove ref(ected in my own se(f.(ove, I
wou(d have chosen the %nown instead of the un%nown and
continued to fo((ow my 'arents" 'referred 'attern at the e/.
treme cost of my se(f"s basic uni>ueness. ;ina((y, it is on(y
when one has ta%en the (ea' into the un%nown of tota( se(f.
hood, 'sycho(ogica( inde'endence and uni>ue individua(ity
that one is free to 'roceed a(ong sti(( higher 'aths of s'iritua(
growth and free to manifest (ove in its greatest dimensions.
)s (ong as one marries, enters a career or has chi(dren to
satisfy one"s 'arents or the e/'ectations of anyone e(se, in.
c(uding society as a who(e, the commitment by its very
nature wi(( be a sha((ow one. )s (ong as one (oves one"s
chi(dren 'rimari(y because one is e/'ected to behave in a
(oving manner toward them, then the 'arent wi(( be
insensitive to the more subt(e needs of the chi(dren and
unab(e to e/'ress (ove in the more subt(e, yet often most
im'ortant ways. The highest forms of (ove are inevitab(y
tota((y free choices and not acts of conformity.
10; ?OD6
The Ri s ' o" !o %%i t %e nt
<hether it be sha((ow or not, commitment is the foundation,
the bedroc% of any genuine(y (oving re(ationshi'. Dee'
commitment does not guarantee the success of the
re(ationshi' but does he(' more than any other factor to assure
it. Initia((y sha((ow commitments may grow dee' with time: if
not, the re(ationshi' wi(( (i%e(y crumb(e or e(se be inevitab(y
sic%(y or chronica((y frai(. ;re>uent(y we are not conscious(y
aware of the immensity of the ris% invo(ved in ma%ing a dee'
commitment. I have a(ready suggested that one of the
functions served by the instinctua( 'henomenon of fa((ing in
(ove is to 'rovide the 'artici'ants with a magic c(oa% of
omni'otence which b(issfu((y b(inds them to the ris%iness of
what they are doing when they underta%e marriage. ;or my
own 'art, I was reasonab(y ca(m unti( the very moment that
my wife 8oined me before the a(tar, when my who(e body
began to tremb(e. I then became so frightened that I can
remember a(most nothing of the ceremony or the rece'tion
fo((owing. In any case, it is our sense of commitment after the
wedding which ma%es 'ossib(e the transition from fa((ing in
(ove to genuine (ove. )nd it is our commitment after
conce'tion which transforms us from bio(ogica( into
'sycho(ogica( 'arents.H Commitment is inherent in any
genuine(y (oving re(ationshi'. )nyone who is tru(y concerned
for the s'iritua( growth of another %nows, conscious(y or
instinctive(y, that he or she can significant(y
H The im'ortance of the distinction between bio(ogica(
and 'sycho.(ogica( 'arenting is e(egant(y e(aborated and
concretiFed in =o(dstein, ;reud and #o(nit, Beyond the
9est Interests of the !hild (Macmillan, *+,A5.
The Ris' o" !o%%it%ent *B*
foster that growth on(y through a re(ationshi' of
constancy. Chi(dren cannot grow to 'sycho(ogica( maturity
in an atmos'here of un'redictabi(ity, haunted by the
s'ecter of abandonment. Cou'(es cannot reso(ve in any
hea(thy way the universa( issues of marriage.de'endency
and inde'endency, dominance and submission, freedom
and fide(ity, for e/am'(e .without the security of %nowing
that the act of strugg(ing over these issues wi(( not itse(f
destroy the re(ationshi'.
$rob(ems of commitment are a ma8or, inherent 'art of
most 'sychiatric disorders, and issues of commitment are
crucia( in the course of 'sychothera'y. Character.disordered
individua(s tend to form on(y sha((ow commitments, and
when their disorders are severe these individua(s seem to
(ac% tota((y the ca'acity to form commitments at a((. It is not
so much that they fear the ris% of committing themse(ves as
that they basica((y do not understand what commitment is
a(( about. 9e.cause their 'arents fai(ed to commit
themse(ves to them as chi(dren in any meaningfu( way, they
grew u' without e/'erience of commitment. Commitment for
them re'resents an abstract beyond their %en, a
'henomenon of which they can.not fu((y conceive. Neurotics,
on the other hand, are genera((y aware of the nature of
commitment but are fre>uent(y 'ara(yFed by the fear of it.
Usua((y their e/'erience of ear(y chi(d.hood was one in which
their 'arents were sufficient(y committed to them for them
to form a commitment to their 'arents in return.
#ubse>uent(y, however, a cessation of 'a.renta( (ove through
death, abandonment or chronic re8ection, has the effect of
ma%ing the chi(d"s unre>uited commitment an e/'erience of
into(erab(e 'ain. New commitments, then, are natura((y
dreaded. #uch in8uries can be hea(ed on(y if it is 'ossib(e for
the 'erson to have a basic and more satisfying e/'erience
with commitment at a (ater date. It is for this reason, among
others, that commitment is the cornerstone of the
'sychothera'eutic re(ationshi'. There are times when I
shudder at the enormity of what I am doing when I acce't
another 'atient for (ong.term thera'y. ;or basic hea(ing to
ta%e '(ace it is necessary for the 'sychothera'ist to bring to
*B@ ?OD6
his or her re(ationshi' with a new 'atient the same high
sense and degree of commitment that genuine(y (oving
'arents bring to their chi(dren. The thera'ist"s sense of
commitment and constancy of concern wi(( usua((y be tested
and inevitab(y made manifest to the 'atient in myriad ways
over the course of months or years of thera'y.
Rache(, a co(d and distant(y 'ro'er young woman of
twenty.seven, came to see me at the end of a brief
marriage. Her husband, !ar%, had (eft her because of her
frigidity. I %now I"m frigid, Rache( ac%now(edged. I
thought I wou(d warm u' to !ar% in time, but it never
ha''ened. I don"t thin% it"s 8ust !ar%. I"ve never en8oyed se/
with anyone. )nd, to te(( you the truth, I"m not sure I want
to. One 'art of me wants to, because I"d (i%e to have a
ha''y marriage someday, and I"d (i%e to be norma(.norma(
'eo'(e seem to find some.thing wonderfu( in se/. 9ut
another 'art of me is >uite con.tent to stay the way I am.
!ar% a(ways said, KRe(a/ and (et go." <e((, maybe I don"t
want to re(a/ and (et go even if I cou(d.
In the third month of our wor% together I 'ointed out to
Rache( that she a(ways said Than% you to me at (east
twice before she even sat down to begin a session.first
when I met her in the waiting room and again as she 'assed
through the door into my office. <hat"s wrong with being
'o(ite& she as%ed.
Nothing .er se,? I re'(ied. 9ut in this 'articu(ar case it
seems so unnecessary. 7ou are acting as if you were a
guest in here and not even sure of your we(come.
9ut I am a guest in here. It"s your house.
True, I said. 9ut it"s a(so true that you"re 'aying me
forty do((ars an hour for your time in here. 7ou have 'ur.
chased this time and this office s'ace, and because you"ve
'urchased it, you have a right to it. 7ou"re not a guest. This
office, this waiting room, and our time together are your
right. It"s yours. 7ou"ve 'aid me for this right, so why than%
me for what is yours&
I can"t be(ieve you rea((y fee( that way, Rache(
e/c(aimed.
The Ris' o" !o%%it%ent *BA
Then you must be(ieve that I can %ic% you out of here any
time I want to, I countered. 7ou must fee( that it"s 'ossib(e
for you to come in here some morning and have me te(( you,
KRache(, wor%ing with you has become a bore. I"ve decided
not to see you again. =oodbye and good (uc%."
That"s e/act(y the way I fee(, Rache( agreed. I"ve never
thought of anything being my right before, at (east not in
regard to any 'erson. 7ou mean you cou(dn"t %ic% me out&
Oh, I su''ose I cou(d. 9ut I wou(dn"t. I wou(dn"t want to. It
wou(dn
"
t be ethica(, among other things. ?oo%, Rache(, I said,
when I ta%e on a case such as yours in (ong.term thera'y I
ma%e a commitment to that case, that 'erson. )nd I"ve made
a commitment to you. I wi(( wor% with you as (ong as is
necessary, whether it ta%es one year or five years or ten years
or whatever. I don"t %now whether you wi(( >uit our wor%
together when you"re ready or before you"re ready. 9ut
whichever it is, you are the one who wi(( terminate our re(a.
tionshi'. #hort of my death, my services wi(( be avai(ab(e to
you as (ong as you want them.
It was not difficu(t for me to understand Rache("s 'rob(em.
)t the beginning of her thera'y her e/.husband, !ar%, had
said to me0 I thin% Rache("s mother has a (ot to do with this.
#he"s a remar%ab(e woman. #he"d ma%e a great 'resident of
=enera( !otors, but I"m not sure she"s a very good mother.
Muite so. Rache( had been raised, or rather ru(ed, with the
fee(ing that she might be fired at any moment if she didn"t toe
the (ine. Rather than giving Rache( the sense that her '(ace in
the home as a chi(d was secure.a sense that can come so(e(y
from committed 'arents.Rache(
"
s mother had instead con.
sistent(y communicated the o''osite0 (i%e that of an
em'(oyee, Rache("s 'osition was guaranteed on(y insofar as
she 'roduced what was re>uired and behaved according to
e/'ectations. #ince her '(ace in the home was not secure as a
chi(d, how cou(d she fee( that her '(ace with me was secure&
#uch in8uries caused by a 'arenta( fai(ure of commitment
are not hea(ed by a few words, a few su'erficia( reassurances.
On successive(y dee'er (eve(s they must be wor%ed through
iBB ?OD6
again and again. One such wor%ing.through, for instance,
occurred more than a year (ater. <e had been focusing on
the fact that Rache( never cried in my 'resence.another way
in which she cou(d not a((ow herse(f to (et go. One day as
she was ta(%ing of the terrib(e (one(iness that came from
having to constant(y be on guard, I sensed that she was on
the brin% of wee'ing but that some s(ight 'ush was needed
from me, so I did something out of the ordinary0 I reached
over to where she was (ying on the couch and gent(y stro%ed
her head, murmuring, $oor Rache(. $oor Rache(. The
gesture fai(ed. Rache( immediate(y stiffened and sat u', dry.
eyed. I cannot do it, she said. I cannot (et myse(f go. This
was toward the end of the session. )t her ne/t session
Rache( came in and sat on the couch instead of (ying down.
<e((, now it"s your time to ta(%, she announced.
<hat do you mean& I as%ed.
7ou"re going to te(( me a(( the things that are wrong with
me.
I was 'uFF(ed. I sti(( don
"
t understand what you mean,
Rache(.
This is our (ast session. 7ou"re going to sum u' a(( the
things wrong with me, a(( the reasons why you can"t treat me
any more.
I don"t have the foggiest idea what"s going on, I said.
It was Rache("s turn to be 'uFF(ed. <e((, she said, (ast
session you wanted me to cry. 7ou"ve wanted me to cry for
a (ong time. ?ast session you did everything you cou(d to
he(' me to cry and I sti(( wou(dn"t do it, so you"re going to
give u' on me. I can"t do what you want me to do. That"s
why today wi(( be our (ast session.
7ou rea((y be(ieve I"m going to fire you, don"t you,
Rache(&
7es. )nyone wou(d.
No, Rache(, not anyone. 7our mother might have. 9ut I"m
not your mother. Not everyone in this wor(d is (i%e your
mother. 7ou"re not my em'(oyee. 7ou"re not here to do what
I want you to do. 7ou"re here to do what you want to do,
The Ris' o" !o%%it%ent *B2
when you want to do it. I may 'ush you, but I have no 'ower
over you. I wi(( never fire you. 7ou"re here for as (ong as you
want to be.
One of the 'rob(ems that 'eo'(e common(y have in their
adu(t re(ationshi's if they have never received a firm com.
mitment from their 'arents is the I"(( desert you before you
desert me syndrome. This syndrome wi(( ta%e many forms or
disguises. One form was Rache("s frigidity. )(though it was
never on a conscious (eve(, what Rache("s frigidity was
e/'ressing to her husband and 'revious boyfriends was, I"m
not going to give myse(f to you when I %now damn we(( that
you
"
re going to dum' me one of these days. ;or Rache(,
(etting go, se/ua((y or otherwise, re'resented a
commitment of herse(f, and she was unwi((ing to ma%e a
commitment when the ma' of her 'ast e/'erience made it
seem certain she wou(d not receive any commitment in
return.
The I"(( desert you before you desert me syndrome be.
comes more and more 'owerfu( the c(oser such a 'erson as
Rache( comes to another. )fter a year of thera'y on a twice .
a.wee% basis Rache( announced to me that she cou(d no
(onger afford eighty do((ars a wee%. #ince her divorce, she
said, she was having a difficu(t time ma%ing ends meet, and
she wou(d sim'(y have to sto' seeing me or cut bac% to once
a wee%. On a rea(istic (eve( this was ridicu(ous. I %new that
Rache( had an inheritance of fifty thousand do((ars in addition
to the modest sa(ary she earned at her 8ob, and in the
community she was %nown to be a member of an o(d and
wea(thy fami(y. Ordinari(y I wou(d have confronted her
vigorous(y with the fact that she cou(d afford my services
more easi(y than many 'atients and was c(ear(y using the
issue of money s'urious(y to f(ee from an increasing
c(oseness to me. On the other hand, I a(so %new that her
inheritance re'resented something more for Rache( than 8ust
money: it was hers, something that wou(d not desert her, a
bu(war% of security in an uncommitted wor(d. )(though it was
>uite reasonab(e for me to as% her to di' into her inheritance
to 'ay my standard fee, I guessed that
*BC ?OD6
that was a ris% she was not yet ready to ma%e and that if I
insisted she wou(d indeed f(ee. #he had said she thought
that on her income she cou(d afford to 'ay fifty do((ars a
wee%, and she offered me that amount for 8ust one session. I
to(d her I wou(d reduce my fee to twenty.five do((ars a
session and continue to see her twice wee%(y. #he (oo%ed at
me with a mi/ture of fear, disbe(ief and 8oy. 7ou"d rea((y do
that& she as%ed. I nodded. ) (ong 'eriod of si(ence fo((owed.
;ina((y, c(oser to tears than she had ever yet been, Rache(
said, 9e.cause I came from a wea(thy fami(y, the merchants
in town have a(ways charged me the highest the traffic
wou(d bear. 7ou are offering me a brea%. No one ever offered
me a brea% before.
)ctua((y, Rache( >uit thera'y severa( times during the fo(.
(owing year in the strugg(e over whether she cou(d 'ermit our
mutua( commitment to grow. 6ach time, through a combina.
tion of (etters and 'hone ca((s over a wee% or two, I was ab(e
to 'ersuade her to return. ;ina((y, by the end of the second
year of thera'y we were ab(e to dea( more direct(y with the
issues invo(ved. I"d (earned that Rache( wrote 'oetry and I
as%ed her to show it to me. ;irst she refused. Then she
agreed, but wee% after wee% she wou(d forget to bring it to
me. I 'ointed out that withho(ding her 'oetry from me had
the same significance as withho(ding her se/ua(ity from !ar%
and other men. <hy did she fee( that the offering of her
'oems to me re'resented a tota( commitment of herse(f& <hy
did she fee( that the sharing of her se/ua(ity was a simi(ar
tota( commitment& 6ven if I were not res'onsive to her
'oetry, wou(d that mean a tota( re8ection of her& <ou(d I
terminate our friendshi' because she was not a great 'oet&
$erha's the sharing of her 'oetry wou(d dee'en our
re(ationshi'. <hy was she fearfu( of such dee'ening& 6t
cetera. 6t cetera. 6t cetera.
;ina((y coming to acce't the fact that she did have a com.
mitment from me, in the third year of her thera'y Rache(
began to (et go. #he fina((y too% the ris% of (etting me see
The Ris' o" !o%%it%ent *B,
her 'oetry. Then she was ab(e to gigg(e and (augh and
tease. Our re(ationshi', which had 'revious(y been stiff and
forma(, became warm, s'ontaneous and often (ight.hearted
and 8oyfu(. I never %new what it was (i%e to be re(a/ed with
another 'erson before, she said. This is the first '(ace in
my (ife I"ve ever fe(t secure. ;rom the security o" %y office
and our time together she was ra'id(y ab(e to venture forth
into other re(ationshi's. #he rea(iFed that se/ was not a
matter of commitment but one of se(f.e/'ression and '(ay
and e/'(oration and (earning and 8oyfu( abandonment.
Enowing that I wou(d a(.ways be avai(ab(e to her if she
became bruised, (i%e the good mother she had never had,
she was free to a((ow her se/ua(ity to burst forth. Her
frigidity me(ted. 9y the time she terminated thera'y in the
fourth year, Rache( had become a vivacious and o'en(y
'assionate 'erson who was busi(y en8oying a(( that human
re(ationshi's have to offer.
I was fortunate(y ab(e to offer Rache( a sufficient degree
of commitment to overcome the i(( effects of the (ac% of
commitment that she had never e/'erienced during her
chi(dhood. I have often been not so fortunate. The com'uter
technician I described in the first section as an e/am'(e of
transference was a case in 'oint. His need for commitment
from me was so tota( that I was not ab(e, or wi((ing, to meet
it. If the thera'ist"s commitment is insufficient to survive the
vicissitudes of the re(ationshi', basic hea(ing wi(( not occur.
However, if the thera'ist
"
s commitment is sufficient, then
usua((y.a(though not inevitab(y.the 'atient wi(( res'ond
sooner or (ater with a deve(o'ing commitment of his or her
own, a commitment to the thera'ist and to thera'y itse(f.
The 'oint at which the 'atient begins to demonstrate this
commitment is the turning 'oint of thera'y. ;or Rache(, I
thin% this 'oint came when she fina((y offered me her
'oetry. #trange(y, some 'atients may come to thera'y
faithfu((y two or three hours a wee% for years and yet never
reach this 'oint. Others may reach it within the first few
months. 9ut reach it they must if they are to be hea(ed. ;or
the thera'ist it is a wonderfu( moment of
*B- ?OD6
re(ief and 8oy when this 'oint is reached, for then he or she
%nows that the 'atient has assumed the ris% of commitment
to getting we(( and that therefore thera'y wi(( succeed.
The ris% of commitment to thera'y is not on(y the ris% of
commitment itse(f but a(so the ris% of se(f.confrontation and
change. In the 'revious section, in the discussion of the disci.
'(ine of dedication to the truth, I e(aborated on the difficu(ties
of changing one"s ma' of rea(ity, wor(d views and transfer.
ences. 7et changed they must be if one is to (ead a (ife of
(oving invo(ving fre>uent e/tensions of onese(f into new di.
mensions and territories of invo(vement. There come many
'oints on one
"
s 8ourney of s'iritua( growth, whether one is
a(one or has a 'sychothera'ist as guide, when one must ta%e
new and unfami(iar actions in consonance with one"s new
wor(d view. The ta%ing of such new action.behaving differ.
ent(y from the way one has a(ways behaved before.may
re'resent an e/traordinary 'ersona( ris%. The 'assive(y ho.
mose/ua( young man for the first time summons the initiative
to as% a gir( for a date: the 'erson who has never trusted
anyone (ies down for the first time on the ana(yst"s couch
a((owing the ana(yst to be hidden from his view: the 'revi.
ous(y de'endent housewife announces to her contro((ing hus.
band that she is obtaining a 8ob whether he (i%es it or not, that
she has her own (ife to (ive: the fifty.year.o(d mama"s boy
te((s his mother to sto' addressing him by his infanti(e
nic%name: the emotiona((y distant, seeming(y se(f.sufficient
strong man first a((ows himse(f to wee' in 'ub(ic: or Rache(
(ets go and cries for the first time in my office0 these
actions, and many more, invo(ve a ris% more 'ersona( and
therefore fre>uent(y more fearsome and frightening than that
of any so(dier entering batt(e. The so(dier cannot run because
the gun is 'ointed at his bac% as we(( as his front. 9ut the
individua( trying to grow can a(ways retreat into the easy and
fami(iar 'atterns of a more (imited 'ast.
It has been said that the successfu( 'sychothera'ist must
bring to the 'sychothera'eutic re(ationshi' the same courage
and the same sense of commitment as the 'atient. The
thera.
7Ehe Ri s' o" !o%%i t %ent *B+
'ist must a(so ris% change. Of a(( the good and usefu( ru(es of
'sychothera'y that I have been taught, there are very few
that I have not chosen to brea% at one time or another, not
out of (aFiness and (ac% of disci'(ine but rather in fear and
tremb(ing, because my 'atient"s thera'y seemed to re>uire
that, one way or another, I shou(d ste' out of the safety of
the 'rescribed ana(yst"s ro(e, be different and ris% the
unconventiona(. )s I (oo% bac% on every successfu( case I
have had I can see that at some 'oint or 'oints in each case
I had to (ay myse(f on the (ine. The wi((ingness of the
thera'ist to suffer at such moments is 'erha's the essence
of thera'y, and when 'erceived by the 'atient, as it usua((y
is, it is a(ways thera'eutic. It is a(so through this wi((ingness
to e/tend themse(ves and suffer with and over their 'atients
that thera'ists grow and change. )gain as I (oo% bac% on my
successfu( cases, there is not one that did not resu(t in some
very meaningfu(, often radica(, change in my attitudes and
'ers'ectives. It has to be this way. It is im'ossib(e to tru(y
understand another without ma%ing room for that 'erson
within yourse(f. This ma%ing room, which once again is the
disci'(ine of brac%eting, re.>uires an e/tension of and
therefore a changing of the se(f.
#o it is in good 'arenting as we(( as in good 'sychothera'y.
The same brac%eting and e/tension of ourse(ves is invo(ved
in (istening to our chi(dren. To res'ond to their hea(thy needs
we must change ourse(ves. On(y when we are wi((ing to
undergo the suffering of such changing can we become the
'arents our chi(dren need us to be. )nd since chi(dren are
constant(y growing and their needs are changing, we are
ob(iged to change and grow with them. 6veryone is fami(iar
with 'arents, for instance, who can dea( effective(y with their
chi(dren unti( the time of ado(escence, but who then become
tota((y ineffective as 'arents because they are unab(e to
change and ad8ust their attitudes toward their now o(der and
different chi(dren. )nd, as in a(( other instances of (ove, it
wou(d be incorrect to view the suffering and changing
invo(ved in good 'arenting as some %ind of se(f.sacrifice or
martyrdom: to the contrary, 'arents have more to gain from
the 'rocess than
*:- ?OD6
their chi(dren. $arents who are unwi((ing to ris% the suffering
of changing and growing and (earning from their chi(dren are
choosing a 'ath of seni(ity.whether they %now it or not.and
their chi(dren and the wor(d wi(( (eave them far behind.
?earning from their chi(dren is the best o''ortunity most
'eo'(e have to assure themse(ves of a meaningfu( o(d age.
#ad(y, most do not ta%e this o''ortunity.
The Ris' o" !on"rontation
The fina( and 'ossib(y the greatest ris% of (ove is the ris% of
e/ercising 'ower with humi(ity. The most common e/am'(e
of this is the act of (oving confrontation. <henever we con.
front someone we are in essence saying to that 'erson, 7ou
are wrong: I am right. <hen a 'arent confronts a chi(d,
saying, 7ou are being snea%y, the 'arent is saying in effect,
7our snea%iness is wrong. I have the right to criticiFe it
because I am not snea%y myse(f and I am right. <hen a
husband confronts a wife with her frigidity, he is saying,

7ou
are frigid, because it is wrong for you not to res'ond to me
se/ua((y with greater fervor, since I am se/ua((y ade>uate
and in other ways a(( right. 7ou have a se/ua( 'rob(em: I do
not. <hen a wife confronts a husband with her o'inion that
he does not s'end enough time with her and the chi(dren, she
is saying, 7our investment in your wor% is e/cessive and
wrong. Des'ite the fact that I do not have your 8ob, I can see
things more c(ear(y than you, and I right(y %now that it wou(d
be more 'ro'er for you to invest yourse(f different(y.

The
ca'acity to confront, to say I"m right, you"re wrong, you
shou(d be different, is one that many 'eo'(e have no diffi.
cu(ty e/ercising. $arents, s'ouses and 'eo'(e in various other
The Ris' o" !on"rontation *2*
ro(es do this routine(y and casua((y, (eve(ing criticism (eft and
right, shooting from the hi'. !ost such criticism and confron.
tation, usua((y made im'u(sive(y in anger or annoyance, does
more to increase the amount of confusion in the wor(d than
the amount of en(ightenment.
;or the tru(y (oving 'erson the act of criticism or confron.
tation does not come easi(y: to such a 'erson it is evident
that the act has great 'otentia( for arrogance. To confront
one"s be(oved is to assume a 'osition of mora( or inte((ectua(
su'eriority over the (oved one, at (east so far as the issue at
hand is concerned. 7et genuine (ove recogniFes and res'ects
the uni>ue individua(ity and se'arate identity of the other
'erson. 4I wi(( say more about this (ater.5 The tru(y (oving
'erson, va(uing the uni>ueness and differentness of his or her
be(oved, wi(( be re(uctant indeed to assume, I am right, you
are wrong: I %now better than you what is good for you. 9ut
the rea(ity of (ife is such that at times one 'erson does %now
better than the other what is good for the other, and in
actua(ity is in a 'osition of su'erior %now(edge or wisdom in
regard to the matter at hand. Under these circumstances the
wiser of the two does in fact have an ob(igation to confront
the other with the 'rob(em. The (oving 'erson, therefore, is
fre>uent(y in a di(emma, caught between a (oving res'ect for
the be(oved"s own 'ath in (ife and a res'onsibi(ity to e/ercise
(oving (eadershi' when the be(oved a''ears to need such
(eadershi'.
The di(emma can be reso(ved on(y by 'ainsta%ing se(f.
scrutiny, in which the (over e/amines stringent(y the worth
of his or her wisdom and the motives behind this need to
assume (eadershi'. Do I rea((y see things c(ear(y or am I
o'erating on mur%y assum'tions& Do I rea((y understand my
be(oved& Cou(d it not be that the 'ath my be(oved is ta%ing
is wise and that my 'erce'tion of it as unwise is the resu(t of
(imited vision on my 'art& )m I being se(f.serving in
be(ieving that my be(oved needs redirection& These are
>uestions that those who tru(y (ove must continua((y as%
themse(ves. This se(f.scrutiny, as ob8ective as 'ossib(e, is the
essence of humi(ity or mee%ness. In the words of an
anonymous fourteenth.century
*2@ ?OD6
9ritish mon% and s'iritua( teacher, !ee%ness in itse(f is noth.
ing e(se than a true %nowing and fee(ing of a man"s se(f as he
is. )ny man who tru(y sees and fee(s himse(f as he is must
sure(y be mee% indeed. H
There are, then, two ways to confront or criticiFe another
human being0 with instinctive and s'ontaneous certainty that
one is right, or with a be(ief that one is 'robab(y right arrived
at through scru'u(ous se(f.doubting and se(f.e/amination.
The first is the way of arrogance: it is the most common way
of 'arents, s'ouses, teachers and 'eo'(e genera((y in their
day.to.day affairs: it is usua((y unsuccessfu(, 'roducing more
resentment than growth and other effects that were not in.
tended. The second is the way of humi(ity: it is not common,
re>uiring as it does a genuine e/tension of onese(f: it is more
(i%e(y to be successfu(, and it is never, in my e/'erience,
destructive.
There are a significant number of individua(s who for one
reason or another have (earned to inhibit their instinctive ten.
dency to criticiFe or confront with s'ontaneous arrogance but
who go no farther, hiding in the mora( safety of mee%ness,
never daring to assume 'ower. One such was a minister and
father of a midd(e.aged 'atient who was suffering from a
(ife(ong de'ressive neurosis. !y 'atient"s mother was an
angry, vio(ent woman who dominated the househo(d with her
tem'er tantrums and mani'u(ations and not infre>uent(y beat
her husband 'hysica((y in front of the daughter. The minister
never fought bac% and counse(ed his daughter a(so to res'ond
to her mother by turning the other chee% and, in the name of
Christian charity, being unending(y submissive and res'ect.
fu(. <hen she began thera'y my 'atient revered her father
for his mi(dness and (ovingness. It was not very (ong, how.
ever, before she came to rea(iFe that his mee%ness was
wea%ness, and that in his 'assivity he had de'rived her of
ade>uate 'arenting every bit as much as her mother had with
her mean
& The !loud o" Fn'noing, trans. Ira $rogoff 4New 7or%0
Gu(ian $ress, 1676G, .. 62.
The Ris' o" !on"rontation *2A
se(f.centeredness. #he fina((y saw that he had done nothing to
'rotect her from her mother"s evi( and nothing, in fact, to
confront evi(, (eaving her no o'tion but to incor'orate her
mother"s bitter mani'u(ativeness a(ong with his 'seudo
humi(ity as ro(e mode(s. To fai( to confront when
confrontation is re>uired for the nurture of s'iritua( growth
re'resents a fai(ure to (ove e>ua((y as does thought(ess
criticism or condemnation and other forms of active
de'rivation of caring. If they (ove their chi(dren 'arents must,
s'aring(y and carefu((y 'erha's but nonethe(ess active(y,
confront and criticiFe them from time to time, 8ust as they
must a((ow their chi(dren to confront and criticiFe themse(ves
in turn. #imi(ar(y, (oving s'ouses must re'eated(y confront
each other if the marriage re(ationshi' is to serve the
function of 'romoting the s'iritua( growth of the 'artners. No
marriage can be 8udged tru(y" successfu( un(ess husband and
wife are each other"s best critics. The same ho(ds true for
friendshi'. There is a traditiona( conce't that friendshi'
shou(d be a conf(ict.free re(ationshi', a you scratch my bac%,
I"(( scratch yours

arrangement, re.(ying so(e(y on a mutua(

e/change of favors and com'(iments as 'rescribed by good
manners. #uch re(ationshi's are su'erficia( and intimacy.
avoiding and do not deserve the name of friendshi' which is
so common(y a''(ied to them. ;ortunate(y, there are signs
that our conce't of friendshi' is beginning to dee'en. !utua(
(oving confrontation is a significant 'art of a(( successfu( and
meaningfu( human re(ationshi's. <ithout it the re(ationshi' is
either unsuccessfu( or sha((ow.
To confront or criticiFe is a form of e/ercising (eadershi' or
'ower. The e/ercise of 'ower is nothing more and nothing
(ess than an attem't to inf(uence the course of events, human
or otherwise, by one"s actions in a conscious(y or uncon.
scious(y 'redetermined manner. <hen we confront or criticiFe
someone it is because we want to change the course of the
'erson"s (ife. It is obvious that there are many other, often
su'erior, ways to inf(uence the course of events than by
confrontation or criticism0 by e/am'(e, suggestion, 'arab(e,
reward and 'unishment, >uestioning, 'rohibition or 'ermis.
*2B ?OD6
sion, creation of e/'eriences, organiFing with others, and so
on. Do(umes can be written about the art of e/ercising 'ower.
;or our 'ur'oses, however, suffice it to say that (oving indi.
vidua(s must concern themse(ves with this art, for if one de.
sires to nurture another"s s'iritua( growth, then one must
concern onese(f with the most effective way to accom'(ish
this in any given instance. ?oving 'arents, for e/am'(e,
must first e/amine themse(ves and their va(ues stringent(y
before determining accurate(y that they %now what is best
for their chi(d. Then, having made this determination, they
a(so have to give greater thought to the chi(d"s character
and ca'acities before deciding whether the chi(d wou(d be
more (i%e(y to res'ond favorab(y to confrontation than to
'raise or increased attention or storyte((ing or some other
form of inf(uence. To confront someone with something he
or she cannot hand(e wi(( at best be a waste of time, and
(i%e(y wi(( have a de(eterious effect. If we want to be heard
we must s'ea% in a (anguage the (istener can understand and
on a (eve( at which the (istener is ca'ab(e of o'erating. If we
are to (ove we must e/tend ourse(ves to ad8ust our
communication to the ca'acities of our be(oved.
It is c(ear that e/ercising 'ower with (ove re>uires a great
dea( of wor%, but what is this about the ris% invo(ved& The
'rob(em is that the more (oving one is, the more humb(e
one is: yet the more humb(e one is, the more one is awed
by the 'otentia( for arrogance in e/ercising 'ower. <ho am I
to inf(uence the course of human events& 9y what authority
am I entit(ed to decide what is best for my chi(d, s'ouse, my
country or the human race& <ho gives me the right to dare
to be(ieve in my own understanding and then to 'resume to
e/ert my wi(( u'on the wor(d& <ho am I to '(ay =od& That is
the ris%. ;or whenever we e/ercise 'ower we are attem'ting
to inf(uence the course of the wor(d, of humanity, and we
are thereby '(aying =od. !ost 'arents, teachers, (eaders.
most of us who e/ercise 'ower.have no cogniFance of this.
In the arrogance of e/ercising 'ower without the tota( se(f.
awareness demanded by (ove, we are b(issfu((y but
destructive(y igno.
Love Is *isci.lined 155
rant of the fact that we are '(aying =od. 9ut those who tru(y
(ove, and therefore wor% for the wisdom that (ove re>uires,
%now that to act is to '(ay =od. 7et they a(so %now that there
is no a(ternative e/ce't inaction and im'otence. ?ove com'e(s
us to '(ay =od with fu(( consciousness of the enormity of the
fact that that is 8ust what we are doing. <ith this conscious.
ness the (oving 'erson assumes the res'onsibi(ity of attem't.
ing to be =od and not to care(ess(y '(ay =od, to fu(fi(( =od"s
wi(( without mista%e. <e arrive, then, at yet another 'arado/0
on(y out of the humi(ity of (ove can humans dare to be =od.
Love Is *isci.lined
I have indicated that the energy for the wor% of se(f.disci.
'(ine derives from (ove, which is a form of wi((. It fo((ows,
then, not on(y that se(f.disci'(ine is usua((y (ove, trans(ated
into action, but a(so that any genuine (over behaves with se(f.
disci'(ine and any genuine(y (oving re(ationshi' is a disci.
'(ined re(ationshi'. If I tru(y (ove another, I wi(( obvious(y
order my behavior in such a way as to contribute the utmost
to his or her s'iritua( growth. ) young, inte((igent, artistic and
bohemian cou'(e with whom I once attem'ted to wor% had
a four.year marriage mar%ed by a(most dai(y screaming, dish.
throwing and face.c(awing >uarre(s, a(ong with wee%(y casua(
infide(ity and month(y se'arations. #hort(y after we began
our wor% they each correct(y 'erceived that thera'y wou(d
(ead them toward increasing se(f.disci'(ine, and conse>uent(y
to a (ess disorder(y re(ationshi'. 9ut you want to ta%e the
'assion out of our re(ationshi', they said. 7our notions of
(ove and marriage (eave no room for 'assion. )(.most
immediate(y thereafter they >uit thera'y, and it has
*2C ?OD6
been re'orted to me that three years (ater, after severa(
bouts with other thera'ists, their dai(y screaming matches
and the chaotic 'attern of their marriage continue
unchanged, as we(( as the un'roductivity of their individua(
(ives. There is no doubt that their union is, in a certain
sense, a high(y co(orfu( one. 9ut it is (i%e the 'rimary co(ors
in the 'aintings of chi(dren, s'(ashed on the 'a'er with
abandon, occasiona((y not without charm, but genera((y
demonstrating the sameness that characteriFes the art of
young chi(dren. In the muted, contro((ed hues of Rembrandt
one can find the co(or, yet infinite(y more richness,
uni>ueness and meaning. $assion is fee(ing of great de'th.
The fact that a fee(ing is uncontro((ed is no indication
whatsoever that it is any dee'er than a fee(ing that is
disci'(ined. To the contrary, 'sychiatrists %now we(( the
truth of the o(d 'roverbs #ha((ow broo%s are noisy and
#ti(( waters run dee'. <e must not assume that someone
whose fee(ings are modu(ated and contro((ed is not a
'assion.ate 'erson.
<hi(e one shou(d not be a s(ave to one"s fee(ings, se(f.
disci'(ine does not mean the s>uashing of one"s fee(ings
into non.e/istence. I fre>uent(y te(( my 'atients that their
fee(ings are their s(aves and that the art of se(f.disci'(ine is
(i%e the art of s(ave.owning. ;irst of a((, one"s fee(ings are
the source of one"s energy: they 'rovide the horse'ower, or
s(ave 'ower, that ma%es it 'ossib(e for us to accom'(ish the
tas%s of (iving. #ince they wor% for us, we shou(d treat them
with res'ect. There are two common mista%es that s(ave.
owners can ma%e which re'resent o''osite and e/treme
forms of e/ecutive (eadershi'. One ty'e of s(ave.owner
does not disci'(ine his s(aves, gives them no structure, sets
them no (imits, 'rovides them with no direction and does
not ma%e it c(ear who is the boss. <hat ha''ens, of course,
is that in due time his s(aves sto' wor%ing and begin moving
into the mansion, raiding the (i>uor cabinet and brea%ing
the furniture, and soon the s(ave.owner finds that he is the
s(ave of his s(aves, (iving in the same %ind of chaos as the
aforementioned character.disordered bohemian cou'(e.
Love Is *isci.lined *2,
7et the o''osite sty(e of (eadershi', which the gui(t.ridden
neurotic so often e/erts over his fee(ings, is e>ua((y se(f.
destructive. In this sty(e the s(ave.owner is so obsessed with
the fear that his s(aves 4fee(ings5 might get out of contro( and
so determined that they shou(d cause him no troub(e that he
routine(y beats them into submission and 'unishes them se.
vere(y at the first sign of any 'otency. The resu(t of this sty(e
is that in re(ative(y short order the s(aves become (ess and (ess
'roductive as their wi(( is sa''ed by the harsh treatment they
receive. Or e(se their wi(( turns more and more toward covert
rebe((ion. If the 'rocess is carried out (ong enough, one night
the owner"s 'rediction fina((y comes true and the s(aves rise
u' and burn down the mansion, fre>uent(y with the owner
inside. #uch is the genesis of certain 'sychoses and over.
whe(ming neuroses. The 'ro'er management of one"s
fee(ings c(ear(y (ies a(ong a com'(e/ 4and therefore not
sim'(e or easy5 ba(anced midd(e 'ath, re>uiring constant
8udgment and continuing ad8ustment. Here the owner treats
his fee(ings 4s(aves5 with res'ect, nurturing them with good
food, she(ter and medica( care, (istening and res'onding to
their voices, encouraging them, in>uiring as to their hea(th,
yet a(so organiFing them, (imiting them, deciding c(ear(y
between them, redirecting them and teaching them, a(( the
whi(e (eaving no doubt as to who is the boss. This is the 'ath
of hea(thy se(f.disci'(ine.
)mong the fee(ings that must be so disci'(ined is the fee(ing
of (ove. )s I have indicated, this is not in itse(f genuine (ove
but the fee(ing associated with cathe/is. It is to be very much
res'ected and nurtured for the creative energy it brings, but
if it is a((owed to run ram'ant, the resu(t wi(( not be genuine
(ove but confusion and un'roductivity. 9ecause genuine (ove
invo(ves an e/tension of onese(f, vast amounts of energy are
re>uired and, (i%e it or not, the store of our energy is as (imited
as the hours of our day. <e sim'(y cannot (ove everyone.
True, we may have a fee(ing of (ove for man%ind, and this
fee(ing may a(so be usefu( in 'roviding us with enough
energy to manifest genuine (ove for a few s'ecific individua(s.
9ut genuine (ove for a re(ative(y few individua(s is a(( that is
within
our 'ower. To attem't to e/ceed the (imits of our energy is
to offer more than we can de(iver, and there is a 'oint of no
return beyond which an attem't to (ove a(( comers becomes
fraudu(ent and harmfu( to the very ones we desire to assist.
Conse>uent(y if we are fortunate enough to be in a 'osition
in which many 'eo'(e as% for our attention, we must choose
those among them whom we are actua((y to (ove. This choice
is not easy: it may be e/cruciating(y 'ainfu(, as the assum'.
tion of god(i%e 'ower so often is. 9ut it must be made. !any
factors need to be considered, 'rimari(y the ca'acity of a
'ros'ective reci'ient of our (ove to res'ond to that (ove with
s'iritua( growth. $eo'(e differ in this ca'acity, a fact to which
more e/amination wi(( (ater be given. It is, however, un>ues.
tionab(e that there are many whose s'irits are so (oc%ed in
behind im'enetrab(e armor that even the greatest efforts to
nurture the growth of those s'irits are doomed to a(most cer.
tain fai(ure. To attem't to (ove someone who cannot benefit
from your (ove with s'iritua( growth is to waste your energy,
to cast your seed u'on arid ground. =enuine (ove is 'recious,
and those who are ca'ab(e of genuine (ove %now that their
(oving must be focused as 'roductive(y as 'ossib(e through
se(f.disci'(ine.
The converse of the 'rob(em of (oving too many 'eo'(e a(so
needs to be e/amined. It is 'ossib(e for some 'eo'(e, at
(east, to (ove more than one 'erson at the same time, to
simu(taneous(y maintain a number of genuine(y (oving
re(ationshi's. This itse(f is a 'rob(em for severa( reasons.
One reason is the )merican or <estern myth of romantic (ove
that suggests that certain 'eo'(e are meant for each other:
thus, by e/tra'o(ation, they are not meant for anyone e(se.
The myth, there.fore, 'rescribes e/c(usivity for (oving
re(ationshi's, most 'articu(ar(y se/ua( e/c(usivity. On
ba(ance, the myth is 'robab(y he('fu( in contributing to the
stabi(ity and 'roductivity of human re(ationshi's, since the
vast ma8ority of human beings are cha((enged to the (imit of
their ca'acities to e/tend themse(ves to deve(o' genuine(y
(oving re(ationshi's with their s'ouses and chi(dren a(one.
Indeed, if one can say that
Love Is *isci.lined *2+
one has bui(t genuine(y (oving re(ationshi's with a s'ouse and
chi(dren, then one has a(ready succeeded in accom'(ishing
more than most 'eo'(e accom'(ish in a (ifetime. There is
fre>uent(y something 'athetic about the individua( who has
fai(ed to bui(d his fami(y into a (oving unit, yet rest(ess(y
searches for (oving re(ationshi's outside the fami(y. The first
ob(igation of a genuine(y (oving 'erson wi(( a(ways be to his
or her marita( and 'arenta( re(ationshi's. Nonethe(ess, there
are some whose ca'acity to (ove is great enough for them to
bui(d (oving re(ationshi's successfu((y within the fami(y and
sti(( have energy (eft for additiona( re(ationshi's. ;or these the
myth of e/c(usivity is not on(y 'atent(y fa(se, but a(so re're.
sents an unnecessary (imitation u'on their ca'acity to give of
themse(ves to others outside their fami(y. It is 'ossib(e for this
(imitation to be overcome, but great se(f.disci'(ine is re>uired
in the e/tension of onese(f in order to avoid s'reading onese(f
too thin. It was to this e/traordinari(y com'(e/ issue 4here
touched on(y in 'assing5 that Gose'h ;(etcher, the 6'isco'a.
(ian theo(ogian and author of The /e 5orality, was
addressing himse(f when he re'orted(y said to a friend of
mine, ;ree (ove is an idea(. Unfortunate(y, it is an idea( of
which very few of us are ca'ab(e. <hat he meant was that
very few of us have a ca'acity for se(f.disci'(ine great enough
to maintain constructive re(ationshi's that are genuine(y
(oving both in.side and outside the fami(y. ;reedom and
disci'(ine are in.deed handmaidens: without the disci'(ine of
genuine (ove, freedom is invariab(y non(oving and
destructive.
9y this time some readers may fee( saturated by the
conce't of disci'(ine and conc(ude that I am advocating a
sty(e of (ife of Ca(vinistic dreariness. Constant se(f.disci'(ine1
Constant se(f.e/amination1 Duty1 Res'onsibi(ity1
Neo'uritanism, they might ca(( it. Ca(( it what you wi((,
genuine (ove, with a(( the disci'(ine that it re>uires, is the
on(y 'ath in this (ife to substantia( 8oy. Ta%e another 'ath and
you may find rare moments of ecstatic 8oy, but they wi(( be
f(eeting and 'rogressive(y more e(usive. <hen I genuine(y
(ove I am e/.tending myse(f, and when I am e/tending myse(f
I am grow.
**3 LOE
ing. The more I (ove, the (onger I (ove, the (arger I become.
=enuine (ove is se(f.re'(enishing. The more I nurture the
s'iritua( growth of others, the more my own s'iritua( growth
is nurtured. I am a tota((y se(fish human being. I never do
something for somebody e(se but that I do it for myse(f. )nd
as I grow through (ove, so grows my 8oy, ever more 'resent,
ever more constant. Neo'uritan 'erha's I am. I am a(so a 8oy
frea%. )s Gohn Denver sings0
Love is everyhere, I see it.
1ou are all that you can $e, go on and
$e it. Li"e is .er"ect, I $elieve it.
!o%e and .lay the ga%e ith %e. &
Love Is +e.arateness
)(though the act of nurturing another"s s'iritua( growth has
the effect of nurturing one"s own, a ma8or characteristic of
genuine (ove is that the distinction between onese(f and the
other is a(ways maintained and 'reserved. The genuine (over
a(ways 'erceives the be(oved as someone who has a tota((y
se'arate identity. !oreover, the genuine (over a(ways re.
s'ects and even encourages this se'arateness and the uni>ue
individua(ity of the be(oved. ;ai(ure to 'erceive and res'ect
this se'arateness is e/treme(y common, however, and the
cause of much menta( i((ness and unnecessary suffering.
H ?ove Is 6verywhere.

by Gohn Denver, Goe Henry,

#teve <eis.berg and Gohn !artin #ommers, co'yright O
*+,2 Cherry ?ane !usic Co. Used by 'ermission.
Love Is +e.arateness *C*
In its most e/treme form the fai(ure to 'erceive the se'a.
rateness of the other is ca((ed narcissism. ;ran%(y narcissistic
individua(s are actua((y unab(e to 'erceive their chi(dren,
s'ouses or friends as being se'arate from themse(ves on an
emotiona( (eve(. The first time I began to understand what
narcissism is a(( about was during an interview with the 'ar.
ents of a schiFo'hrenic 'atient whom I wi(( ca(( #usan P.
#usan at the time was thirty.one. #ince the age of eighteen
she had made a number of serious suicide attem'ts, and had
had to be hos'ita(iFed a(most continua((y in a variety of hos.
'ita(s and sanatoria for the 'revious thirteen years.
However, (arge(y because of su'erior 'sychiatric care that
she had received from other 'sychiatrists during these years
she was fina((y beginning to im'rove. ;or some months
during our wor% together she had demonstrated an
increasing ca'acity to trust trustworthy 'eo'(e, to
distinguish between trustworthy and untrustworthy 'eo'(e,
to acce't the fact that she had a schiFo'hrenic i((ness and
wou(d need to e/ert a great dea( of se(f.disci'(ine for the rest
of her (ife to dea( with this i((ness, to res'ect herse(f, and to
do what was necessary to care for herse(f without having to
re(y on others to continua((y nurture her. 9ecause of this
great 'rogress I fe(t the moment was soon at hand when
#usan wou(d be ab(e to (eave the hos'ita( and for the first
time in her (ife (ead and maintain a successfu( inde'endent
e/istence. It was at this 'oint that I met with her 'arents, an
attractive, wea(thy cou'(e in their mid.fifties. I was very
ha''y to describe to them #usan"s enormous 'rogress and
e/'(ain in detai( the reasons for my o'timism. 9ut much to
my sur'rise, soon after I began to do this, #usan"s mother
started to cry si(ent(y and continued to cry as I went on with
my ho'efu( message. )t first I thought 'erha's her tears
were tears of 8oy, but it was c(ear from her e/'ression that
she was indeed fee(ing sad. ;ina((y I said, I"m 'uFF(ed, !rs.
P. I"ve been te((ing you things today that are most ho'efu(,
yet you seem to be fee(ing sad.
Of course I"m sad, she re'(ied. I ,8ust can"t he(' crying
when I thin% of a(( 'oor #usan has to suffer.
*C@ ?OD6
I then went into a (engthy e/'(anation to the effect that
whi(e it was >uite true #usan had suffered a good dea( in the
course of her i((ness, she had a(so c(ear(y (earned a good dea(
from this suffering, had come out on to' of it and, in my
estimation, was un(i%e(y to suffer any more in the future than
any other adu(t. Indeed, she might suffer considerab(y (ess
than any of us because of the wisdom she had gained from
her batt(e with schiFo'hrenia. !rs. P. continued to wee'
si(ent(y.
;ran%(y, I"m sti(( 'uFF(ed, !rs. P., I said. Over the 'ast
thirteen years you must have 'artici'ated in at (east a doFen
conferences (i%e this with #usan"s 'sychiatrists, and from what
I %now, none of them was as o'timistic as this one. Don"t you
fee( g(adness as we(( as sadness&
I can on(y thin% of how difficu(t (ife is for #usan, !rs. P.
re'(ied tearfu((y.
?oo%, !rs. P., I said, is there anything I cou(d say to you
about #usan that wou(d ma%e you fee( encouraged and ha''y
about her&
$oor #usan"s (ife is so fu(( of 'ain, !rs. P. whim'ered.
#udden(y I rea(iFed that !rs. P. was not crying for #usan but
for herse(f. #he was crying for her own 'ain and suffering. 7et
the conference was about #usan, not about her, and she was
doing her crying in #usan"s name. How cou(d she do this, I
wondered. )nd then I rea(iFed that !rs. P. was actua((y not
ab(e to distinguish between #usan and herse(f. <hat she fe(t,
#usan must fee(. #he was using #usan as a vehic(e to e/'ress
her own needs. #he was not doing this conscious(y or
ma(icious(y: on an emotiona( (eve( she cou(d not, in fact,
'erceive #usan as having an identity se'arate from her own.
#usan was she. In her mind #usan as a uni>ue, different
individua( with a uni>ue, different 'ath in (ife sim'(y did not
e/ist.nor, 'robab(y, did anyone e(se. Inte((ectua((y !rs. P.
cou(d recogniFe other 'eo'(e as being different from herse(f.
9ut on a more basic (eve( other 'eo'(e did not e/ist for her. In
the de'ths of her mind the entirety of the wor(d was she, !rs.
P., she a(one.
Love Is +e.arateness *CA
In subse>uent e/'eriences I fre>uent(y found the mothers
of schiFo'hrenic chi(dren to be e/traordinari(y narcissistic in.
dividua(s (i%e !rs. P. This is not to say that such mothers are
a(ways narcissistic or that narcissistic mothers can"t raise
non.schiFo'hrenic chi(dren. #chiFo'hrenia is an e/treme(y
com'(e/ disorder, with obvious genetic as we(( as
environmenta( determinants. 9ut one can imagine the de'th
of confusion in #usan"s chi(dhood 'roduced by her mother"s
narcissism, and one can ob8ective(y see this confusion when
actua((y observing narcissistic mothers interact with their
chi(dren. On an after.noon when !rs. P. was fee(ing sorry for
herse(f #usan might have come home from schoo( bringing
some of her 'aintings the teacher had graded ). If she to(d
her mother 'roud(y how she was 'rogressing in art, !rs. P.
might we(( res'ond0 #usan, go ta%e a na'. 7ou shou(dn"t
get yourse(f so e/hausted over your wor% in schoo(. The
schoo( system is no good anymore. They don"t care for
chi(dren anymore. On the other hand, on an afternoon
when !rs. P. was in a very cheerfu( mood #usan might have
come home in tears over the fact that she had been bu((ied
by severa( boys on the schoo( bus, and !rs. P. cou(d say0
Isn"t it fortunate that !r. Gones is such a good bus driver&
He is so nice and 'atient with a(( you chi(dren and your
roughhousing. I thin% you shou(d be sure to give him a nice
(itt(e 'resent at Christmastime. #ince they do not 'erceive
others as others but on(y as e/tensions of themse(ves,
narcissistic individua(s (ac% the ca'acity for em'athy, which
is the ca'acity to fee( what another is fee(ing. ?ac%ing
em'athy, narcissistic 'arents usua((y res'ond ina'.
'ro'riate(y to their chi(dren on an emotiona( (eve( and fai( to
offer any recognition or verification of their chi(dren"s fee(.
ings. It is no wonder, then, that such chi(dren grow u' with
grave difficu(ties in recogniFing, acce'ting and hence
managing their own fee(ings.
<hi(e not usua((y as narcissistic as !rs. P., the vast ma8or.
ity of 'arents fai( in some degree to ade>uate(y recogniFe or
fu((y a''reciate the uni>ue individua(ity or otherness of
their chi(dren. Common e/am'(es abound. $arents wi(( say
*CB ?OD6
of a chi(d, He"s a chi' off the o(d b(oc% or to a chi(d, 7ou"re
8ust (i%e your Unc(e Gim,

as if their chi(dren are some genetic

co'y of themse(ves or the fami(y, when the facts of genetic
combinations are such that a(( chi(dren genetica((y are e/.
treme(y different from either of their 'arents and a(( of their
forebears. )th(etic fathers 'ush their scho(ar(y sons into foot.
ba(( and scho(ar(y fathers 'ush their ath(etic sons into boo%s,
causing the sons much unnecessary gui(t and turmoi(. ) gen.
era("s wife com'(ains about her seventeen.year.o(d daughter0
<hen she"s home, #a((y sits in her room a(( the time writing
sad 'oetry. It"s morbid, Doctor. )nd she abso(ute(y refuses to
have a coming.out 'arty. I"m afraid that she"s serious(y i((.
)fter interviewing #a((y, a charming and vivacious young
woman who is on the honor ro(( at schoo( and has (ots of
friends, I te(( her 'arents that I thin% #a((y is 'erfect(y hea(thy
and suggest that 'erha's they shou(d (essen their 'ressure on
her to be a carbon co'y of themse(ves. They (eave to (oo% for
another 'sychiatrist, one who might be wi((ing to 'ronounce
#a((y"s differences deviancies.
)do(escents fre>uent(y com'(ain that they are disci'(ined
not out of genuine concern but because of 'arenta( fear that
they wi(( give their 'arents a bad image. !y 'arents are
continua((y after me to cut my hair, ado(escent boys used to
say a few years ago. They can"t e/'(ain why (ong hair is bad
for me. They 8ust don"t want other 'eo'(e to see they"ve got
(ong.haired %ids. They don"t rea((y give a shit about me. )((
they are rea((y caring about is their own image. #uch ado(es.
cent resentment is usua((y 8ustified. Their 'arents genera((y
do in fact fai( to a''reciate the uni>ue individua(ity of their
chi(dren, and instead regard their chi(dren as e/tensions of
themse(ves, in much the same way as their fine c(othes and
their neat(y manicured (awns and their 'o(ished cars are e/.
tensions of themse(ves which re'resent their status to the
wor(d. It is to these mi(der but nonethe(ess destructive com.
mon forms of 'arenta( narcissism that Eah(i( =ibran addresses
himse(f in what are 'erha's the finest words ever written
about chi(d.raising0
Love Is +e.arateness *C2
1our children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters o" Li"e8s
longing "or itsel".
They co%e through you $ut not "ro% you,
And though they are ith you they $elong not to
you.
1ou %ay give the% your love $ut not your
thoughts, ,or they have their on thoughts.
1ou %ay house their $odies $ut not their souls,
,or their souls dell in the house o" to%orro,
hich you cannot visit, not even in your
drea%s.
1ou %ay strive to $e li'e the%, $ut see' not to
%a'e the% li'e you.
,or li"e goes not $ac'ard nor tarries ith
yesterday. 1ou are the $o "ro% hich your
children as living arros are sent "orth.
The archer sees the %ar' u.on the .ath o" the
in"inite, and 2e $ends you ith 2is %ight that
2is arro %ay go si"t and "ar.
Let your $ending in the archer8s hand $e "or
gladness=
,or even as 2e loves the arro that "lies, so 2e
loves also the $o that is sta$le. &
The difficu(ty that humans so genera((y seem to have in
fu((y a''reciating the se'arateness of those who they are
c(ose to interferes not on(y with their 'arenting but with a((
their intimate re(ationshi's, inc(uding marriage. Not too (ong
ago in a cou'(es grou' I heard one of the members state that
the 'ur'ose and function of his wife was to %ee' their
house neat and him we(( fed. I was aghast at what seemed to
me his 'ainfu((y b(atant ma(e chauvinism. I thought I might
demonstrate this to him by as%ing the other members of the
grou' to state how they 'erceived the 'ur'ose and function
of their s'ouses. To my horror the si/ others, ma(e and
fema(e a(i%e, gave very simi(ar answers. )(( of them defined
the 'ur'ose and function of their husbands or wives in
reference to them.
& The Prophet (Ne! "or#$ %lfred ). Eno'f, *+2*5, ''.
*,.*-.
*CC ?OD6
se(ves: a(( of them fai(ed to 'erceive that their own mates
might have an e/istence basica((y se'arate from their own or
any %ind of destiny a'art from their marriage. =ood grief, I
e/c(aimed, it"s no wonder that you are a(( having difficu(ties
in your marriages, and you"(( continue to have difficu(ties unti(
you come to recogniFe that each of you has your own
se'arate destiny to fu(fi((. The grou' fe(t not on(y chastised
but 'rofound(y confused by my 'ronouncement. #omewhat
be((igerent(y they as%ed me to define the 'ur'ose and
function of my wife. The 'ur'ose and function of ?i(y, I
res'onded, is to grow to be the most of which she is
ca'ab(e, not for my benefit but for her own and to the g(ory
of =od. The conce't remained a(ien to them for some time,
however.
The 'rob(em of se'arateness in c(ose re(ationshi's has be.
devi(ed man%ind through the ages. However, it has received
more attention from a 'o(itica( stand'oint than from a
marita( one. $ure communism, for instance, e/'resses a
'hi(oso'hy not un(i%e that of the aforementioned cou'(es.
name(y, that the 'ur'ose and function of the individua( is to
serve the re(ationshi', the grou', the co((ective, the society.
On(y the destiny of the state is considered: the destiny of the
individua( is be(ieved to be of no conse>uence. $ure
ca'ita(ism, on the other hand, es'ouses the destiny of the
individua( even when it is at the e/'ense of the re(ationshi',
the grou', the co((ective, the society. <idows and or'hans
may starve, but this shou(d not 'revent the individua(
entre'reneur from en8oying a(( the fruits of his or her
individua( initiative. It shou(d he obvious to any discerning
mind that neither of these 'ure so(utions to the 'rob(em of
se'arateness within re(ationshi's wi(( be successfu(. The
individua("s hea(th de'ends u'on the hea(th of the society:
the hea(th of the society de'ends u'on the hea(th of its
individua(s. <hen dea(ing with cou'(es my wife and I draw
the ana(ogy between marriage and a base cam' for
mountain c(imbing. If one wants to c(imb mountains one
must have a good base cam', a '(ace where there are
she(ters and 'rovisions, where one may receive nurture and
rest before one ventures forth again to see% another summit.
Love Is +e.arateness *C,
#uccessfu( mountain c(imbers %now that they must s'end at
(east as much time, if not more, in tending to their base
cam' as they actua((y do in c(imbing mountains, for their
surviva( is de'endent u'on their seeing to it that their base
cam' is sturdi(y constructed and we(( stoc%ed.
) common and traditiona((y mascu(ine marita( 'rob(em is
created by the husband who, once he is married, devotes a((
his energies to c(imbing mountains and none to tending to
his marriage, or base cam', e/'ecting it to be there in
'erfect order whenever he chooses to return to it for rest
and recreation without his assuming any res'onsibi(ity for
its maintenance. #ooner or (ater this ca'ita(ist a''roach to
the 'rob(em fai(s and he returns to find his untended base
cam' a shamb(es, his neg(ected wife having been
hos'ita(iFed for a nervous brea%down, having run off with
another man, or in some other way having renounced her
8ob as cam' careta%er. )n e>ua((y common and traditiona((y
feminine marita( 'rob(em is created by the wife who, once
she is married, fee(s that the goa( of her (ife has been
achieved. To her the base cam' is the 'ea%. #he cannot
understand or em'athiFe with her husband"s need for
achievements and e/'eriences beyond the marriage and
reacts to them with 8ea(ousy and never.ending demands
that he devote increasing(y more energy to the home. ?i%e
other communist reso(utions of the 'rob(em, this one
creates a re(ationshi' that is suffocating and stu(tifying,
from which the husband, fee(ing tra''ed and (imited, may
(i%e(y f(ee in a moment of mid.(ife crisis. The women"s
(iberation movement has been he('fu( in 'ointing the way to
what is obvious(y the on(y idea( reso(ution0 marriage as a
tru(y coo'erative institution, re>uiring great mutua(
contributions and care, time and energy, but e/isting for the
'rimary 'ur'ose of nurturing each of the 'artici'ants for
individua( 8ourneys toward his or her own individua( 'ea%s of
s'iritua( growth. !a(e and fema(e both must tend the hearth
and both must venture forth.
)s an ado(escent I used to thri(( to the words of (ove the ear(y
)merican 'oet )nn 9radstreet s'o%e to her husband0
*B) ?OD6
If ever two were one, then we. H )s I have grown, however,
I have come to rea(iFe that it is the se'arateness of the
'artners that enriches the union. =reat marriages cannot be
constructed by individua(s who are terrified by their basic
a(oneness, as so common(y is the case, and see% a merging
in marriage. =enuine (ove not on(y res'ects the individua(ity
of the other but actua((y see%s to cu(tivate it, even at the ris%
of se'aration or (oss. The u(timate goa( of (ife remains the
s'iritua( growth of the individua(, the so(itary 8ourney to
'ea%s that can be c(imbed on(y a(one. #ignificant 8ourneys
cannot be accom'(ished without the nurture 'rovided by a
successfu( marriage or a successfu( society. !arriage and
society e/ist for the basic 'ur'ose of nurturing such
individua( 8ourneys. 9ut, as is the case with a(( genuine (ove,
sacrifices on beha(f of the growth of the other resu(t in
e>ua( or greater growth of the se(f. It is the return of the
individua( to the nurturing marriage or society from the 'ea%s
he or she has trave(ed a(one which serves to e(evate that
marriage or that society to new heights. In this way
individua( growth and societa( growth are interde'endent,
but it is a(ways and inevitab(y (one(y out on the growing
edge. It is from the (one(iness of his wisdom that once again
the 'ro'het of Eah(i( =ibran s'ea%s to us concerning
marriage0
9ut let there $e s.aces in your togetherness,
And let the inds o" the heavens dance $eteen you
Love one another, $ut %a'e not a $ond o"
love3 Let it rather $e a %oving sea $eteen
the shores o" your souls.
,ill each other8s cu. $ut drin' not "ro% one cu..
(ive one another o" your $read $ut eat not "ro%
the sa%e loa"
H To !y Dear and ?oving Husband,

*C,-, contained in The

Literature o" the Fnited +tates, <a(ter 9(air et al., eds.
4=(enview, I((.0 #cott, ;oresman, *+2A5, '. *2+.
Love and Psychothera.y *C+
+ing and dance together and $e Coyous,
$ut let each one o" you $e alone,
Even as the strings o" a lute are alone though
they Duiver ith the sa%e %usic.
(ive your hearts, $ut not into each other8s
'ee.ing. ,or only the hand o" Li"e can contain
your hearts. And stand together yet not too
near together3 ,or the .illars o" the te%.le
stand a.art,
And the oa' tree and the cy.ress gro
not in each other8s shado. &
Love and Psychothera.y
It is hard for me to reca'ture now the motivation and un.
derstanding with which I entered the fie(d of 'sychiatry fifteen
years ago. Certain(y I wanted to he(' 'eo'(e. The 'rocess of
he('ing 'eo'(e in the other branches of medicine invo(ved
techno(ogy with which I was uncomfortab(e and which in other
ways seemed too mechanica( to suit my tastes. I a(so found
ta(%ing to 'eo'(e more fun than 'o%ing and 'rod.ding them,
and the >uir%s of the human mind seemed inherent(y more
interesting to me than the >uir%s of the body or the germs
infesting it. I had no idea how 'sychiatrists he('ed 'eo'(e,
e/ce't for the fantasy that 'sychiatrists were the 'ossessors
of magica( words and magica( techni>ues of interacting with
'atients which wou(d magica((y unscramb(e the %nots of the
'syche. $erha's I wanted to be a magician. I had very (itt(e
notion that the wor% invo(ved wou(d have something to do
with the s'iritua( growth of 'atients, and certain(y I had
& The Pro.het, ''. *2.*C.
*,3 ?OD6
no notion whatsoever that it wou(d invo(ve my own s'iritua(
growth.
During my first ten months of training I wor%ed with high(y
disturbed in'atients who seemed to benefit much more from
'i((s or shoc% treatments or good nursing care than they did
from me, but I (earned the traditiona( magica( words and
techni>ues of interaction. )fter this 'eriod I began to see
my first neurotic 'atient for (ong.term out'atient
'sychothera'y. ?et me ca(( her !arcia. !arcia came to see
me three times a wee%. It was a rea( strugg(e. #he wou(dn"t
ta(% about the things I wanted her to ta(% about, and she
wou(dn"t ta(% about them in the way I wanted, and
sometimes she 8ust wou(dn
"
t ta(% at a((. In some ways our
va(ues were >uite different: in the strugg(e she came to
modify hers somewhat and I came to modify mine
somewhat. 9ut the strugg(e continued des'ite my
storehouse of magica( words and techni>ues and 'ostures,
and there was no sign that !arcia was im'roving. Indeed,
short(y after she started to see me she began a 'attern of
a(most outrageous 'romiscuity, and for months she
recounted unabated(y innumerab(e incidents of bad
behavior. ;ina((y, after a year of this, she as%ed me in the
midd(e of a session, Do you thin% I"m a bit of a shit&

7ou seem to be as%ing me to te(( you what I thin% of you,

I re'(ied, bri((iant(y sta((ing for time.
That was e/act(y what she wanted, she said. 9ut what did
I do now& <hat magica( words or techni>ues or 'ostures
cou(d he(' me& I cou(d say, <hy do you as% that& or <hat
are your fantasies about what I thin% of you& or <hat"s
im'ortant, !arcia, is not what I thin% of you but what you
thin% of yourse(f. 7et I had an over'owering fee(ing that
these gambits were co'.outs, and that after a who(e year of
seeing me three times a wee% the (east !arcia was entit(ed
to was an honest answer from me as to what I thought of
her. 9ut for this I had no 'recedent: te((ing a 'erson
honest(y face to face what you thin% of him or her was not
one of the magica( words or techni>ues that any of my
'rofessors had taught me. It was an interaction that had
never been sug.
Love and Psychothera.y 171
9ested or recommended in my training: the very fact that it
had not been mentioned indicated to me that it was an inter.
action that was disa''roved of, a situation that any
re'utab(e 'sychiatrist wou(d not a((ow himse(f to fa(( into.
How to act& <ith my heart 'ounding I went out on what
seemed to be a very sha%y (imb indeed.

!arcia, I said, you

have been seeing me now for over a year. During this (ong
'eriod of time things have not gone smooth(y for us. !uch of
the time we have been strugg(ing, and the strugg(e has often
been boring or nerve.wrac%ing or angry for both of us. 7et
des'ite this you have continued to come bac% to see me at
considerab(e effort and inconvenience to you, session after
session, wee% after wee%, month after month. 7ou wou(dn"t
have been ab(e to do this un(ess you were the %ind of 'erson
who is determined to grow and wi((ing to wor% very hard at
ma%ing yourse(f a better 'erson. I do not thin% I wou(d fee(
that someone who wor%s as hard on herse(f as you do is a bit
of a shit. #o the answer is, No, I do not thin% you are a bit of
a shit. In fact, I admire you a great dea(.
;rom among her doFens of (overs !arcia immediate(y
'ic%ed one and estab(ished a meaningfu( re(ationshi' with him
which eventua((y (ed to a high(y successfu( and satisfying
marriage. #he was never again 'romiscuous. #he
immediate(y began to s'ea% about the good things in
herse(f. The sense of un'roductive strugg(e between us
instant(y vanished, and our wor% became f(uent and 8oyfu(,
with incredib(y ra'id 'rogress. #trange(y, my going out on a
(imb by revea(ing my genuine(y 'ositive fee(ings for her.
something I fe(t I was rea((y not su''osed to do.rather than
seeming to hurt her, a''arent(y was of great thera'eutic
benefit and c(ear(y re'resented the turning 'oint in our wor%
together.
<hat does this mean& Does it mean that a(( we have to do
to 'ractice successfu( 'sychothera'y is to te(( our 'atients
that we thin% we(( of them& Hard(y. ;irst of a((, it is
necessary to be honest in thera'y at a(( times. I honest(y did
admire and (i%e !arcia. #econd, my admiration and (i%ing
was of rea( significance to her 'recise(y because of the
(ength of time I
*,@ ?OD6
had %nown her and the de'th of our e/'eriences in thera'y.
In fact, the essence of this turning 'oint did not even have to
do with my (i%ing and admiration: it had to do with the nature
of our re(ationshi'.
) simi(ar(y dramatic turning 'oint came in the thera'y of a
young woman I wi(( ca(( He(en, whom I had been seeing twice
wee%(y for nine months with a noticeab(e (ac% of success and
for whom I did not yet have much 'ositive fee(ing. Indeed,
after a(( that time I did not even have much of a fee(ing of who
He(en was at a((. I had never before seen a 'atient for such a
(ength of time without having gained some idea of who the
individua( was and the nature of the 'rob(em to be reso(ved. I
was tota((y confused by her and had s'ent the better 'art of
severa( nights attem'ting without any success whatsoever to
ma%e some sense out of the case. )bout a(( that was c(ear to
me was that He(en did not trust me. #he was vociferous in
her com'(aints that I did not genuine(y care for her in any
way, sha'e or form and was interested on(y in her money.
#he was ta(%ing in this fashion during one session, after nine
months of thera'y0 7ou cannot imagine, Dr. $ec%, how frus.
trating it is for me to attem't to communicate with you when
you are so uninterested in me and therefore so ob(ivious to
my fee(ings.

He(en, I re'(ied, it seems to be frustrating for both of us.

I don"t %now how this wi(( ma%e you fee(, but you are the
sing(e most frustrating case I have ever had in a decade of
'racticing 'sychothera'y. I have never met anyone with
whom I have made (ess headway in so (ong a time. $erha's
you are right in be(ieving that I am not the right 'erson to
wor% with you. I don
"
t %now. I don
"
t want to give u', but I sure
as he(( am 'uFF(ed about you, and I wonder unti( I"m a(most
craFy as to what the he(( is wrong in our wor% together.
) g(owing smi(e came over He(en"s face. 7ou rea((y do
care for me after a((, she said.
Huh& I as%ed.
L ove and Ps yc hot her a.y 17
#
If you didn"t rea((y care for me you wou(dn"t fee( so frus.
trated, she re'(ied, as if it were a(( 'erfect(y obvious.
)t the very ne/t session He(en began to te(( me things
that she had 'revious(y either withhe(d or actua((y (ied
about, and within a wee% I had a c(ear understanding of her
basic 'rob(em, cou(d ma%e a diagnosis, and %new genera((y
how the thera'y shou(d 'roceed.
)gain, my reaction to He(en was meaningfu( and signifi.
cant to her 'recise(y because of the de'th of my
invo(vement with her and the intensity of our strugg(e
together. <e are now ab(e to see the essentia( ingredient
that ma%es 'sycho.thera'y effective and successfu(. It is not
unconditiona( 'ositive regard, nor is it magica( words,
techni>ues or 'ostures: it is human invo(vement and
strugg(e. It is the wi((ingness of the thera'ist to e/tend
himse(f or herse(f for the 'ur'ose of nurturing the 'atient"s
growth.wi((ingness to go out on a (imb, to tru(y invo(ve
onese(f at an emotiona( (eve( in the re(ationshi', to actua((y
strugg(e with the 'atient and with onese(f. In short, the
essentia( ingredient of successfu( dee' and meaningfu(
'sychothera'y is (ove.
It is remar%ab(e, a(most incredib(e, that the vo(uminous
'rofessiona( (iterature in the <est on the sub8ect of 'sycho.
thera'y ignores the issue of (ove. Hindu gurus fre>uent(y
ma%e no bones about the fact that their (ove is the source of
their 'ower.H 9ut the c(osest <estern (iterature comes to
the issue are those artic(es that attem't to ana(yFe
differences between successfu( and unsuccessfu(
'sychothera'ists and usua((y end u' mentioning such
characteristics of successfu( 'sychothera'ists as warmth
and em'athy. 9asica((y, we seem to be embarrassed by
the sub8ect of (ove. There are a number of reasons for this
state of affairs. One is the confusion between genuine (ove
and romantic (ove which so 'ervades our cu(ture, as we(( as
the other confusions that have
H #ee $eter 9rent, The (od 5en o" India 4New 7or%0
Muadrang(e 9oo%s, *+,@5.
*,B ?OD6
been dea(t with in this section. )nother is our bias toward
the rationa(, the tangib(e and the measurab(e in scientific
medicine, and it is (arge(y out of scientific medicine that
the 'rofession of 'sychothera'y evo(ved. #ince (ove is an
intangib(e, incom'(ete(y measurab(e and su'ranationa(
'henomenon, it has not (ent itse(f to scientific ana(ysis.
)nother reason is the strength of the 'sychoana(ytic tradi.
tion in 'sychiatry of the a(oof and detached ana(yst, a tradi.
tion for which ;reud"s fo((owers more than ;reud himse(f
seem to be res'onsib(e. In this same tradition, any fee(ings
of (ove that the 'atient has for the thera'ist are genera((y
(abe(ed transference and any fee(ings of (ove that the
thera'ist has for the 'atient counter transference, with
the im'(ication that such fee(ings are abnorma(, a 'art of
the 'rob(em rather than its so(ution, and are to be avoided.
This is a(( >uite absurd. Transference, as mentioned in the
'revious section, refers to ina..ro.riate fee(ings,
'erce'tions and res'onses. There is nothing ina''ro'riate
about 'atients coming to (ove a thera'ist who tru(y (istens
to them hour after hour in a non8udgmenta( way, who tru(y
acce'ts them as they 'robab(y have never been acce'ted
before, who tota((y refrains from using them and who has
been he('fu( in a((eviating their suffering. Indeed, the
essence of the transference in many cases is that which
'revents the 'atient from deve(o'ing a (oving re(ationshi'
with the thera'ist, and the cure consists of wor%ing through
the transference so that the 'atient can e/'erience a
successfu( (ove re(ationshi', often for the first time. #imi.
(ar(y, there is nothing at a(( ina''ro'riate in the fee(ings of
(ove that a thera'ist deve(o's for his or her 'atient when
the 'atient submits to the disci'(ine of 'sychothera'y,
coo'erates in the treatment, is wi((ing to (earn from the
thera'ist, and successfu((y begins to grow through the
re(ationshi'. Intensive 'sychothera'y in many ways is a
'rocess of re'arenting. It is no more ina''ro'riate for a
'sychothera'ist to have fee(ings of (ove for a 'atient than it
is for a good 'arent to have fee(ings of (ove for a chi(d. To
the contrary, it is essentia( for the thera'ist to (ove a 'atient
for the thera'y to be successfu(,
Love and Psychothera.y *,2
and if the thera'y does become successfu(, then the
thera'eutic re(ationshi' wi(( become a mutua((y (oving
one. It is inevitab(e that the thera'ist wi(( e/'erience
(oving fee(ings coincidenta( with the genuine (ove he or
she has demonstrated toward the 'atient.
;or the most 'art, menta( i((ness is caused by an
absence of or defect in the (ove that a 'articu(ar chi(d
re>uired from its 'articu(ar 'arents for successfu(
maturation and s'iritua( growth. It is obvious, then, that in
order to be hea(ed through 'sychothera'y the 'atient must
receive from the 'sychothera'ist at (east a 'ortion of the
genuine (ove of which the 'atient was de'rived. If the
'sychothera'ist cannot genuine(y (ove a 'atient, genuine
hea(ing wi(( not occur. No matter how we(( credentia(ed and
trained 'sychothera'ists may be, if they can.not e/tend
themse(ves through (ove to their 'atients, the resu(ts of
their 'sychothera'eutic 'ractice wi(( be genera((y
unsuccessfu(. Converse(y, a tota((y uncredentia(ed and mini .
ma((y trained (ay thera'ist who e/ercises a great ca'acity
to (ove wi(( achieve 'sychothera'eutic resu(ts that e>ua(
those of the very best 'sychiatrists.
#ince (ove and se/ are so c(ose(y re(ated and
interconnected, it is a''ro'riate to mention here brief(y the
issue of se/ua( re(ationshi's between 'sychothera'ists and
their 'atients, an issue that is current(y receiving a good
dea( of attention in the 'ress. 9ecause of the necessari(y
(oving and intimate nature of the 'sychothera'eutic
re(ationshi', it is inevitab(e that both 'atients and
thera'ists routine(y deve(o' strong or e/treme(y strong
se/ua( attractions to each other. The 'ressures to se/ua((y
consummate such attractions may be enormous. I sus'ect
that some of those in the 'rofession of 'sychothera'y who
cast stones at a thera'ist who has re(ated se/ua((y with a
'atient may not themse(ves be (oving thera'ists and may
not therefore have any rea( understanding of the enormity
of the 'ressures invo(ved. !oreover, were I ever to have a
case in which I conc(uded after carefu( and 8udicious
consideration that my 'atient"s s'iritua( growth wou(d be
substantia((y furthered by our having se/ua( re(ations, I
wou(d 'roceed to have
, ?OD6
them. In fifteen years of 'ractice, however, I have not yet
had such a case, and I find it difficu(t to imagine that such a
case cou(d rea((y e/ist. ;irst of a((, as I have mentioned, the
ro(e of the good thera'ist is 'rimari(y that of the good
'arent, and good 'arents do not consummate se/ua(
re(ationshi's with their chi(dren for severa( very com'e((ing
reasons. The 8ob of a 'arent is to be of use to a chi(d and
not to use the chi(d for 'ersona( satisfaction. The 8ob of a
thera'ist is to be of use to a 'atient and not to use the
'atient to serve the thera'ist"s own needs. The 8ob of a
'arent is to encourage a chi(d a(ong the 'ath toward
inde'endence, and the 8ob of a thera'ist with a 'atient is
the same. It is difficu(t to see how a thera'ist who re(ated
se/ua((y with a 'atient wou(d not be using the 'atient to
satisfy his or her own needs or how the thera'ist wou(d be
encouraging the 'atient"s inde'endence thereby.
!any 'atients, 'articu(ar(y those (i%e(y to be most seduc.
tive, have se/ua(iFed attachments to their 'arents which
c(ear(y im'ede their freedom and growth. 9oth theory and
the scant bit of evidence avai(ab(e strong(y suggest that a
se/ua( re(ationshi' between a thera'ist and such a 'atient
is far more (i%e(y to cement the 'atient"s immature
attachments than to (oosen them. 6ven if the re(ationshi' is
not se/ua((y consummated, it is detrimenta( for the
thera'ist to fa(( in (ove with the 'atient, since, as we have
seen, fa((ing in (ove invo(ves a co((a'se of ego boundaries
and a diminution of the norma( sense of se'aration that
e/ists between individua(s.
The thera'ist who fa((s in (ove with a 'atient cannot 'ossi.
b(y be ob8ective about the 'atient"s needs or se'arate those
needs from his or her own. It is out of (ove for their 'atients
that thera'ists do not a((ow themse(ves the indu(gence of
fa((ing in (ove with them. #ince genuine (ove demands
res'ect for the se'arate identity of the be(oved, the
genuine(y (oving thera'ist wi(( recogniFe and acce't that the
'atient"s 'ath in (ife is and shou(d be se'arate from that of
the thera'ist. ;or some thera'ists this means that their own
and the 'atient"s 'aths shou(d never cross outside of the
thera'eutic hour. <hi(e I res'ect this 'osition, for myse(f I
find it unnecessari(y rigid.
Love and Psychothera.y 177
)(though I have had one e/'erience in which my re(ating to
an e/.'atient seemed to be definite(y detrimenta( to her, I
have had severa( other e/'eriences in which socia( re(ation.
shi's with e/.'atients seemed c(ear(y beneficia( to them as
we(( as to myse(f. I have a(so been fortunate enough to suc.
cessfu((y ana(yFe severa( very c(ose friends. Nonethe(ess,
socia( contact with the 'atient outside of the thera'eutic
hour, even after thera'y has been forma((y terminated, is
something that shou(d be entered into on(y with great
caution and stringent se(f.e/amination as to whether the
thera'ist"s needs are being met by the contact to the
detriment of the 'atient"s.
<e have been e/amining the fact that 'sychothera'y
shou(d be 4must be, if successfu(5 a 'rocess of genuine (ove,
a somewhat heretica( notion in traditiona( 'sychiatric
circ(es. The other side of the same coin is at (east e>ua((y
heretica(0 if 'sychothera'y is genuine(y (oving, shou(d (ove
a(ways be 'sychothera'eutic& If we genuine(y (ove our
s'ouse, our 'arents, our chi(dren, our friends, if we e/tend
ourse(ves to nurture their s'iritua( growth, shou(d we be
'racticing 'sychothera'y with them& !y answer is0
!ertainly. ;rom time to time at coc%tai( 'arties someone wi((
say to me, It must be difficu(t for you, Dr. $ec%, to se'arate
your socia( (ife from your 'rofessiona( (ife. )fter a((, one can"t
go around ana(yFing one"s fami(y and friends, can one&
Usua((y the s'ea%er is on(y ma%ing id(e conversation and is
neither interested in nor ready to assimi(ate a serious re'(y.
Occasiona((y, however, the situation gives me the
o''ortunity to teach or 'ractice 'sychothera'y there and
then, on the s'ot, e/'(aining 8ust why I do not even attem't,
or wou(d want to attem't to se'arate my 'rofessiona( and
my 'ersona( (ives. If I 'erceive my wife or my chi(dren or my
'arents or my friends suffering from an i((usion, a fa(sehood,
an ignorance or an unnecessary im'ediment, I have every
bit as much ob(igation to e/tend myse(f to them to correct
the situation insofar as 'ossib(e, as I do to my 'atients, who
'ay me for my services. )m I to withho(d my services, my
wisdom and my (ove from my fami(y and my friends
because they have not s'ecifica((y contracted and 'aid
*,- ?OD6
me for my attention to their 'sycho(ogica( needs& Hard(y.
How can I be a good friend, father, husband or son un(ess I
ta%e the o''ortunities that are avai(ab(e to attem't, with
whatever artistry I can command, to teach my be(oved what
I %now and give whatever assistance is in my 'ower to give
to his or her 'ersona( 8ourneys of s'iritua( growth&
!oreover, I e/'ect the same services from my friends and
fami(y to the (imits of their abi(ity. )(though their criticism of
me may be unnecessari(y b(unt at times and their teaching
may not be as thoughtfu( as an adu(t"s, I (earn much to he('
me from my chi(dren. !y wife guides me as much as I guide
her. I wou(d not ca(( my friends friends were they to withho(d
from me the honesty of their disa''rova( and their (oving
concern as to the wisdom and safety of the directions of my
own 8ourney. Can I not grow more ra'id(y with their he('
than without it& )ny genuine(y (oving re(ationshi' is one of
mutua( 'sychothera'y.
I have not a(ways seen it this way. In years 'ast I was
more a''reciative of my wife"s admiration than of her
criticism, and did as much to foster her de'endency as I did
her 'ower. !y se(f.image as a husband and father was that
of 'rovider: my res'onsibi(ity ended with bringing home the
bacon. Home I wanted to be a '(ace of comfort, not
cha((enge. )t that time I wou(d have agreed with the
'ro'osition that it wou(d be dangerous and unethica( and
destructive for a 'sychothera'ist to 'ractice his art u'on his
friends and fami(y. 9ut my agreement was motivated as
much by (aFiness as it was by fear of misusing my
'rofession. ;or 'sychothera'y, (i%e (ove, is wor%, and it"s
easier to wor% eight hours a day than it is to wor% si/teen.
It
"
s a(so easier to (ove a 'erson who see%s out your wisdom,
who trave(s to your territory to obtain it, who 'ays you for
your attention and whose demands u'on you are strict(y
(imited to fifty minutes at a time than it is to (ove someone
who regards your attention as a right, whose demands may
not be (imited, who does not 'erceive you as an authority
figure and who does not so(icit your teaching. Conducting
'sychothera'y at home or with one"s friends re.>uires the
same intensity of effort and se(f.disci'(ine as it does
Love and Psychothera.y 176
in the office but under much (ess idea( conditions, which is to
say that at home it re>uires even more effort and (ove. I
ho'e, therefore, that other 'sychothera'ists wi(( not ta%e
these words as an e/hortation to immediate(y begin
'racticing 'sychothera'y with their mates and chi(dren. If
one remains on a 8ourney of s'iritua( growth, one"s ca'acity
to (ove grows and grows. 9ut it is a(ways (imited, and one
c(ear(y shou(d not attem't 'sychothera'y beyond one"s
ca'acity to (ove, since 'sychothera'y without (ove wi(( be
unsuccessfu( and even harmfu(. If you can (ove si/ hours a
day, be content with that for the moment, for your ca'acity
is a(ready far greater than most: the 8ourney is a (ong one
and it re>uires time for your ca'acity to grow. To 'ractice
'sychothera'y with one"s friends and fami(y, to (ove one
another fu(( time, is an idea(, a goa( to be striven toward but
not instant(y achieved.
#ince, as I have indicated, (aymen can 'ractice successfu(
'sychothera'y without great training as (ong as they are
genuine(y (oving human beings, the remar%s I have made
concerning the 'ractice of 'sychothera'y on one"s friends
and fami(y do not a''(y so(e(y to 'rofessiona( thera'ists:
they a''(y to everyone. Occasiona((y when 'atients as% me
when they wi(( be ready to terminate their thera'y, I wi((
re'(y, <hen you yourse(f are ab(e to be a good thera'ist.
This re'(y is often most usefu((y made in grou' thera'y,
where 'atients of course do 'ractice 'sychothera'y on each
other and where their fai(ures to successfu((y assume the
ro(e of 'sychothera'ist can be 'ointed out to them. !any
'atients do not (i%e this re'(y, and some wi(( actua((y say,
That"s too much wor%. To do that means that I wou(d have
to thin% a(( the time in my re(ationshi's with 'eo'(e. I don"t
want to thin% that much. I don"t want to wor% that hard. I 8ust
want to en8oy myse(f. $atients often res'ond simi(ar(y when
I 'oint out to them that a(( human interactions are
o''ortunities either to (earn or to teach 4to give or receive
thera'y5, and when they neither (earn nor teach in an
interaction they are 'assing u' an o''ortunity. !ost 'eo'(e
are >uite correct when they say they do not want to achieve
such a (ofty goa(
)O LOE
or wor% so hard in (ife. The ma8ority of 'atients, even in the
hands of the most s%i((ed and (oving thera'ists, wi((
terminate their thera'y at some 'oint far short of
com'(ete(y fu(fi((ing their 'otentia(. They may have trave(ed
a short or even a good(y distance a(ong the 8ourney of
s'iritua( growth, but the who(e 8ourney is not for them. It is
or seems to be too difficu(t. They are content to be ordinary
men and women and do not strive to be =od.
The 5ystery o" Love
This discussion began many 'ages bac% by noting that
(ove is a mysterious sub8ect and that unti( now the mystery
has been ignored. The >uestions raised here so far have
been answered. 9ut there are other >uestions, not so easy
to answer.
One set of such >uestions derives rather (ogica((y from
the materia( thus far discussed. It has been made c(ear, for
in.stance, that se(f.disci'(ine deve(o's from the foundation
of (ove. 9ut this (eaves unanswered the >uestion of where
(ove itse(f comes from. )nd if we as% that, we must a(so as%
what are the sources of the absence of (ove. It has been
further suggested that the absence of (ove is the ma8or
cause of menta( i((ness and that the 'resence of (ove is
conse>uent(y the essentia( hea(ing e(ement in
'sychothera'y. This being so, how is it that certain
individua(s, born and raised in an environment of non(ove,
of unremitting neg(ect and casua( bruta(ity, some.how
manage to transcend their chi(dhood, sometimes even
without the (oving assistance of 'sychothera'y, and
become mature, hea(thy and 'erha's even saint(y 'eo'(e&
Converse(y, how is it that some 'atients, a''arent(y no
more i(( than oth.
The 5ystery o" Love 1:1
ers, fai( 'artia((y or tota((y to res'ond to 'sychothera'eutic
treatment by even the most wise and (oving thera'ist&
)n attem't wi(( be made to answer this set of >uestions in
the fina( section, on grace. The attem't wi(( not meet with
anyone"s com'(ete satisfaction, inc(uding my own. I ho'e,
however, what I write wi(( bring some en(ightenment.
There is another set of >uestions having to do with
matters de(iberate(y omitted or g(ossed over in the
discussion of (ove. <hen my be(oved first stands before me
na%ed, a(( o'en to my sight, there is a fee(ing throughout
the who(e of me0 awe. <hy& If se/ is no more than an
instinct, why don"t I 8ust fee( horny or hungry& #uch sim'(e
hunger wou(d be >uite sufficient to insure the 'ro'agation
of the s'ecies. <hy awe& <hy shou(d se/ be com'(icated
with reverence& )nd for that matter, what is it that
determines beauty& I have said the ob8ect of genuine (ove
must be a 'erson, since on(y 'eo'(e have s'irits ca'ab(e of
growth. 9ut what about the finest creation by a master
woodwor%er& Or the best scu('tures of medieva( madonnas&
Or the bronFe statue of the =ree% charioteer at De('hi&
<ere these inanimate ob8ects not (oved by their creators
and is not their beauty somehow re(ated to their creators"
(ove& <hat about the beauty of nature.nature, to which we
sometimes give the name creation& )nd why in the
'resence of beauty or 8oy do we so often have the strange,
'arado/ica( reaction of sadness or tears& How is it that
certain bars of music '(ayed or sung in certain ways can
move us so& )nd why do I become wet.eyed when my si/.
year.o(d son, sti(( i(( on his first night home from the hos'ita(
after a tonsi((ectomy, sudden(y comes over to where I am
(ying, tired, on the f(oor and begins to rub my bac% gent(y&
C(ear(y there are dimensions of (ove that have not been
discussed and are most difficu(t to understand. I do not
thin% >uestions about these as'ects 4and many more5 wi((
be answered by sociobio(ogy. Ordinary 'sycho(ogy with its
%now(edge of ego boundaries may be of a (itt(e he('.but
on(y a (itt(e. The 'eo'(e who %now the most about such
things are those among the re(igious who are students of
!ystery. It is
to them and to the sub8ect of re(igion that we must turn if we
are to obtain even g(immerings of insight into these matters.
The remainder of this boo% wi(( dea( with certain facets of
re(igion. The ne/t section wi(( discuss in a very (imited way
the re(ationshi' between re(igion and the growth 'rocess. The
fina( section wi(( focus on the 'henomenon of grace and the
ro(e it '(ays in this 'rocess. The conce't of grace has been
fami(iar to re(igion for mi((ennia, but it is foreign to science,
inc(uding 'sycho(ogy. Nonethe(ess, I be(ieve that an under.
standing of the 'henomenon of grace is essentia( to
com'(ete understanding of the 'rocess of growth in human
beings. <hat fo((ows wi((, I ho'e, re'resent a contribution to
the s(ow(y en(arging interface between re(igion and the
science of 'sycho(ogy.
#6CTION III
(roth and
Religion
World @ies and Religion
)s human beings grow in disci'(ine and (ove and (ife
e/'erience, their understanding of the wor(d and their
'(ace in it natura((y grows a'ace. Converse(y, as 'eo'(e
fai( to grow in disci'(ine, (ove and (ife e/'erience, so does
their understanding fai( to grow. Conse>uent(y, among
the members of the human race there e/ists an
e/traordinary variabi(ity in the breadth and so'histication
of our understanding of what (ife is a(( about.
This understanding is our re(igion. #ince everyone has
some understanding.some wor(d view, no matter how (im.
ited or 'rimitive or inaccurate.everyone has a re(igion.
This fact, not wide(y recogniFed, is of the utmost
im'ortance0 everyone has a re(igion.
<e suffer, I be(ieve, from a tendency to define re(igion
too narrow(y. <e tend to thin% that re(igion must inc(ude
a be(ief in =od or some ritua(istic 'ractice or membershi'
in a worshi'ing grou'. <e are (i%e(y to say of someone
who does not attend church or be(ieve in a su'erior being,
He or she is not re(igious. I have even heard scho(ars
say such things as0 9uddhism is not rea((y a re(igion

or
Unitarians have e/c(uded re(igion from their faith or
!ysticism is more a 'hi(oso'hy than a re(igion. <e tend
to view re(igion as something mono(ithic, cut out of who(e
c(oth, and then, with this sim'(istic conce't, we are
'uFF(ed as to how two very different 'eo'(e can both ca((
themse(ves Christians. Or Gews. Or how an atheist might
have a more high(y deve(o'ed sense
of Christian mora(ity than a Catho(ic who routine(y attends
mass.
In su'ervising other 'sychothera'ists I rather routine(y find
that they 'ay too (itt(e, if any, attention to the ways in which
their 'atients view the wor(d. There are severa( reasons for
this, but among them is the notion that if 'atients don"t
consider themse(ves re(igious by virtue of their be(ief in =od
or their church membershi', they are (ac%ing in re(igion and
the matter therefore needs no further scrutiny. 9ut the fact of
the matter is that everyone has an e/'(icit or im'(icit set of
ideas and be(iefs as to the essentia( nature of the wor(d. Do
'atients envision the universe as basica((y chaotic and without
meaning so that it is on(y sensib(e for them to grab whatever
(itt(e '(easure they can whenever it is avai(ab(e& Do they see
the wor(d as a dog.eat.dog '(ace where ruth(essness is
essentia( for their surviva(& Or do they see it as a nurturing
sort of '(ace in which something good wi(( a(ways turn u' and
in which they need not fret much about the future& Or a
'(ace that owes them a (iving no matter how they conduct
their (ives& Or a universe of rigid (aw in which they wi(( be
struc% down and cast away if they ste' even s(ight(y out of
(ine& 6t cetera. There are a(( manner of different wor(d views
that 'eo'(e have. #ooner or (ater in the course of
'sychothera'y most thera'ists wi(( come to recogniFe how a
'atient views the wor(d, but if the thera'ist is s'ecifica((y on
the (oo%out for it, he or she wi(( come to this recognition
sooner rather than (ater. )nd it is essentia( that thera'ists
arrive at this %now(edge, for the wor(d view of 'atients is
a(ways an essentia( 'art of their 'rob(ems, and a correction in
their wor(d view is necessary for their cure. #o I say to those I
su'ervise0 ;ind out your 'atients" re(igions even if they say
they don"t have any.
Usua((y a 'erson"s re(igion or wor(d view is at best on(y
incom'(ete(y conscious. $atients are often unaware of how
they view the wor(d, and sometimes may even thin% they
'ossess a certain %ind of re(igion when they actua((y are 'os.
9?> =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
sessed by a far different %ind. #tewart, a successfu(
industria( engineer, became severe(y de'ressed in his mid.
fifties. De.s'ite his success at wor% and the fact that he had
been an e/em'(ary husband and father, he fe(t worth(ess
and evi(. The wor(d wou(d be a better '(ace if I were dead,
he said. )nd meant it. #tewart had made two e/treme(y
serious suicide attem'ts. No amount of rea(istic reassurance
cou(d interru't the unrea(ism of his worth(ess se(f.image. )s
we(( as the usua( sym'toms of a severe de'ression, such as
insomnia and agitation, #tewart a(so suffered great difficu(ty
in swa((owing his food. It"s not 8ust that the food tastes bad,
he said. That too. 9ut it"s as if there"s a b(ade of stee( stuc%
straight in my throat and nothing but (i>uid can get by it.
#'ecia( P.rays and tests fai(ed to revea( a 'hysica( cause for
his difficu(ty. #tewart made no bones about his re(igion. I"m
an atheist, '(ain and sim'(e, he stated. I"m a scientist. The
on(y things I be(ieve in are those things you can see and
touch. !aybe I"d be better off if I had some %ind of faith in a
sweet and (oving =od, but, fran%(y, I can"t stomach that %ind
of cra'. I had enough of it when I was a chi(d and I"m g(ad
I"ve gotten away from it. #tewart had grown u' in a sma((
!idwestern community, the son of a rigid fundamenta(ist
'reacher and his e>ua((y rigid and fundamenta(ist wife, and
had (eft home and church at the first o''ortunity.
#evera( months after he entered treatment #tewart re.
counted the fo((owing brief dream0 It was bac% in my chi(d.
hood home in !innesota. It was (i%e I was sti(( (iving there as
a chi(d, yet I a(so %new I was the same age as I am now. It
was nighttime. ) man had entered the house. He was going
to cut our throats. I had never seen this man before, but
strange(y I %new who he was0 the father of a gir( I had dated
a cou'(e of times in high schoo(. That was a((. There was no
conc(usion. I 8ust wo%e u' fearfu(, %nowing that this man
wanted to cut our throats.
I as%ed #tewart to te(( me everything he cou(d about this man
in his dream. There"s rea((y nothing I can te(( you,

he
9?: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
said. I never met the man. I on(y dated his daughter a
cou'(e of times.not rea((y dates, 8ust wa(%ing her home to
her door after church youth grou' meetings. I did stea( a
%iss from her in the dar% behind some bushes on one of
those wa(%s. Here #tewart gave a (itt(e nervous (augh and
went on, In my dream I had the sense I"d never seen her
father, a(though I %new who he was. )ctua((y, in rea( (ife I
did see him.from a distance. He was the stationmaster for
our town. Occasion.a((y I wou(d see him when I used to go to
the station and watch the trains come in on summer
afternoons.

#omething c(ic%ed in my mind. I too as a chi(d had s'ent

(aFy summer afternoons watching the trains go by. The train
station was where the action was. )nd the stationmaster was
the Director of the )ction. He %new the distant '(aces from
which the great trains were coming to touch our (itt(e town
and the faraway '(aces to which they were going. He %new
which trains wou(d sto' and which wou(d roar through, sha%.
ing the earth as they went. He wor%ed the switches, the sig.
na(s. He received the mai( and sent it off. )nd when he was
not doing these wonderfu( things he sat in his office doing
something more wonderfu(0 ta''ing on a magica( (itt(e %ey in
a mysterious rhythmica( (anguage, sending messages out to
the who(e wor(d.
#tewart,

I said, you have to(d me that you"re an atheist,

and I be(ieve you. There is a 'art of your mind that be(ieves
there is no =od. 9ut I am beginning to sus'ect that there is
another 'art of your mind that does be(ieve in =od. a dan.
gerous, cutthroat =od.
!y sus'icion was correct. =radua((y, as we wor%ed to.
gether, re(uctant(y, striving against resistance, #tewart
began to recogniFe within himse(f a strange and ug(y faith0
an assum'tion, beyond his atheism, that the wor(d was
contro((ed and directed by a ma(evo(ent force, a force that not
on(y cou(d cut his throat but that was eager to do so, eager
to 'unish him for transgressions. #(ow(y a(so we began to
focus on his transgressions,

most(y minor se/ua( incidents

symbo(iFed
World @ies and Religion
by his stea(ing a %iss from the stationmaster"s daughter.
6ventua((y it became c(ear that 4among other reasons for his
de'ression5 #tewart was doing 'enance and figurative(y cut.
ting his own throat in the ho'e that by so doing he cou(d
'revent =od from (itera((y cutting it.
<here did #tewart"s notion of a vicious =od and a ma(evo.
(ent wor(d come from& How do 'eo'(e"s re(igions deve(o'&
<hat determines a 'erson"s 'articu(ar wor(d view& There are
who(e com'(e/es of determinants, and this boo% wi(( not e/.
'(ore the >uestion in de'th. 9ut the most im'ortant factor in
the deve(o'ment of the re(igion of most 'eo'(e is obvious(y
their cu(ture. If we are 6uro'ean we are (i%e(y to be(ieve that
Christ was a white man, and if we are )frican that he was a
b(ac% man. If one is an Indian who was born and raised in
9enares or 9ombay, one is (i%e(y to become a Hindu and
'ossess what has been described as a 'essimistic wor(d view.
If one is an )merican born and raised in Indiana, one is more
(i%e(y to become a Christian than a Hindu and to 'ossess a
somewhat more o'timistic wor(d view. <e tend to be(ieve
what the 'eo'(e around us be(ieve, and we tend to acce't as
truth what these 'eo'(e te(( us of the nature of the wor(d as we
(isten to them during our formative years.
9ut (ess obvious 4e/ce't to 'sychothera'ists5 is the fact that
the most im'ortant 'art of our cu(ture is our 'articu(ar fami(y.
The most basic cu(ture in which we deve(o' is the cu(ture of
our fami(y, and our 'arents are its cu(ture (eaders. !ore.
over, the most significant as'ect of that cu(ture is not what
our 'arents te(( us about =od and the nature of things but
rather what they do.how they behave toward each other,
toward our sib(ings and, above a((, toward us. In other words,
what we (earn about the nature of the wor(d when we are
growing u' is determined by the actua( nature of our e/'eri.
ence in the microcosm of the fami(y. It is not so much what
our 'arents say that determines our wor(d view as it is the
uni>ue wor(d they create for us by their behavior. I agree
9?B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
that I have this notion of a cutthroat =od, #tewart said,
but where did it come from& !y 'arents certain(y be(ieved in
=od . t he y ta(%ed about it incessant(y.but theirs was a =od
of ?ove. Gesus (oves us. =od (oves us. <e (ove =od and
Gesus. ?ove, (ove, (ove, that"s a(( I ever heard.
Did you have a ha''y chi(dhood& I as%ed.
#tewart g(ared at me. #to' '(aying dumb, he said. 7ou
%now I didn"t. 7ou %now it was miserab(e.
<hy was it miserab(e&
7ou %now that too. 7ou %now what it was (i%e. I got the
shit beaten out of me. 9e(ts, boards, brooms, brushes, any.
thing they cou(d (ay their hands on. There wasn"t anything I
cou(d do that didn"t merit a beating. ) beating a day %ee's
the doctor away and ma%es a good (itt(e Christian out of
you.
Did they ever try to strang(e you or cut your throat&
No, but I"m sure they wou(d have if I hadn"t been care.
fu(. There was a (ong moment of si(ence. #tewart"s face be.
came e/treme(y de'ressed. ;ina((y, heavi(y, he said, I"m
beginning to understand.
#tewart was not the on(y 'erson who be(ieved in what I
have come to ca(( the monster.god. I have had a number
of 'atients with simi(ar conce'ts of =od and simi(ar(y b(ea%
or terrifying notions as to the nature of e/istence. <hat is
sur'rising is that the monster.god is not more common in
the minds of humans. In the first section of this boo% it was
noted that when we are chi(dren our 'arents are god(i%e
figures to our chi(d"s eye, and the way they do things seems
the way they must be done throughout the universe. Our
first 4and, sad(y, often our on(y5 notion of =od"s nature is a
sim'(e e/tra'o(ation of our 'arents" natures, a sim'(e
b(ending of the characters of our mothers and fathers or
their substitutes. If we have (oving, forgiving 'arents, we are
(i%e(y to be(ieve in a (oving and forgiving =od. )nd in our
adu(t view the wor(d is (i%e(y to seem as nurturing a '(ace as
our chi(dhood was. If our 'arents were harsh and 'unitive,
we are (i%e(y to mature
World @ies and Religion
with a conce't of a harsh and 'unitive monster.god. )nd if
they fai(ed to care for us, we wi(( (i%e(y envision the
universe as simi(ar(y uncaring. H
The fact that our re(igion or wor(d view is initia((y
(arge(y determined by our uni>ue chi(dhood e/'erience
brings us face to face with a centra( 'rob(em0 the
re(ationshi' between re(igion and rea(ity. It is the 'rob(em
of the microcosm and the macrocosm. #tewart"s view of
the wor(d as a dangerous '(ace where he wou(d get his
throat cut if he wasn"t very carefu( was 'erfect(y rea(istic
in terms of the microcosm of his chi(d.hood home: he (ived
under the domination of two vicious adu(ts. 9ut a(( 'arents
are not vicious and a(( adu(ts are not vicious. In the (arger
wor(d, the macrocosm, there are many different %inds of
'arents and 'eo'(e and societies and cu(tures.
To deve(o' a re(igion or wor(d view that is rea(istic.that
is, conforms to the rea(ity of the cosmos and our ro(e in it,
as best we can %now that rea( i ty. we must constant(y
revise and e/tend our understanding to inc(ude new
%now(edge of the (arger wor(d. <e must constant(y
en(arge our frame of reference. <e are dea(ing here with
the issues of ma'.ma%ing and
H ;re>uent(y 4but not a(ways5 the essence of a 'atient"s
chi(dhood and hence the essence of his or her wor(d view is
ca'tured in the ear(iest memory. Conse>uent(y I wi((
often as% 'atients, Te(( me the very first thing that you
can remember. They may 'rotest that they cannot do this,
that they have a number of ear(y memories. 9ut when I
force them to ma%e a choice of one, the res'onse wi(( vary
in f(avor from <e((, I remember my mother 'ic%ing me u'
and carrying me outside in her arms to show me a
beautifu( sunset to I remember sitting on the f(oor of the
%itchen. I had wet my 'ants and my mother was standing
over me waving a big s'oon in the air and screaming at
me.

It is 'robab(e that these first memories, (i%e the

'henomenon of screen memories, which they so often are,
are remembered 'recise(y because they accurate(y
symbo(iFe the nature of a 'erson"s ear(y chi(dhood. It is not
sur'rising, then, that the f(avor of these ear(iest memories
is so fre>uent(y the same as that of a 'atient"s dee'est
9B9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
fee(ings about the nature of e/istence.
World @ies and Religion
transference, which were discussed at some (ength in the first
section. #tewart"s ma' of rea(ity was accurate for the micro.
cosm of his fami(y, but he had transferred that ma' ina''ro.
'riate(y into a (arger adu(t wor(d, where it was gross(y
incom'(ete and hence defective. To some e/tent the re(igion
of most adu(ts is a 'roduct of transference.
!ost of us o'erate from a narrower frame of reference than
that of which we are ca'ab(e, fai(ing to transcend the inf(uence
of our 'articu(ar cu(ture, our 'articu(ar set of 'arents and our
'articu(ar chi(dhood e/'erience u'on our understanding. It is
no wonder, then, that the wor(d of humanity is so fu(( of
conf(ict. <e have a situation in which human beings, who
must dea( with each other, have vast(y different views as to
the nature of rea(ity, yet each one be(ieves his or her own
view to be the correct one since it is based on the microcosm
of 'ersona( e/'erience. )nd to ma%e matters worse, most of
us are not even fu((y aware of our own wor(d views, much (ess
the uni>ueness of the e/'erience from which they are
derived. 9ryant <edge, a 'sychiatrist s'ecia(iFing in the fie(d
of internationa( re(ations, studied negotiations between the
United #tates and the U.#.#.R. and was ab(e to de(ineate a
number of basic assum'tions as to the nature of human beings
and society and the wor(d he(d by )mericans which differed
dramatica((y from the assum'tions of Russians. These as.
sum'tions dictated the negotiating behavior of both sides. 7et
neither side was aware of its own assum'tions or the fact that
the other side was o'erating on a different set of
assum'tions. The inevitab(e resu(t was that the negotiating
behavior of the Russians seemed to the )mericans to be
either craFy or de(iberate(y evi(, and of course the )mericans
seemed to the Russians e>ua((y craFy or evi(.H <e are indeed
(i%e the three
9B@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
'roverbia( b(ind men, each in touch with on(y his 'articu(ar
'iece of the e(e'hant yet each c(aiming to %now the nature
of the who(e beast. #o we s>uabb(e over our different micro.
cosmic wor(d views, and a(( wars are ho(y wars.
The Religion o" +cience
#'iritua( growth is a 8ourney out of the microcosm into an
ever greater macrocosm. In its ear(ier stages 4which is a((
this boo% concerns itse(f with5 it is a 8ourney of %now(edge
and not of faith. In order to esca'e the microcosm of our
'revious e/'erience and free ourse(ves from transferences,
it is necessary that we learn. We must continua((y e/'and
our rea(m of %now(edge and our fie(d of vision through the
thorough digestion and incor'oration of new information.
The 'rocess of e/'ansion of %now(edge has been a ma8or
theme of this boo%. It wi(( be reca((ed that in the 'revious
section (ove was defined as an e/tension.that is, an e/'an.
sion.of ourse(ves, and it was noted that among the ris%s of
(ove was the ris% of moving into the un%nown of new e/'eri.
ence. )nd at the end of the first section on disci'(ine it was
a(so noted that the (earning of something new re>uires a
giving u' of the o(d se(f and a death of outworn %now(edge.
To deve(o' a broader vision we must be wi((ing to forsa%e, to
%i((, our narrower vision. In the short run it is more
comfortab(e not to do t hi s. t o stay where we are, to %ee'
using the same microcosmic ma', to avoid suffering the
death of cherished
, Aggression, and War, %merican )ssociation for
#ocia( $sychiatry, Nov. *,.*-, *+C*.5
The Religion o" +cience
notions. The road of s'iritua( growth, however, (ies in the
o''osite direction. <e begin by distrusting what we
a(ready be(ieve, by active(y see%ing the threatening and
unfami(iar, by de(iberate(y cha((enging the va(idity of what
we have 'revious(y been taught and ho(d dear. The 'ath
to ho(iness (ies through >uestioning everything.
In a very rea( sense, we begin with science. <e begin by
re'(acing the re(igion of our 'arents with the re(igion of
science. <e must rebe( against and re8ect the re(igion of
our 'arents, for inevitab(y their wor(d view wi(( be
narrower than that of which we are ca'ab(e if we ta%e fu((
advantage of our 'ersona( e/'erience, inc(uding our adu(t
e/'erience and the e/'erience of an additiona( generation
of human history. There is no such thing as a good hand.
me.down re(igion. To be vita(, to be the best of which we
are ca'ab(e, our re(igion must be a who((y 'ersona( one,
forged entire(y through the fire of our >uestioning and
doubting in the crucib(e of our own e/'erience of rea(ity.
)s the theo(ogian )(an Gones has said0
One of our 'rob(ems is that very few of us have
deve(o'ed any distinctive 'ersona( (ife. 6verything
about us seems secondhand, even our emotions. In
many cases we have to re(y on secondhand
information in order to function. I acce't the word of a
'hysician, a scientist, a farmer, on trust. I do not (i%e to
do this. I have to because they 'ossess vita(
%now(edge of (iving of which I am ignorant.
#econdhand information concerning the state of my
%idneys, the effects of cho(estero(, and the raising of
chic%ens, I can (ive with. 9ut when it comes to
>uestions of meaning, 'ur'ose, and death,
secondhand information wi(( not do. I cannot survive on
a secondhand faith in a secondhand =od. There has to
be a 'ersona( word, a uni>ue confrontation, if I am to
come a(ive. H
#o for menta( hea(th and s'iritua( growth we must
deve(o'
our own 'ersona( re(igion and not re(y on that of our
'arents. 9ut what is this about a re(igion of science&
#cience is a re(igion because it is a wor(d view of
considerab(e com'(e/ity with a number of ma8or tenets. !ost
of these ma8or tenets are as fo((ows0 the universe is rea(, and
therefore a va(id ob8ect for e/amination: it is of va(ue for
human beings to e/amine the universe: the universe ma%es
sense.that is, it fo((ows certain (aws and is 'redictab(e: but
human beings are 'oor e/aminers, sub8ect to su'erstition,
bias, 're8udice, and a 'rofound tendency to see what they
want to see rather than what is rea((y there: conse>uent(y, to
e/amine and hence understand accurate(y, it is necessary for
human beings to sub8ect themse(ves to the disci'(ine of
scientific method. The essence of this disci'(ine is
e/'erience, so that we cannot consider ourse(ves to %now
something un(ess we have actua((y e/'erienced it: whi(e the
disci'(ine of scientific method begins with e/'erience, sim'(e
e/'erience itse(f is not to be trusted: to be trusted,
e/'erience must be re'eatab(e, usua((y in the form of an e/.
'eriment: moreover, the e/'erience must be verifiab(e, in
that other 'eo'(e must have the same e/'erience under the
same
circumstances.
The %ey words are

rea(ity,

e/amination,

%now(edge,
distrust,

e/'erience,

disci'(ine. These are words we

have been using a(( a(ong. #cience is a re(igion of
s%e'ticism. To esca'e from the microcosm of our chi(dhood
e/'erience, from the microcosm of our cu(ture and its
dogmas, from the ha(f truths our 'arents to(d us, it is
essentia( that we be s%e'tica( about what we thin% we have
(earned to date. It is the scientific attitude that enab(es us to
transform our 'ersona( e/'erience of the microcosm into a
'ersona( e/'erience of the macrocosm. <e must begin by
becoming scientists.
!any 'atients who have a(ready ta%en this beginning say
to me0 I"m not re(igious. I don"t go to church. I no (onger
be(ieve much of what the church and my 'arents to(d me. I
don"t have my 'arents" faith. I guess I"m not very s'iritua(.
It often comes as a shoc% to them when I >uestion the
rea(ity of their assum'tion that they are not s'iritua( beings.
7ou
The Religion o" +cience
have a re(igion, I may say, a rather 'rofound one. 7ou
worshi' the truth. 7ou be(ieve in the 'ossibi(ity of your
growth and betterment0 the 'ossibi(ity of s'iritua(
'rogress. In the strength of your re(igion you are wi((ing to
suffer the 'ains of cha((enge and the agonies of
un(earning. 7ou ta%e the ris% of thera'y, and a(( this you
do for the sa%e of your re(igion. I am not at a(( certain it is
rea(istic to say that you are (ess s'iritua( than your
'arents: to the contrary, I sus'ect the rea(ity is that you
have s'iritua((y evo(ved beyond your 'arents, that your
s'iritua(ity is greater by a >uantum (ea' than theirs,
which is insufficient to 'rovide them with even the
courage to >uestion.
One thing to suggest that science as a re(igion
re'resents an im'rovement, an evo(utionary (ea', over a
number of other wor(d views, is its internationa(
character. <e s'ea% of the wor(dwide scientific
community. )nd it is beginning to a''roach a true
community, to come considerab(y c(oser than the Catho(ic
Church, which is 'robab(y the ne/t c(osest thing to a true
internationa( brotherhood. #cientists of a(( (ands are ab(e,
far better than most of the rest of us, to ta(% to each
other. To some e/tent they have been successfu( in
transcending the microcosm of their cu(ture. To some
e/tent they are becoming wise.
To some e/tent. <hi(e I be(ieve that the s%e'tica( wor(d
view of the scientific.minded is a distinct im'rovement
over a wor(d view based u'on b(ind faith, (oca(
su'erstition and un>uestioned assum'tions, I a(so be(ieve
that most of the scientific.minded have on(y bare(y begun
the 8ourney of s'iritua( growth. #'ecifica((y, I be(ieve that
the out(oo% of most scientific.minded 'eo'(e toward the
rea(ity of =od is a(most as 'arochia( as the out(oo% of
sim'(e 'easants who b(ind(y fo((ow the faith of their
fathers. #cientists have grave difficu(ty dea(ing with the
rea(ity of =od.
<hen we (oo% from our vantage of so'histicated
s%e'ticism at the 'henomenon of be(ief in =od we are not
im'ressed. <e see dogmatism, and 'roceeding from
dogmatism, we see wars and in>uisitions and
'ersecutions. <e see hy'ocrisy0 'eo'(e
9B: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
'rofessing the brotherhood of man %i((ing their fe((ows in the
name of faith, (ining their 'oc%ets at the e/'ense of others,
and 'racticing a(( manner of bruta(ity. <e see a bewi(dering
mu(ti'(icity of ritua(s and images without consensus0 this god
is a woman with si/ arms and si/ (egs: that is a man who sits
on a throne: this one is an e(e'hant: that one the essence of
nothingness: 'antheons, househo(d gods, trinities, unities.
<e see ignorance, su'erstition, rigidity. The trac% record for
be(ief in =od (oo%s 'retty or. It is tem'ting to thin% that
humanity might be better off without a be(ief in =od, that
=od is not on(y 'ie in the s%y by and by, but a 'oisoned 'ie
at that. It wou(d seem reasonab(e to conc(ude that =od is an
i((usion in the minds of humans.a destructive i((usion.and
that be(ief in =od is a common form of human 'sycho'atho(.
ogy that shou(d be hea(ed.
#o we have a >uestion0 Is be(ief in =od a sic%ness& Is it a
manifestation of transference.a conce't of our 'arents, de.
rived from the microcosm, ina''ro'riate(y 'ro8ected into the
macrocosm& Or, to 'ut it another way, is such be(ief a form of
'rimitive or chi(dish thin%ing which we shou(d grow out of as
we see% higher (eve(s of awareness and maturity& If we want
to be scientific in attem'ting to answer this >uestion, it is
essentia( that we turn to the rea(ity of actua( c(inica( data.
<hat ha''ens to one"s be(ief in =od as one grows through
the 'rocess of 'sychothera'y&
The !ase o" >athy
Eathy was the most frightened 'erson I have ever seen.
<hen I came into her room that first time she was sitting on
the f(oor in the corner muttering what sounded (i%e a chant.
The (ase o) *athy !9+
#he (oo%ed u' at me standing in the doorway and her eyes
grew wide with terror. #he wai(ed and 'ushed herse(f bac%
into the corner and %e't straining against the wa((s as if she
wished she cou(d 'ush herse(f through them. I said, Eathy,
I"m a 'sychiatrist. I"m not going to hurt you. I too% a chair,
sat down at some distance from her and waited. ;or another
minute she continued to 'ush herse(f into the corner. Then
she began to re(a/, but on(y enough to start wee'ing incon.
so(ab(y. )fter a whi(e her wee'ing sto''ed and she began to
chant to herse(f again. I as%ed her what was wrong. I
"
m
going to die, she b(urted out, hard(y 'ausing to interru't
the cadence of her chant. There was nothing more she cou(d
te(( me. #he continued to chant. 6very five minutes or so
she wou(d sto', seeming(y e/hausted, whim'er for a few
moments, and then resume her chanting. To whatever
>uestion I as%ed she wou(d res'ond on(y with I"m going to
die, never brea%ing the rhythm of the chant. It seemed that
she fe(t she might be ab(e to 'revent her death by this
chanting and cou(d not a((ow herse(f to rest or s(ee'.
;rom her husband, Howard, a young 'o(iceman, I ob.
tained the minima( facts. Eathy was twenty years o(d. They
had been married for two years. There were no 'rob(ems
with the marriage. Eathy was c(ose to her 'arents. #he had
never had any 'sychiatric difficu(ty before. This was a
com'(ete sur'rise. #he had been 'erfect(y fine that
morning. #he had driven him to wor%. Two hours (ater his
sister ca((ed him. #he had gone to visit Eathy and had found
her in this condition. They had brought her to the hos'ita(.
No, she had not been acting strange (ate(y. 6/ce't maybe
for one thing. ;or about four months she had seemed >uite
fearfu( of going into 'ub(ic '(aces. To he(' her Howard had
been doing a(( the sho''ing in the su'ermar%et whi(e she
waited in the car. #he a(so seemed to be afraid of being (eft
a(one. #he 'rayed a (ot . b u t , then, she had done that ever
since he had %nown her. Her fami(y was >uite re(igious. Her
mother went to mass at (east twice a wee%. ;unny thing.
Eathy had sto''ed going to mass as soon as they were
married. <hich was 8ust fine
*+g (R4WT2 )ND R6?I=ION
with him. 9ut she sti(( 'rayed a (ot. Her 'hysica( hea(th&
Oh, that was e/ce((ent. #he"d never been hos'ita(iFed.
;ainted once at a wedding severa( years ago.
Contrace'tion& #he too% the 'i((. <ait a minute. )bout a
month ago she to(d him she was sto''ing the 'i((. #he"d
read about how it was dangerous or something. He hadn"t
thought much about it.
I gave Eathy massive amounts of tran>ui(iFers and
sedatives so that she was ab(e to s(ee' at night, but during
the ne/t two days her behavior remained unchanged0
incessant chanting, inabi(ity to communicate anything
e/ce't the conviction of her imminent death, and
unremitting terror. ;ina((y, on the fourth day, I gave her
an intravenous in8ection of sodium amyta(. This in8ection
is going to ma%e you s(ee'y, Eathy, I said,

but you wi((

not fa(( as(ee'. Nor wi(( you die. It wi(( ma%e you ab(e to
sto' chanting. 7ou wi(( fee( very re(a/ed. 7ou wi(( be ab(e
to ta(% with me. I want you to te(( me what ha''ened the
morning you came to the hos'ita(.
Nothing ha''ened, Eathy answered.
7ou drove your husband to wor%&
7es. Then I drove home. Then I %new I was going to
die.
7ou drove home 8ust as you do every morning after
you dro' your husband at wor%&
Eathy began to chant again.
#to' chanting, Eathy, I ordered. 7ou"re com'(ete(y
safe. 7ou"re fee(ing very re(a/ed. #omething was different
about the way you drove home that morning. 7ou are
going to te(( me what was different.
I too% a different road.
<hy did you do that&
I too% the road 'ast 9i(("s house.
<ho"s 9i((& I as%ed.
Eathy started chanting once more.
Is 9i(( a boyfriend of yours&
He was. 9efore I got married.
7ou miss 9i(( a (ot, don"t you&
Eathy wai(ed, Oh, =od, I"m going to die.
The (ase o) *athy 2$$
Did you see 9i(( that day&
No.
9ut you wanted to see him&
I"m going to die, Eathy re'(ied.
Do you fee( that =od is going to 'unish you for wanting
to see 9i(( again&
7es.
That"s why you be(ieve you"re going to die&
7es. Once more Eathy started chanting.
I (et her chant for ten minutes whi(e I co((ected my
thoughts.
;ina((y I said to her, Eathy, you be(ieve you are going to
die because you be(ieve you %now the mind of =od. 9ut you
are wrong. 9ecause you do not %now the mind of =od. )((
you %now is what you have been to(d about =od. !uch of
what you have been to(d about =od is wrong. I do not %now
everything about =od, but I %now more than you do and
more than the 'eo'(e who have to(d you about =od. ;or
instance, every day I see men and women, (i%e yourse(f,
who want to be unfaithfu(, and some are, and they are not
'unished by =od. I %now, because they %ee' coming bac% to
see me. )nd ta(% with me. )nd they become ha''ier. Gust as
you wi(( become ha''ier. 9ecause we are going to wor%
together. )nd you are going to (earn that you"re not a bad
'erson. )nd you"re going to (earn the truth.about yourse(f
and about =od. )nd you wi(( become ha''ier, about yourse(f
and about (ife. 9ut now you"re going to s(ee'. )nd when you
awa%e you wi(( no (onger be afraid that you"re going to die.
)nd when you see me tomorrow morning again, you wi(( be
ab(e to ta(% with me, and we wi(( ta(% about =od and we wi((
ta(% about yourse(f.
In the morning Eathy was im'roved. #he was sti((
frightened and unconvinced that she wou(d not die, but no
(onger certain that she wou(d. #(ow(y, on that day and for
many, many days thereafter, her story emerged, 'iece by
'iece. During her senior year in high schoo( she had had
se/ua( intercourse with Howard. He wanted to marry her
and
;<9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
she had agreed. Two wee%s (ater whi(e at the wedding of a
friend, the idea sudden(y came to her that she did not want
to get married. #he fainted. )fterward she was confused as
to whether she (oved Howard. 9ut she fe(t that she had to
go through with the marriage because she %new she had
a(ready sinned by having 'remarita( re(ations with him, and
this sin wou(d be magnified if she did not consecrate their
re(ationshi' in marriage. #ti((, she did not want chi(dren, at
(east not unti( she fe(t more certain that she (oved Howard.
#o she started on the 'i((.another sin. #he cou(d not bear to
confess these sins and was re(ieved to sto' going to mass
after they were married. #he en8oyed se/ with Howard.
)(most from the day of their wedding, however, he (ost
interest in her se/ua((y. He remained an idea( 'rovider,
buying her gifts, treating her deferentia((y, wor%ing a great
dea( of overtime, not a((owing her to have a 8ob. 9ut she
a(most had to beg him for se/, and the se/ they had every
two wee%s was about a(( there was to re(ieve her
unremitting boredom. Divorce was out: that was a sin,
unthin%ab(e.
Des'ite herse(f Eathy began to have fantasies of se/ua(
in.fide(ity. #he thought 'erha's she might rid herse(f of
these if she 'rayed more, so she started to 'ray
ritua(istica((y five minutes every hour. Then Howard noticed
and teased her about it. #o she decided to hide her 'raying
by doing it more in the daytime when Howard was not
home, to ma%e u' for not doing it in the evening when he
was. This meant she had to 'ray either more fre>uent(y or
faster. #he decided to do both. #he 'rayed now every ha(f
hour, and in her five minutes of 'raying time she doub(ed
her s'eed. The fantasies of infide(ity continued, however,
and gradua((y became even more fre>uent and insistent.
<henever she went outside she (oo%ed at men. That made
things worse. #he became fearfu( of going outside with
Howard, and even when she was with him, she became
frightened of 'ub(ic '(aces where she might see men. #he
thought 'erha's she ought to return to church. 9ut then she
rea(iFed that if she returned to church she wou(d be sinning
if she did not go to confession and confess her fantasies
The (ase o) *athy 2$2
N5@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
of infide(ity to the 'riest. This she cou(d not do. #he again
doub(ed the s'eed of her 'raying. To faci(itate this she
began to deve(o' an e(aborate system in which a sing(e
chanted sy((ab(e stood for an entire 'articu(ar 'rayer. This
was the genesis of her chanting. In a whi(e, 'erfecting her
system, she was ab(e to chant a thousand 'rayers in a five.
minute 'eriod. Initia((y, whi(e she was so busy 'erfecting her
chanting, the fantasies of infide(ity seemed to abate, but
once she had the system down 'at they returned fu(( force.
#he began to consider how she might actua((y carry them
out. #he thought of ca((ing 9i((, her o(d boyfriend. #he
thought of bars she might go to in the afternoon. Terrified
that she might rea((y do this, she sto''ed ta%ing the 'i((,
ho'ing that the fear of getting 'regnant wou(d he(' her in
resisting such acts. 9ut the desire %e't growing stronger.
One afternoon she found herse(f starting to masturbate. #he
was horrified. That was 'erha's the worst sin of a((. #he"d
heard of co(d showers and too% one as co(d as she cou(d
stand. It he('ed her unti( Howard came home. 9ut the ne/t
day it was a(( bac% again.
;ina((y, that (ast morning, she gave in. )fter dro''ing
Howard off at wor% she drove direct(y to 9i(("s house. #he
'ar%ed right in front. #he waited. Nothing ha''ened. No one
seemed to be home. #he got out of the car and stood (eaning
against it in a seductive 'ose. $(ease, she '(eaded si(ent(y,
'(ease (et 9i(( see me, '(ease (et him notice me. #ti(( nothing
ha''ened. $(ease (et someone see me, anyone. I"ve got to
fuc% someone. Oh, =od, I"m a whore. I"m the <hore of
9aby(on. 3 =od, %i(( me, I"ve got to die. #he 8um'ed in the
car and raced bac% to the a'artment. #he got a raFor b(ade
and went to cut her wrist. #he cou(d not do it. 9ut =od cou(d.
=od wou(d. =od wou(d give her what she deserved. He wou(d
'ut an end to it, an end to her. ?et the vigi( begin. 3 =od,
I"m so scared, I"m so scared, '(ease hurry, I"m so scared.
#he began to chant, waiting. )nd that was how her sister.in.
(aw found her.
This story was e(icited in its entirety on(y after months of
'ainsta%ing wor%. !uch of this wor% centered around the
conce't of sin. <here did she (earn that masturbation is a
sin& <ho had to(d her it was a sin& How did her informant
%now it was a sin& <hat made masturbation a sin& <hy is
infide(ity a sin& <hat ma%es a sin& )nd so on, and so on. I
%now of no 'rofession more e/citing and more 'rivi(eged
than the 'ractice of 'sychothera'y, but at times it may be
a(most tedious as the attitudes of a (ifetime are methodica((y
cha((enged one by one in a(( their 'articu(ars. Often such
cha((enge is at (east 'art(y successfu( even before the who(e
story emerges. ;or instance, Eathy was ab(e to te(( me about
many of these detai(s, such as her fantasies and her
tem'tation to masturbation, on(y after she herse(f had
begun to >uestion the va(idity of her gui(t and her
conce'tion of these acts as sins. In raising these >uestions it
was a(so necessary that she >uestion the va(idity of the
authority and wisdom of the who(e Catho(ic Church, or at
(east the church as she had e/'erienced it. One does not
ta%e on the Catho(ic Church easi(y. #he cou(d do so on(y
because she had the strength of an a((y in me, because she
had gradua((y come to fee( that I was tru(y on her side, tru(y
had her best interests at heart and wou(d not (ead her into
evi(. This thera'eutic a((iance, such as she and I had
s(ow(y constructed, is a 'rere>uisite for a(( successfu( ma8or
'sychothera'y.
!uch of this wor% was conducted on an out'atient basis.
Eathy had been ab(e to be discharged from the hos'ita( a
wee% fo((owing her sodium amyta( interview. 9ut it was on(y
after four months of intensive thera'y that she was ab(e to
say in regard to her notions of sin, I guess the Catho(ic
Church so(d me a bi(( of goods. )t this 'oint a new 'hase of
thera'y was begun, for we began to as% the >uestion0 How
was it that this had ha''ened& <hy had she a((owed herse(f
to buy this bi(( of goods, (oc%, stoc% and barre(& How was it
that she had not been ab(e to thin% more for herse(f and
had not unti( now cha((enged the church in any way& 9ut
!other to(d me I shou(d not >uestion the church, Eathy
said. )nd so we began to wor% on Eathy"s re(ationshi' with
her 'arents. <ith her father there was no re(ationshi'.
There was no one to
The (ase o) *athy 2$%
*-B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
re(ate to. ;ather wor%ed: that was a(( he did. He wor%ed and
he wor%ed, and when he came home it was to s(ee' in his
chair with his beer. 6/ce't on ;riday nights. Then he went
out for his beer. !other ran the fami(y. )(one, uncha((enged,
uncontradicted, uno''osed, she ran it. #he was %ind but firm.
#he was giving but never gave in. $eacefu( and im'(acab(e.
7ou mustn"t do that, dear. =ood gir(s don"t do that. 7ou
don"t want to wear those shoes, dear. =ir(s from nice homes
don"t wear those %ind of shoes. It isn"t a >uestion of
whether you want to go to mass, dear. The ?ord wants us to
go to mass. =radua((y Eathy came to see that behind the
'ower of the Catho(ic Church (ay the enormous 'ower of her
mother, a 'erson so soft(y yet so tota((y domineering that it
seemed unthin%ab(e to defy her.
9ut 'sychothera'y se(dom goes smooth(y. #i/ months after
she had (eft the hos'ita( Howard ca((ed one #unday morning
to say that Eathy was (oc%ed in the bathroom of their a'art.
ment chanting once again. U'on my instructions he 'er.
suaded her to return to the hos'ita(, where I met them.
Eathy was a(most as frightened as the first day I saw her.
Once again Howard had no c(ue as to what had set it off. I
too% Eathy into her room. #to' chanting, I ordered, and
te(( me what"s the matter.
I can"t.
7es, you can, Eathy.
Hard(y catching her breath in between her chanting, she
suggested, !aybe I can if you give me the truth drug
again.
No, Eathy, I re'(ied. This time you"re strong enough to
do it yourse(f.
#he wai(ed. Then she (oo%ed at me and resumed her chant.
ing. 9ut in her (oo% I thought I detected anger, a(most fury,
at me.
7ou"re angry at me, I stated.
#he shoo% her head as she chanted.
Eathy, I said, I can thin% of a doFen reasons why you
might be angry at me. 9ut I don"t %now un(ess you te(( me.
7ou can te(( me. It wi(( be a(( right.
The (ase o) *athy
I"m going to die, she moaned.
No, you"re not, Eathy. 7ou"re not going to die because
you"re angry at me. I"m not going to %i(( you because you"re
angry at me. It"s a(( right for you to be angry at me.
!y days are not (ong, Eathy moaned. !y days are not
(ong.
#omething about these words sounded strange to me.
They were not the words I wou(d have e/'ected. #omehow
they seemed unnatura(. 9ut I was not sure what to say
e/ce't to re'eat myse(f one way or another.
Eathy, I (ove you, I said. I (ove you even if you hate me.
That"s what (ove is. How cou(d I 'unish you for hating me,
since I (ove you, hating and a((&
It"s not you I hate, she sobbed.
#udden(y it c(ic%ed. 7our days are not (ong. Not (ong on
this earth. That"s it, isn"t it, Eathy& Honor your mother and
your father that your days may be (ong on this earth. The
;ifth Commandment. Honor them or die. That"s what"s ha'.
'ening, isn"t it&
I hate her, Eathy muttered. Then (ouder, as if embo(d.
ened by the sound of her own voice saying the dreaded
words, I hate her. I hate my mother. I hate her. #he never
gave me ... she never gave me . . . she never gave me. #he
never (et me be me. #he made me in her image. #he made
me, made me, made me. #he never (et any of me be me.
)ctua((y, Eathy"s thera'y was sti(( in its ear(y stages. The
rea( day.to.day terror sti(( (ay ahead, the terror of being tru(y
herse(f in a thousand (itt(e ways. RecogniFing the fact that
her mother had tota((y dominated her, Eathy then had to
dea( with why she had a((owed this to ha''en. Re8ecting her
mother"s domination, she had to face the 'rocess of
estab(ishing her own va(ues and ma%ing her own decisions,
and she was very frightened. It was much safer to (et her
mother ma%e the decisions, much sim'(er to ado't her
mother"s va(ues and those of the church. It too% much more
wor% to direct her own e/istence. ?ater Eathy was to say,
7ou %now, I wou(dn"t rea((y trade '(aces for anything with
the 'erson I
;<: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
used to be, yet sometimes I sti(( (ong for those days. !y
(ife used to be easier then. )t (east in a way.
9eginning to function more inde'endent(y, Eathy con.
fronted Howard with his fai(ure as a (over. Howard
'romised he wou(d change. 9ut nothing ha''ened. Eathy
'ressed him. He began to get an/iety attac%s. On my
urging, when he came to me about these, he went to
another 'sychothera'ist for treatment. He started to dea(
with dee'.seated homose/ua( fee(ings, against which he
had defended himse(f by his marriage to Eathy. 9ecause
she was very 'hysica((y attractive he had regarded her as
a rea( catch, a 'riFe the winning of which wou(d 'rove
to himse(f and the wor(d his mascu(ine com'etence. In a
meaningfu( way he had never (oved her. Having come to
acce't this, he and Eathy most amicab(y agreed to a
divorce. Eathy went to wor% as a sa(eswoman in a (arge
c(othing store. <ith me she agoniFed over the innumer.
ab(e sma(( but inde'endent decisions she was re>uired to
ma%e in connection with her 8ob. =radua((y she became
more assertive and confident. #he dated many men,
intending eventua( remarriage and motherhood, but for the
time being en8oying her career. #he became an assistant
buyer for the store. )fter terminating thera'y she was
'romoted to buyer, and most recent(y I heard from her
that she had moved to another, (arger firm in the same
ca'acity, and was >uite '(eased with herse(f at the age of
twenty.seven. #he does not go to church and no (onger
considers herse(f a Catho(ic. #he doesn"t %now whether
she be(ieves in =od or not, but wi(( te(( you fran%(y that
the issue of =od 8ust doesn"t seem a very im'ortant one
at this 'oint in her (ife.
I have described Eathy"s case at such (ength 'recise(y
be.cause it is so ty'ica( of the re(ationshi' between
re(igious u'bringing and 'sycho'atho(ogy. There are
mi((ions of Eathys. I used to te(( 'eo'(e on(y somewhat
facetious(y that the Catho(ic Church 'rovided me with my
(iving as a 'sychiatrist. I cou(d e>ua((y we(( have said the
9a'tist Church, ?utheran Church, $resbyterian Church, or
any other. The church was not, of course, the so(e cause
The (ase o) *athy
of Eathy"s neurosis. In a sense
;<B GROWTH AND R6?I=ION
the church was on(y a too( used by Eathy"s mother to
cement and augment her e/cessive 'arenta( authority. One
cou(d 8ustifiab(y say that the mother"s domineering nature,
abetted by an absentee father, was the more basic cause of
the neurosis, and in this res'ect too Eathy"s case was ty'ica(.
Nonethe(ess, the church must share the b(ame. No nun in her
'arochia( schoo( and no 'riest in her catechism c(ass ever
encouraged Eathy to reasonab(y >uestion re(igious doctrine or
in any way whatever to thin% for herse(f. There was never any
evidence of concern on the 'art of the church that its doctrine
might be over taught, unrea(istica((y rigid or sub8ect to misuse
and misa''(ication. One way of ana(yFing Eathy"s 'rob(em
wou(d be to state that whi(e she be(ieved who(ehearted(y in
=od, the commandments and the conce't of sin, her re(igion
and understanding of the wor(d was of the hand.me.down
variety and bad(y suited to her needs. #he had fai(ed to
>uestion, to cha((enge, to thin% for herse(f. 7et Eathy"s church.
and this a(so is ty'ica(.made not the s(ightest effort to assist
her in wor%ing out a more a''ro'riate and origina( 'ersona(
re(igion. It wou(d a''ear that churches genera((y, if anything,
favor the hand.me.down variety.
9ecause Eathy"s case is so ty'ica( and others (i%e it are so
common in their 'ractice, many 'sychiatrists and
'sychothera'ists 'erceive re(igion as the 6nemy. They may
even thin% of re(igion as being itse(f a neurosis.a co((ection of
inherent(y irrationa( ideas that serve to enchain 'eo'(e"s
minds and o'.'ress their instincts toward menta( growth.
;reud, a rationa(ist and scientist 'ar e/ce((ence, seemed to
see things in rough(y this (ight, and since he is the most
inf(uentia( figure in modern 'sychiatry 4for many good
reasons5, his attitudes have contributed to the conce't of
re(igion as a neurosis. It is indeed tem'ting for 'sychiatrists
to view themse(ves as %nights of modern science (oc%ed in
nob(e combat with the destructive forces of ancient re(igious
su'erstition and irrationa( but authoritarian dogma. )nd the
fact of the matter is that 'sychothera'ists must s'end
enormous amounts of time and effort in the strugg(e to
(iberate their 'atients" minds from
The (ase o) *athy 2!$
outmoded re(igious ideas and conce'ts that are c(ear(y
destructive.
The !ase o" 5arcia
9ut not a(( cases are (i%e Eathy"s by any means. There
are many other 'atterns, some a(so >uite common.
!arcia was one of the very first of my (ong.term.
thera'y cases. #he was a >uite wea(thy young woman
in her mid.twenties who sought my attention because
of a genera(iFed anhedonia. <hi(e she cou(d not 'ut her
finger on anything wrong with her e/istence, she found
it ine/'(icab(y 8oy(ess. Certain(y she (oo%ed 8oy(ess.
Des'ite her wea(th and her co((ege education she
(oo%ed (i%e an im'overished, bedragg(ed and aged
immigrant woman. Throughout the first year of thera'y
she in.variab(y dressed in bad(y fitting c(othes of b(ue,
gray, b(ac% or brown, and carried with her an enormous,
fi(thy and ragged car'etbag of simi(ar hue. #he was the
on(y chi(d of inte((ectua( 'arents, both high(y successfu(
university 'rofessors, both socia(ists of a sort who
be(ieved that re(igion was 'ie in the s%y by and by.
They had made fun of her when, as a young ado(escent,
she had attended church with a gir( friend.
9y the time she entered thera'y, !arcia agreed with
her 'arents who(ehearted(y. )t the very beginning she
announced, somewhat 'roud(y and strident(y, that she
was an atheist.not a namby.'amby atheist but a rea(
one, who be(ieved that the human race wou(d be much
better off if it cou(d esca'e from the de(usion that =od
e/isted or even might e/ist. Interesting(y, !arcia"s
dreams were choc%.fu(( of re(igious symbo(s, such as
birds f(ying into rooms, their bea%s ho(ding scro((s u'on
which obscure messages were written in an an.
cient (anguage. 9ut I did not confront !arcia with this
as'ect of her unconscious. Indeed, we did not dea( at a((
with issues of re(igion at any time throughout the two.
year course of her thera'y. <hat we 'rimari(y focused on
at great (ength was her re(ationshi' with her 'arents, two
most inte((igent and rationa( individua(s who had 'rovided
we(( for her economica((y but were e/traordinari(y distant
from her emotiona((y in their inte((ectua((y austere way. In
addition to their emotiona( distance, both of them were
a(so so high(y invested in their own careers that they had
(itt(e time or energy for her. The resu(t was that whi(e she
had a comfortab(e and intact home, !arcia was the
'roverbia(

'oor (itt(e rich gir(, a 'sycho(ogica( or'han.

9ut she was re(uctant to (oo% at this. #he resented it when I
suggested that her 'arents had significant(y de'rived her,
and she resented it when I 'ointed out that she dressed
(i%e an or'han. It was 8ust the new sty(e, she said, and I
had no right to criticiFe it.
$rogress with !arcia in thera'y was 'ainfu((y gradua(,
but dramatic. The %ey e(ement was the warmth and
c(oseness of the re(ationshi' that we were s(ow(y ab(e to
construct with each other, which contrasted with the
re(ationshi' she had had with her 'arents. One morning at
the beginning of the second year of thera'y !arcia came
into her session carrying a new bag. It was but a third the
siFe of her o(d car'etbag and was a riot of bright co(ors.
Thereafter about once each month she wou(d add a new
'iece of co(or.bright oranges, ye((ows, (ight b(ues and
greens.to her wardrobe, a(most (i%e a f(ower s(ow(y
unfo(ding its 'eta(s. In her ne/t.to.(ast session with me she
was musing about how we(( she fe(t and said, 7ou %now,
it"s strange, but not on(y has the inside of me changed:
every.thing outside of me seems to have changed too.
6ven though I"m sti(( here, (iving in the same o(d house
and doing some of the same o(d things, the who(e wor(d
(oo%s very different, fee(s very different. It fee(s warm and
safe and (oving and e/citing and good. I remember te((ing
you I was an atheist. I"m not sure I am any more. In fact, I
don"t thin% I am. #ometimes now when the wor(d fee(s
right, I say to myse(f,
K
7ou %now, I bet there rea((y is a =od. I don"t thin% the wor(d
cou(d be so right without a =od." It"s funny. I don"t %now how
to ta(% about this sort of thing. I 8ust fee( connected, rea(, (i%e
I"m a rea( 'art of a very big 'icture, and even though I can"t
see much of the 'icture, I %now it"s there and I %now it"s
good and I %now I"m a 'art of it.

Through thera'y Eathy moved from a '(ace where the

notion of =od was a((.im'ortant to a '(ace where it was of no
im'ortance. !arcia, on the other hand, moved from a 'osi.
tion where she re8ected the notion of =od to one where it
was becoming >uite meaningfu( for her. The same 'rocess,
the same thera'ist, yet with seeming(y o''osite resu(ts, both
successfu(. How are we to e/'(ain this& 9efore we attem't to
do so, (et us consider yet another ty'e of case. In Eathy"s
case it was necessary for the thera'ist to active(y cha((enge
her re(igious ideas in order to bring about change in the
direction of a dramatica((y diminished inf(uence of the =od.
conce't in her (ife. In the case of !arcia the conce't of =od
began to assume an increased inf(uence, but without the
thera'ist ever cha((enging her re(igious conce'ts in any way.
Is it ever necessary, we may as%, for a thera'ist to active(y
cha((enge a 'atient"s atheism or agnosticism and
de(iberate(y (ead the 'atient in the direction of re(igiosity&
The !ase o" Theodore
Ted was thirty when he came to see me, and a hermit. ;or
the 'receding seven years he had (ived in a sma(( cabin dee'
in the woods. He had few friends and no one c(ose. ;or three
years he had not dated. Occasiona((y he 'erformed minor
;9@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
car'entry 8obs, but most(y he fi((ed his days by fishing,
reading and s'ending end(ess time ma%ing unim'ortant
decisions, such as what he wou(d coo% for dinner and how
he might coo% it or whether he cou(d or cou(d not afford to
'urchase an ine/'ensive too(. )ctua((y, by virtue of an
inheritance he was >uite wea(thy, He was a(so
inte((ectua((y bri((iant. )nd, as he said that first session,
'ara(yFed. I %now I shou(d be doing something more
constructive and creative with my (ife, he com'(ained,
but I can"t even ma%e the most minor decisions, much
(ess big ones. I ought to have a career. I ought to go to
graduate schoo( and (earn some %ind of occu'ation, but I
can"t get enthusiastic about anything. I"ve thought of
everything.teaching, scho(ar(y wor%, internationa(
re(ations, medicine, agricu(ture, eco(ogy.but nothing
turns me on. I may get interested in it for a day or two,
but then every fie(d seems to have insurmountab(e
'rob(ems. ?ife seems to be an insurmountab(e 'rob(em.
His 'rob(em began, Ted said, when he was eighteen
and entered co((ege. Unti( then everything had been fine.
He had had basica((y an ordinary chi(dhood in a stab(e
we((.to.do home with two o(der brothers: 'arents who
cared for him even if they didn"t care much for each other:
good grades and satisfactions in a 'rivate boarding
schoo(. Then.and 'erha's this was crucia(.came a
'assionate (ove affair with a woman who re8ected him the
wee% before he entered co((ege. De8ected, he had s'ent
most of his freshman year drun%. #ti((, he maintained
good grades. Then he had severa( other (ove affairs, each
one more ha(fhearted and unsuccessfu( than the (ast. His
grades began to s(i'. He cou(d not decide what to write
'a'ers about. ) c(ose friend, Han%, was %i((ed in an
automobi(e accident in the midd(e of his 8unior year, but
he"d gotten over it. He even sto''ed drin%ing that year.
9ut the 'rob(em with decision.ma%ing became sti(( worse.
He sim'(y cou(d not choose a to'ic on which to write his
senior thesis. He finished his course wor%. He rented an
off.cam'us room. )(( he needed to graduate was to
submit a short thesis, the
The !ase o" Theodore
%ind of thing one cou(d do in a month. It too% him the fo((ow.
ing three years. Then, nothing. #even years before, he had
come here to the woods.
Ted fe(t certain that his 'rob(em was rooted in his se/ua( .
ity. )fter a((, his difficu(ties had begun, had they not, with an
unsuccessfu( (ove affair& 9esides, he had read a(most every.
thing that ;reud had ever written 4and much more than I
myse(f had read5. #o during the first si/ months of thera'y
we '(umbed the de'ths of his chi(dhood se/ua(ity, getting
nowhere in 'articu(ar. 9ut in that 'eriod severa( interesting
facets of his 'ersona(ity did emerge. One was his tota( (ac%
of enthusiasm. He might wish for good weather, but when it
came he wou(d shrug his shou(ders and say, It doesn"t
rea((y ma%e any difference. 9asica((y one day"s 8ust (i%e the
ne/t. ;ishing in the (a%e, he caught an enormous 'i%e, 9ut
it was more than. I cou(d eat and I have no friends to share
it with, so I threw it bac%.
Re(ated to this (ac% of enthusiasm was a %ind of g(oba(
snobbishness, as if he found the wor(d and a(( that was in it
to be in 'oor taste. His was the critic"s eye. I came to
sus'ect he em'(oyed this snobbishness to %ee' a %ind of
distance between himse(f and things that might otherwise
affect him emotiona((y. ;ina((y, Ted had an enormous
'enchant for secrecy, which made thera'y very s(ow going
indeed. The most im'ortant facts of any incident had to be
'ried out of him. He had a dream0 I was in a c(assroom.
There was an ob8ect.I don"t %now what.which I had '(aced
inside a bo/. I had bui(t the bo/ around the ob8ect so that no
one cou(d te(( what was inside it. I had '(aced the bo/ inside
a dead tree, and with fine(y fashioned wooden screws had
re'(aced the bar% over the bo/. 9ut sitting in the c(assroom I
sudden(y remembered that I had not been certain to ma%e
the screws f(ush with the bar%. I became >uite an/ious. #o I
rushed out to the woods and wor%ed the screws so that no
one cou(d distinguish them from the bar%. Then I fe(t better
and came bac% to c(ass. )s with many 'eo'(e, c(ass and
c(assroom were symbo(s for thera'y in Ted"s
;9A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
dreams. It was c(ear he did not want me to find the core of
his neurosis.
The first sma(( chin% in Ted"s armor occurred during one
session in the si/th month of thera'y. He had s'ent the eve.
ning before at the house of an ac>uaintance. It was a
dreadfu( evening, Ted (amented. He wanted me to (isten to
this new record he"d bought, Nei( Diamond"s sound trac% for
the movie of )onathan Livingston +eagull. It was
e/cruciating. I do not understand how educated 'eo'(e can
actua((y en8oy such 'utrid muci(age or even ca(( it music.
The intensity of his snobbish reaction caused me to 'ic%
u' my ears. H)onathan Livingston +eagull was a re(igious
boo%, I commented. <as the music a(so re(igious&
I su''ose you cou(d ca(( it re(igious as much as you cou(d
ca(( it music.
$erha's it was the re(igion that offended you, I sug.
gested, and not so much the music.
<e((, I certain(y do find that %ind of re(igion offensive,
Ted re'(ied.
<hat %ind of re(igion is that %ind&
#entimenta(. !aw%ish. Ted a(most s'at the words out.
<hat other %ind of re(igion is there& I as%ed.
Ted (oo%ed 'uFF(ed, disconcerted. Not much, I guess, I
guess I genera((y find re(igion una''ea(ing.
Has it a(ways been that way&
He (aughed ruefu((y. No, when I was a fuFFy.brained
ado(escent I was >uite into re(igion. !y senior year of board.
ing schoo( I was even a deacon of the (itt(e church we had.
Then what&
Then what what&
<e((, what ha''ened to your re(igion& I as%ed.
I 8ust grew out of it, I guess.
How did you grow out of it&
<hat do you mean, how did I grow out of it& Ted was
c(ear(y becoming irritated now. How does one grow out of
anything& I 8ust did, that"s a((.
<hen did you grow out of it&
The !ase o" Theodore
I don"t %now. It 8ust ha''ened. I to(d you. I never went to
church in co((ege.
Never&
Never once.
#o your senior year of high schoo( you"re a deacon in the
church, I commented. Then that summer you have an un.
successfu( (ove affair. )nd then you never go to church
again. It was an abru't change. 7ou don"t su''ose your gir(
friend
"
s re8ection had anything to do with it, do you&
I don"t su''ose anything. The same 'attern was true of
(ots of my c(assmates. <e were coming of age in a time
when re(igion wasn"t fashionab(e anyway. !aybe my gir(
friend had something to do with it, maybe she didn"t. How
shou(d I %now& )(( I %now is I 8ust became uninterested in
re(igion.
The ne/t brea% came a month (ater. <e had been focusing
on Ted"s notab(e (ac% of enthusiasm about anything, which
he readi(y ac%now(edged. The (ast time I can distinct(y re.
member being enthusiastic, he said, was ten years ago, in
my 8unior year. It was over a 'a'er I was writing at the end
of a fa(( semester course in modern 9ritish 'oetry.
<hat was the 'a'er about& I as%ed.
I rea((y don"t thin% I can remember, it was so (ong ago.
$o''ycoc%, I said. 7ou can remember if you want to.

<e((, I thin% it had to do with =erard !an(ey Ho'%ins.
He was one of the first of the tru(y modern 'oets. K$ied
9eauty" was 'robab(y the 'oem it centered on.
I (eft the office, went to my (ibrary, and came bac% with a
dusty vo(ume of 9ritish 'oetry from my co((ege years.

$ied
9eauty was there on 'age -*+. I read0
(lory $e to (od "or da..led things-
,or s'ies o" cou.le-colour as a $rindled co=
,or rose-%oles all in sti..le u.on trout that
si%= ,resh-"irecoal chestnut "alls= "inches8 ings=
Landsca.e .lotted and .ieced " ol d, "allo,
and .lough=
And all trades, their gear and tac'le and tri%.
;9: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
All things counter, original, s.are, strange=
Whatever is "ic'le, "rec'led Iho 'nos
ho<G With si"t, slo= seet, sour=
adaJJle, di%=
2e "athers "orth hose $eauty is .ast change=
Praise hi%.
Tears came to my eyes. It is, itse(f, a 'oem about enthu.
siasm, I said.
7es.
It"s a(so a very re(igious 'oem.
7es.
7ou wrote the 'a'er on it at the end of the fa(( semester.
That wou(d have been Ganuary&
7es.
If I ca(cu(ate correct(y, it was in the ne/t month, ;ebru.
ary, that your friend Han% died.
7es.
I cou(d fee( an incredib(e tension growing. I was not sure
what was the right thing to do. Ho'ing, I '(oughed ahead.
#o you were re8ected by your first rea( gir( friend at seven.
teen and you gave u' your enthusiasm for the church. Three
years (ater your best friend died and you gave u' your
enthusiasm for everything.
I didn"t give it u', it was ta%en from me. Ted was a(most
shouting now, more emotiona( than I had ever seen him.
=od re8ected you so you re8ected =od.
<e((, why shou(dn"t I & he demanded. It"s a shitty
wor(d. It"s a(ways been a shitty wor(d.
I thought your chi(dhood was >uite ha''y.
No, that was shitty too.
)nd so it was. Underneath its ca(m e/terior Ted"s chi(d.
hood home had been a continua( b(oody batt(eground for
him. His two o(der brothers had 'ic%ed on him with
un'ara((e(ed viciousness. His 'arents, too invo(ved in their
own affairs and their hatred of each other to concern
themse(ves with the seeming(y minor 'rob(ems of chi(dren,
had offered him, the sma((est and the wea%est, no
'rotection. 6sca'e to the coun.
The !ase o" Theodore
tryside for (ong, so(itary wa(%s was his greatest so(ace, and
we were ab(e to estab(ish that his hermit(i%e 'attern had its
roots in the years before he was even ten. 9oarding schoo(,
with its minor crue(ties, had been a re(ief. )s he ta(%ed of
these things, Ted"s resentment of the wor(d.or rather his
venti(ation of that resentment.gathered momentum. In the
months that fo((owed he re(ived not on(y the 'ain of his
chi(dhood and the 'ain of Han%"s death but a(so the 'ain of
a thousand sma((er deaths and re8ections and (osses. )(( of
(ife seemed a mae(strom of death and suffering, danger and
savagery.
)fter fifteen months of thera'y there came a turning
'oint. Ted brought into his session a (itt(e boo%. 7ou"re
a(ways ta(%ing about how secretive I am.and, of course, I
am, he said. ?ast night I was rummaging through some o(d
stuff and I found this 8ourna( that I %e't during my
so'homore year at co((ege. I haven"t even (oo%ed at it to
censor it. I thought 'erha's you might (i%e to read the
une/'urgated me of a decade ago.
I said I wou(d, and I did for the ne/t two nights. )ctua((y, it
was hard(y reve(atory e/ce't to confirm that his 'attern as a
(oner, iso(ated by a snobbishness born of hurt, was dee'(y
entrenched even then. 9ut one (itt(e vignette caught my
eye. He described how he had gone hi%ing a(one on a
#unday in Ganuary and had been caught in a heavy
snowstorm and had gotten bac% to his dormitory severa(
hours after dar%. I fe(t a certain sense of e/hi(aration, he
had written, u'on my re.turn to the safety of my room, not
un(i%e that which I e/'erienced (ast summer when I came so
near to death. The ne/t day in our session I as%ed him to
te(( me how he had come near to death.
Oh, I"ve to(d you about that, Ted said.
9y this time I %new we(( that whenever Ted 'roc(aimed he
had a(ready to(d me something, he was trying to hide it.
7ou"re being secretive again, I res'onded.
<e((, I"m sure I to(d you. I must have. )nyway, there
wasn"t a(( that much to it. 7ou remember I wor%ed in ;(orida
that summer between my freshman and so'homore years.
;9B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
There was a hurricane. I %ind of (i%e storms, you %now. )t
the height of the storm I went out on a 'ier. ) wave washed
me off. Then another washed me bac% on. That was a(( there
was to it. It was over very >uic%(y.

7ou went out to the end of a 'ier at the height of a hurri.

cane& I as%ed incredu(ous(y.
I to(d you. I (i%e storms. I wanted to be c(ose to that
e(ementa( fury.
I can understand that, I said. <e both (i%e storms. 9ut I
don"t %now that I wou(d have 'ut myse(f in 8eo'ardy (i%e
that.
<e((, you %now I have a suicida( strea%, Ted re'(ied
a(most im'ish(y. )nd I was certain(y fee(ing suicida( that
summer. I"ve ana(yFed it. ;ran%(y, I can"t remember going
out on the 'ier with any conscious suicida( intent. 9ut I cer.
tain(y didn"t care much about (ife and I ac%now(edge the
'ossibi(ity that I was being suicida(.
7ou were washed off&
7es. I hard(y %new what was ha''ening. There was so
much s'ray you rea((y cou(dn"t see much of anything. I
guess a 'articu(ar(y big wave came. I fe(t it s(am into me, fe(t
myse(f swe't away, fe(t myse(f (ost in the water. There was
nothing I cou(d do to save myse(f. I was certain I was going
to die. I fe(t terrified. )fter about a minute I fe(t myse(f
tossed bac%.ward by the water.it must have been some %ind
of bac%wash wave.and a second (ater I was s(ammed down
against the concrete of the 'ier. I craw(ed to the side of the
'ier, gri''ed it, and hand over hand I craw(ed bac% to the
(and. I was a bit bruised. That was a((.
How do you fee( about the e/'erience&
<hat do you mean, how do I fee( about it& Ted as%ed in
his resisting way.
Gust what I as%ed. How do you fee( about it&
7ou mean about being saved& he >ueried.
7es.

<e((, I guess I fee( I was fortunate.

;ortunate& I >ueried. Gust an unusua( coincidence, that

bac%wash wave&
The !ase o" Theodore
7es, that"s a((.
#ome might ca(( it miracu(ous, I commented.
I guess I was (uc%y.
7ou guess you were (uc%y, I re'eated, goading him.
7es, goddammit, I guess I was (uc%y.
It"s interesting, Ted, I said, that whenever something
significant(y 'ainfu( ha''ens to you, you rai( against =od,
you rai( against what a shitty, terrib(e wor(d it is. 9ut when
something good ha''ens to you, you guess you"re (uc%y. )
minor tragedy and it"s =od"s fau(t. ) miracu(ous b(essing
and it"s a bit (uc%y. <hat do you ma%e of that&
Confronted with the inconsistency of his attitude toward
good and bad fortune, Ted began to focus more and more
on things that were right with the wor(d, on the sweet as
we(( as the sour, the daFF(e as we(( as the dim. Having
wor%ed through the 'ain of Han%"s death and the other
deaths he had e/'erienced, he began to e/amine the other
side of the coin of (ife. He came to acce't the necessity of
suffering and to em.brace the 'arado/ica( nature of
e/istence, the da''(ed things. This acce'tance occurred,
of course, in the conte/t of a warm, (oving and increasing(y
'(easurab(e re(ationshi' between us. He began to move out.
Dery tentative(y, he started dating again. He began to
e/'ress faint enthusiasm. His re(igious nature b(ossomed.
6verywhere he (oo%ed he saw the mystery of (ife and death,
of creation and decay and re.generation. He read theo(ogy.
He (istened to )esus !hrist, +u.erstar, to (ods.ell, and
even bought his own co'y of Jonathan Livingston +eagull.
)fter two years of thera'y Ted announced one morning
that the time had come for him to get on with it. I"ve been
thin%ing about a''(ying to a graduate schoo( in 'sycho(ogy,
he said. I %now you"re going to say that I"m 8ust imitating
you, but I"ve (oo%ed at that and I don"t thin% that"s it.
=o on, I re>uested.
<e((, in thin%ing about this it seemed to me I ought to try
to do what is most im'ortant. If I am going bac% to schoo( I
want to study the most im'ortant things.

;;9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION

=o on.
#o I decided that the human mind is im'ortant. )nd
doing thera'y is im'ortant.
The human mind and 'sychothera'y, that"s the %ost im.
'ortant thing& I >ueried.
<e((, I su''ose =od is the most im'ortant thing.
#o why don"t you study =od& I as%ed.
<hat do you mean&
If =od is the most im'ortant thing, why don"t you study
=od&
I"m sorry. I sim'(y don"t understand you, Ted said.
That"s because you"re b(oc%ing yourse(f from understand.
ing, I re'(ied.
Rea((y, I don"t understand. How can one study =od&
One studies 'sycho(ogy in a schoo(. One studies =od in a
schoo(, I answered.
7ou mean theo(ogy schoo(&
7es.
7ou mean, become a minister&
7es.
Oh, no, I cou(dn"t do that. Ted was aghast.
<hy not&
Ted became shifty. There isn"t necessari(y any difference
between a 'sychothera'ist and a minister. I mean, ministers
do (ots of thera'y. )nd doing 'sychothera'y, we((, it"s (i%e a
ministry.
#o why cou(dn"t you become a minister&
7ou"re 'ressuring me, Ted fumed. ) career is my 'er.
sona( decision. It"s u' to me to go into the career I want.
Thera'ists aren"t su''osed to direct 'atients. It"s not your
ro(e to ma%e choices for me. I"(( ma%e my own choices.
?oo%, I said, I am not ma%ing any choice for you. I am
in this instance being 'ure(y ana(ytica(. I am ana(yFing the
a(ternatives o'en to you. 7ou are the one who for some
reason does not want to (oo% at one of those a(ternatives.
7ou are the one who wants to do the most im'ortant thing.
The !ase o" Theodore
7ou are the one who fee(s that =od is the most im'ortant
thing. 7et when
;;@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
I drag you to fina((y (oo% at the a(ternative of a career in =od,
you e/c(ude it. 7ou say you cou(dn"t do it. ;ine if you can"t
do it. 9ut it is my 'rovince to be interested in why you fee(
you can"t do it, why you e/c(ude it as an a(ternative.
I 8ust cou(dn"t be a minister, Ted said (ame(y.
<hy not&
9ecause . . . because to he a minister one is 'ub(ic(y a
man of =od. I mean, I"d have to go 'ub(ic with my be(ief in
=od. I"d have to be 'ub(ic(y enthusiastic about it. I 8ust
cou(dn"t do that.
No, you"ve got to be secret, don"t you& I said. That"s
your neurosis and you"ve got to %ee' it. 7ou can"t be
'ub(ic(y enthusiastic. 7ou"ve got to %ee' your enthusiasm in
the c(oset, don"t you&
?oo%, Ted wai(ed, you don"t %now what it"s (i%e for me.
7ou don"t %now what it"s (i%e to be me. 6very time I o'ened
my mouth to be enthusiastic about something my brothers
wou(d tease me for it.
#o I guess you"re sti(( ten years o(d, I remar%ed, and
your brothers are sti(( around.

Ted was actua((y crying now with frustration at me.

That"s not a((, he said, wee'ing. That"s how my 'arents
'unished me. <henever I did something wrong they too%
what I (oved away from me. K?et"s see, what is it that Ted"s
most enthusiastic about& Oh, yes, the tri' to his aunt"s ne/t
wee%. He"s rea((y e/cited about that. #o we"(( te(( him that
because he"s been bad he can"t go see his aunt. That"s it.
Then there"s his bow and arrows. He rea((y (oves his bow
and arrows. #o we"(( ta%e that away." #im'(e. #im'(e system.
6verything I was enthusiastic about they too% away. 6very.
thing I (oved I (ost.
)nd so we arrived at the dee'est core of Ted"s neurosis.
=radua((y, by act of wi((, continua((y having to remind him.
se(f that he was not sti(( ten, that he was not sti(( under the
thumb of his 'arents or within stri%ing distance of his broth.
ers, bit by bit he forced himse(f to communicate his enthusi.
asm, his (ove of (ife and his (ove of =od. He did decide to go
;;= =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
on to divinity schoo(. ) few wee%s before he (eft I received a
chec% from him for the 'revious month"s sessions. #omething
about it caught my eye. His signature seemed (onger. I (oo%ed
at it c(ose(y. $revious(y he had a(ways signed his name Ted.
Now it was Theodore. I ca((ed his attention to the change.
I was ho'ing you wou(d notice it, he said. I guess in a
way I"m sti(( %ee'ing secrets, aren"t I& <hen I was very young
my aunt to(d me that I shou(d be 'roud of the name Theodore
because it means K(over of =od." I was 'roud. #o I to(d my
brothers about it. Christ, did they ma%e fun of me. They ca((ed
me a sissy in ten different ways. K#issy choir boy. <hy don"t
you go %iss the a(tar& <hy don"t you go %iss the choir.master&"
Ted smi(ed. 7ou %now the who(e routine. #o I became
embarrassed by the name. ) few wee%s ago it occurred to me
that I was no (onger embarrassed. #o I decided it was a(( right
to use my fu(( name now. )fter a((, I am a (over of =od, aren"t
I&
The 9a$y and the 9ath Water
The foregoing case histories were offered in res'onse to a
>uestion0 Is be(ief in =od a form of 'sycho'atho(ogy& If we are
to rise out of the mire of chi(dhood teaching, (oca( tradition and
su'erstition, it is a >uestion that must be as%ed. 9ut these case
histories indicate that the answer is not a sim'(e one. The
answer sometimes is yes. Eathy"s un>uestioning be(ief in the
=od her church and mother taught c(ear(y retarded her
growth and 'oisoned her s'irit. On(y by >uestioning and
discarding her be(ief was she ab(e to venture forth into a
wider, more satisfying, more 'roductive (ife. On(y then was
;;A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
she free to grow. 9ut the answer a(so is sometimes no. )s
!arcia grew out of the co(d microcosm of her chi(dhood into a
(arger, warmer wor(d, a be(ief in =od a(so grew within her,
>uiet(y and natura((y. )nd Ted"s forsa%en be(ief in =od had to
be resurrected as an essentia( 'art of the (iberation and
resurrection of his s'irit.
<hat are we to do with this yes.and.no answer& #cientists
are dedicated to as%ing >uestions in the search for truth. 9ut
they too are human, and (i%e a(( humans, they wou(d (i%e their
answers to be c(ean and c(ear and easy. In their desire for
sim'(e so(utions, scientists are 'rone to fa(( into two tra's as
they >uestion the rea(ity of =od. The first is to throw the baby
out with the bath water. )nd the second is tunne( vision.
There is c(ear(y a (ot of dirty bath water surrounding the
rea(ity of =od. Ho(y wars. In>uisitions. )nima( sacrifice.
Human sacrifice. #u'erstition. #tu(tification. Dogmatism. Ig.
norance. Hy'ocrisy. #e(f.righteousness. Rigidity. Crue(ty.
9oo%.burning. <itch.burning. Inhibition. ;ear. Conformity.
!orbid gui(t. Insanity. The (ist is a(most end(ess. 9ut is a(( this
what =od has done to humans or what humans have done to
=od& It is abundant(y evident that be(ief in =od is often
destructive(y dogmatic. Is the 'rob(em, then, that humans
tend to be(ieve in =od, or is the 'rob(em that humans tend to
be dogmatic& )nyone who has %nown a died.in.the.woo(
atheist wi(( %now that such an individua( can be as dogmatic
about unbe(ief as any be(iever can be about be(ief. Is it be(ief
in =od we need to get rid of, or is it dogmatism&
)nother reason that scientists are so 'rone to throw the
baby out with the bath water is that science itse(f, as I have
suggested, is a re(igion. The neo'hyte scientist, recent(y
come or converted to the wor(d view of science, can be every
bit as fanatica( as a Christian crusader or a so(dier of )((ah.
This is 'articu(ar(y the case when we have come to science
from a cu(ture and home in which be(ief in =od is firm(y
The #aby and the #ath ,ater 22-
associated with ignorance, su'erstition, rigidity and
hy'ocrisy. Then we have emotiona( as we(( as inte((ectua(
motives to smash the
;;: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
ido(s of 'rimitive faith. ) mar% of maturity in scientists, how.
ever, is their awareness that science may be as sub8ect to
dogmatism as any other re(igion.
I have firm(y stated that it is essentia( to our s'iritua(
growth for us to become scientists who are s%e'tica( of what
we have been taught.that is, the common notions and as.
sum'tions of our cu(ture. 9ut the notions of science them.
se(ves often become cu(tura( ido(s, and it is necessary that
we become s%e'tica( of these as we((. It is indeed 'ossib(e
for us to mature out of a be(ief in =od. <hat I wou(d now (i%e
to suggest is that it is a(so 'ossib(e to mature into a be(ief in
=od. ) s%e'tica( atheism or agnosticism is not necessari(y
the highest state of understanding at which human beings
can arrive. To the contrary, there is reason to be(ieve that
behind s'urious notions and fa(se conce'ts of =od there (ies
a rea(ity that is =od. This is what $au( Ti((ich meant when he
referred to the god beyond =od and why some
so'histicated Christians used to 'roc(aim 8oyfu((y, =od is
dead. ?ong (ive =od. Is it 'ossib(e that the 'ath of s'iritua(
growth (eads first out of su'erstition into agnosticism and
then out of agnosticism to.ward an accurate %now(edge of
=od& It was of this 'ath that the #ufi )ba #aid ibn )bi.(.Ehair
was s'ea%ing more than nine hundred years ago when he
said0
Fntil college and %inaret have cru%$led
This holy or' o" ours ill not $e done.
Fntil "aith $eco%es reCection, and reCection $eco%es
$elie" There ill $e no true 5usli%.
<hether or not the 'ath of s'iritua( growth necessari(y
(eads from a s%e'tica( atheism or agnosticism toward an
accurate be(ief in =od, the fact of the matter is that some
inte((ectua((y so'histicated and s%e'tica( 'eo'(e, such as
!arcia and Ted, do seem to grow in the direction of be(ief.
)nd it shou(d
H Muoted from Idries #hah, The Way o" the +u"i 4New
7or%0 Dutton 'a'erbac%, *+,35, '. BB.
The #aby and the #ath ,ater 22+
be noted that this be(ief into which they grew was not at a((
(i%e that out of which Eathy evo(ved. The =od that comes
before s%e'ticism may bear (itt(e resemb(ance to the =od
that comes after. )s I mentioned at the beginning of this
section, there is no sing(e, mono(ithic re(igion. There are
many re(igions, and 'erha's many (eve(s to be(ief. #ome
re(igions may be unhea(thy for some 'eo'(e: others may be
hea(thy.
)(( this is of 'articu(ar im'ort for those scientists who are
'sychiatrists or 'sychothera'ists. Dea(ing so direct(y with
the growth 'rocess, they more than anyone e(se are ca((ed
u'on to ma%e 8udgments as to the hea(thiness of an
individua("s be(ief system. 9ecause 'sychothera'ists
genera((y be(ong to a s%e'tica( if not strict(y ;reudian
tradition, there is a tendency for them to consider any
'assionate be(ief in =od to be 'atho(ogica(. U'on occasion
this tendency may go over the (ine into fran% bias and
're8udice..Not (ong ago I met a co((ege senior who was
giving serious consideration to the 'ossibi(ity of entering a
monastery a few years hence. He had been in 'sycho.
thera'y for the 'receding year and was continuing. 9ut I
have not been ab(e to te(( my thera'ist about the monastery
or the de'th of my re(igious be(ief, he confided. I don"t
thin% he wou(d understand. I did not begin to %now this
young man we(( enough to assess the meaning that the
monastery he(d for him or whether his desire to 8oin it was
neurotica((y determined. I very much wou(d have (i%ed to
say to him0 7ou rea((y ought to te(( your thera'ist about it.
It is essentia( for your thera'y that you be o'en about
everything, 'articu(ar(y a serious matter such as this. 7ou
shou(d trust your thera'ist to be ob8ective. 9ut I did not.
;or I was not at a(( sure that his thera'ist wou(d be
ob8ective, that he wou(d understand, in the true meaning of
the word.
$sychiatrists and 'sychothera'ists who have sim'(istic at.
titudes toward re(igion are (i%e(y to do a disservice to some of
their 'atients. This wi(( be true if they regard a(( re(igion as
good or hea(thy. It wi(( a(so be true if they throw out the
baby with the bath water and regard a(( re(igion as sic%ness
or the 6nemy. )nd, fina((y, it wi(( be true if in the face of the
;;B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
com'(e/ity of the matter they withdraw themse(ves from
dea(ing at a(( with the re(igious issues of their 'atients,
hiding behind a c(oa% of such tota( ob8ectivity that they do
not consider it to be their ro(e to be, themse(ves, in any way
s'iritua((y or re(igious(y invo(ved. ;or their 'atients often
need their invo(vement. I do not mean to im'(y that they
shou(d forsa%e their ob8ectivity, or that ba(ancing their
ob8ectivity with their own s'iritua(ity is an easy matter. It is
not. To the contrary, my '(ea wou(d be that
'sychothera'ists of a(( %inds shou(d 'ush themse(ves to
become not (ess invo(ved but rather more so'histicated in
re(igious matters than they fre>uent(y are.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision
Occasiona((y 'sychiatrists encounter 'atients with a
strange disturbance of vision: these 'atients are ab(e to see
on(y a very narrow area direct(y in front of them. They
cannot see any.thing to the (eft or to the right, above or
be(ow their narrow focus. They cannot see two ob8ects
ad8acent to each other at the same time, they can see on(y
one thing at a time and must turn their heads if they are to
see another. They (i%en this sym'tom to (oo%ing down a
tunne(, being ab(e to see on(y a sma(( circ(e of (ight and
c(arity at the end. No 'hysica( disturbance in their visua(
system can be found to account for the sym'tom. It is as if
for some reason they do not want to see more than
immediate(y meets the eye, more than what they choose to
focus their attention u'on.
)nother ma8or reason that scientists are 'rone to throw
the baby out with the bath water is that they do not see the
baby. !any scientists sim'(y do not (oo% at the evidence of
the
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2#;
rea(ity of =od. They suffer from a %ind of tunne( vision, a
'sycho(ogica((y se(f.im'osed 'sycho(ogica( set of b(inders
which 'revents them from turning their attention to the
rea(m of the s'irit.
)mong the causes of this scientific tunne( vision I wou(d
(i%e to discuss two that resu(t from the nature of scientific
tradition. The first of these is an issue of methodo(ogy. In its
(audab(e insistence u'on e/'erience, accurate observation
and verifiabi(ity, science has '(aced great em'hasis u'on
measurement. To measure something is to e/'erience it in
a certain dimension, a dimension in which we can ma%e
observations of great accuracy which are re'eatab(e by
others. The use of measurement has enab(ed science to
ma%e enormous strides in the understanding of the materia(
universe. 9ut by virtue of its success, measurement has
become a %ind of scientific ido(. The resu(t is an attitude on
the 'art of many scientists of not on(y s%e'ticism but
outright re8ection of what cannot be measured. It is as if
they were to say, <hat we cannot measure, we cannot
%now: there is no 'oint in worrying about what we cannot
%now: therefore, what cannot be measured is unim'ortant
and unworthy of our observation. 9ecause of this attitude
many scientists e/c(ude from their serious consideration a((
matters that ar e. or seem to be.intangib(e. Inc(uding, of
course, the matter of =od.
This strange but remar%ab(y common assum'tion that
things that are not easy to study do not merit study is
beginning to be cha((enged by severa( re(ative(y recent
deve(o'ments within science itse(f. One is the deve(o'ment
of increasing(y so'histicated methods of study. Through the
use of hardware such as e(ectron microsco'es,
s'ectro'hotometers and com'uters, and software such as
statistica( techni>ues we are now ab(e to ma%e
measurements of increasing(y com'(e/ 'henomena which a
few decades ago were unmeasurab(e. The range of scientific
vision is conse>uent(y e/'anding. )s it continues to e/'and,
'erha's we sha(( soon be ab(e to say0 There is nothing
beyond the (imits of our vision. If
;@9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
we decide to study something, we can a(ways find the
methodo(ogy with which to do it.
The other deve(o'ment that is assisting us to esca'e
from scientific tunne( vision is the re(ative(y recent
discovery by science of the rea(ity of 'arado/. ) hundred
years ago 'arado/ meant error to the scientific mind. 9ut
e/'(oring such 'henomena as the nature of (ight,
e(ectromagnetism, >uantum mechanics and re(ativity
theory, 'hysica( science has matured over the 'ast century
to the 'oint where it is increasing(y recogniFed that at a
certain (eve( rea(ity is 'arado/ica(. Thus G. Robert
O''enheimer wrote0
To what a''ear to be the sim'(est >uestions, we wi((
tend to give either no answer or an answer which wi((
at first sight be reminiscent more of a strange
catechism than of the straightforward affirmatives of
'hysica( science. If we as%, for instance, whether the
'osition of the e(ectron remains the same, we must
say no: if we as% whether the e(ectron"s 'osition
changes with time, we must say no: if we as%
whether the e(ectron is at rest, we must say no: if we
as% whether it is in motion, we must say no. The
9uddha has given such answers when interrogated as
to the conditions of a man"s se(f after his death: but
they are not the fami(iar answers for the tradition of
seventeenth and eighteenth century science. H
!ystics have s'o%en to us through the ages in terms of
'arado/. Is it 'ossib(e that we are beginning to see a
meeting ground between science and re(igion& <hen we
are ab(e to say that a human is both morta( and eterna( at
the same time and (ight is both a wave and a 'artic(e at
the same time, we have begun to s'ea% the same
(anguage. Is it 'ossib(e that the 'ath of s'iritua( growth
that 'roceeds from re(igious su'ersti.
& +cience and the !o%%on Fnderstanding 4New
7or%0 #imon and #chuster, *+2A5, '. B3.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2#2
tion to scientific s%e'ticism may indeed u(timate(y (ead us
to a genuine re(igious rea(ity&
This beginning 'ossibi(ity of unification of re(igion and
science is the most significant and e/citing ha''ening in our
inte((ectua( (ife today. 9ut it is on(y 8ust beginning. ;or the
most 'art both the re(igious and the scientific remain in se(f.
im'osed narrow frames of reference, each sti(( (arge(y
b(inded by its own 'articu(ar ty'e of tunne( vision. 6/amine,
for in.stance, the behavior of both in regard to the >uestion
of mirac(es. 6ven the idea of a mirac(e is anathema to most
scientists. Over the 'ast four hundred years or so science
has e(ucidated a number of natura( (aws, such as Two
ob8ects attract each other in 'ro'ortion to their mass and in
inverse 'ro'ortion to the distance between them or
6nergy can neither be created nor destroyed. 9ut having
been successfu( in discovering natura( (aws, scientists in
their wor(d view have made an ido( out of the conce't of
natura( (aw, 8ust as they made an ido( out of the notion of
measurement. The resu(t is that any event that cannot be
e/'(ained by current(y understood natura( (aw is assumed to
be unrea( by the scientific estab(ishment. In regard to
methodo(ogy, science has tended to say, <hat is very
difficu(t to study doesn"t merit study. )nd in regard to
natura( (aw, science tends to say, <hat is very difficu(t to
understand doesn"t e/ist.
The church has been a bit more broad.minded. To the
re(igious estab(ishment what cannot be understood in terms
of %nown natura( (aw is a mirac(e, and mirac(es do e/ist. 9ut
beyond authenticating their e/istence, the church has not
been an/ious to (oo% at mirac(es very c(ose(y. !irac(es
need not be scientifica((y e/amined has been the 'revai(ing
re(igious attitude. They shou(d sim'(y be acce'ted as acts
of =od. The re(igious have not wanted their re(igion sha%en
by science, 8ust as the scientific have not wanted their
science to be sha%en by re(igion.
6vents of miracu(ous hea(ing, for instance, have been used
by the Catho(ic Church to authenticate its saints, and they
are
;@@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
a(most standard fare for many $rotestant denominations.
7et the churches have never said to 'hysicians, <ou(d you
8oin with us to study these most fascinating 'henomena& Nor
have 'hysicians said, !ay we get together with you to e/.
amine scientifica((y these occurrences which shou(d be of such
interest to our 'rofession& Instead the attitude of the
medica( 'rofession has been that mirac(e cures are
none/istent, that the disease of which a 'erson was cured did
not e/ist in the first '(ace, either because it was an imaginary
disorder, such as a hysterica( conversion reaction, or e(se
because it was a misdiagnosis. ;ortunate(y, however, a few
serious scientists, 'hysicians and re(igious truth.see%ers are
current(y in the 'rocess of beginning to e/amine the nature of
such 'henomena as s'ontaneous remissions in cancer
'atients and a''arent(y successfu( e/am'(es of 'sychic
hea(ing.
;ifteen years ago, when I graduated from medica( schoo(, I
was certain that there were no mirac(es. Today I am certain
that mirac(es abound. This change in my consciousness has
been the resu(t of two factors wor%ing hand in hand. One
factor is a who(e variety of e/'eriences I have had as a
'sychiatrist which initia((y seemed >uite common'(ace but
which, when I thought about them more dee'(y, seemed to
indicate that my wor% with 'atients toward their growth was
being remar%ab(y assisted in ways for which I had no (ogica(
e/'(anation.that is, ways that were miracu(ous. These e/.
'eriences, some of which I sha(( be recounting, (ed me to
>uestion my 'revious assum'tion that miracu(ous
occurrences were im'ossib(e. Once I >uestioned this
assum'tion I became o'en to the 'ossib(e e/istence of the
miracu(ous. This o'enness, which was the second factor
causing my change in consciousness, then a((owed me to
begin routine(y (oo%ing at ordinary e/istence with an eye for
the miracu(ous. The more I (oo%ed, the more I found. If there
were but one thing I cou(d ho'e for from the reader of the
remainder of this boo%, it wou(d be that he or she 'ossesses
the ca'acity to 'erceive the miracu(ous. Of this ca'acity it
has recent(y been written0
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2#0
#e(f rea(iFation is born and matures in a distinctive
%ind of awareness, an awareness that has been
described in many different ways by many different
'eo'(e. The mystics, for e/am'(e, have s'o%en of it
as the 'erce'tion of the divinity and 'erfection of the
wor(d. Richard 9uc%e referred to it as cosmic
consciousness: 9uber described it in terms of the I.
Thou re(ationshi': and !as(ow gave it the (abe(
9eing.cognition. <e sha(( use Ous'ens%y"s term
and ca(( it the 'erce'tion of the miracu(ous.
!iracu(ous here refers not on(y to e/traordinary
'henomena but a(so to the common.'(ace, for
abso(ute(y anything can evo%e this s'ecia( awareness
'rovided that c(ose enough attention is 'aid to it.
Once 'erce'tion is disengaged from the domination of
'reconce'tion and 'ersona( interest, it is free to
e/'erience the wor(d as it is in itse(f and to beho(d its
inherent magnificence .. . $erce'tion of the
miracu(ous re>uires no faith or assum'tions. It is
sim'(y a matter of 'aying fu(( and c(ose attention to
the givens of (ife, i.e., to what is so ever.'resent that
it is usua((y ta%en for granted. The true wonder of the
wor(d is avai(ab(e everywhere, in the minutest 'arts
of our bodies, in the vast e/'anses of the cosmos,
and in the intimate interconnectedness of these and
a(( things. . . . <e are 'art of a fine(y ba(anced
ecosystem in which interde'endency goes hand.in.
hand with individuation. <e are a(( individua(s, but
we are a(so 'arts of a greater who(e, united in
something vast and beautifu( beyond descri'tion.
$erce'tion of the miracu(ous is the sub8ective essence
of se(f rea(iFation, the root from which man"s highest
features and e/'eriences grow. H
In thin%ing about mirac(es, I be(ieve that our frame of
reference has been too dramatic. <e have been (oo%ing
;@A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
for the burning bush, the 'arting of the sea, the be((owing
voice from heaven. Instead we shou(d be (oo%ing at the
ordinary day.to.day events in our (ives for evidence of the
miracu(ous, main.
H !ichae( #tar% and !ichae( <ashburn, 9eyond the
Norm0 ) #'ecu(ative !ode( of #e(f.Rea(iFation, Cournal o"
Religion and 2ealth, Do(. *C, No. * 4*+,,5, ''. 2-.2+.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2#7
taining at the same time a scientific orientation. This is
what I sha(( be doing in the ne/t section as I e/amine
ordinary occurrences in the 'ractice of 'sychiatry which
have (ed me to an understanding of the e/traordinary
'henomenon of grace...
9ut I wou(d (i%e to conc(ude on another note of caution.
This interface between science and re(igion can be sha%y,
dangerous ground. <e sha(( be dea(ing with e/trasensory
'erce'tion and 'sychic or 'aranorma( 'henomena as
we(( as other varieties of the miracu(ous. It is essentia(
that we %ee' our wits about us. I recent(y attended a
conference on the sub8ect of faith hea(ing at which a
number of we((.educated s'ea%ers 'resented anecdota(
evidence to indicate that they or others were 'ossessors
of hea(ing 'ower in such a manner as to suggest their
evidence to be rigorous and scientific when it was not. If a
hea(er (ays hands on a 'atient"s inf(amed 8oint and the
ne/t day the 8oint is no (onger inf(amed, this does not
mean that the 'atient has been hea(ed by the hea(er.
Inf(amed 8oints usua((y become uninf(amed sooner or
(ater, s(ow(y or sudden(y, no matter what is done unto
them. The fact that two events occur together in time
does not necessari(y mean that they are causa((y re(ated.
9ecause this who(e area is so mur%y and ambiguous, it is
a(( the more im'ortant that we a''roach it with hea(thy
s%e'ticism (est we mis(ead ourse(ves and others. )mong
the ways that others may he mis(ed, for instance, is by
'erceiving the (ac% of s%e'ticism and rigorous rea(ity.
testing so often 'resent in those individua(s who are
'ub(ic 'ro'onents of the rea(ity of 'sychic 'henomena.
#uch individua(s give the fie(d a bad name. 9ecause the
fie(d of 'sychic 'henomena attracts so many 'eo'(e with
'oor rea(ity.testing, it is tem'ting for more rea(istic
observers to conc(ude that 'sychic 'henomena
themse(ves are unrea( a(though such is not the case.
There are many who attem't to find sim'(e answers to
hard >uestions, marrying 'o'u(ar scientific and re(igious
conce'ts with high ho'es but (itt(e thought. The fact that
many such marriages fai( shou(d not be ta%en to mean
;@: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
that marriage is either im'ossib(e or inadvisab(e. 9ut 8ust as it
is essentia( that our sight not be cri''(ed by scientific tunne(
vision, so a(so is it essentia( that our critica( facu(ties and
ca'acity for s%e'ticism not be b(inded by the bri((iant beauty
of the s'iritua( rea(m.
+E!TI4/ I@
(RA!E
;@? =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The 5iracle o" 2ealth
A%aJing graceK 2o seet the
sound That saved a retch li'e
%eK
I once as lost, $ut no a%
"ound, Was $lind, $ut no I see.
8
It as grace that taught %y heart to
"ear, And grace %y "ears relieved=
2o .recious did that grace
a..ear The hour I "irst $elievedK
Through %any dangers, toils and
snares, I have already co%e=
878isgrace $ath $rought %e sa"e thus
"ar, And grace ill lead %e ho%e.
And hen e8ve $een there ten thousand
years, 9right shining as the sun,
We8ll have no less days to sing (od8s
.raise Then hen e "irst $egun. &
;@B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The first word associated with grace in this famous ear(y
)merican evange(ica( hymn is amaFing. #omething amaFes
us when it is not in the ordinary course of things, when it is
not 'redictab(e by what we %now of natura( (aw. <hat
fo((ows wi(( demonstrate grace to be a common 'henomenon
and, to a certain e/tent, a 'redictab(e one. 9ut the rea(ity of
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 20;
@AC =R)C6
grace wi(( remain une/'(ainab(e within the conce'tua(
frame.wor% of conventiona( science and natura( (aw as
we under.stand it. It wi(( remain miracu(ous and amaFing.
There are a number of as'ects of the 'ractice of
'sychiatry which never cease to amaFe me as we(( as
many other 'sychiatrists. One of these is the fact that our
'atients are amaFing(y hea(thy menta((y. It is customary
for other medica( s'ecia(ists to accuse 'sychiatrists of
'racticing an ine/act and unscientific disci'(ine. The fact
of the matter, however, is that more is %nown about the
causes of neurosis than is %nown about the vast ma8ority
of other human disorders. Through 'sychoana(ysis it is
'ossib(e to trace the etio(ogy and deve(o'ment of a
neurosis in an individua( 'atient with an e/actitude and
'recision that is se(dom matched e(sewhere in medicine.
It is 'ossib(e to come to %now e/act(y and 'recise(y how,
when, where and why an individua( deve(o's a 'articu(ar
neurotic sym'tom or behavior 'attern. It is a(so 'ossib(e
to %now with e>ua( e/actitude and 'recision 8ust how,
when, where and why a 'articu(ar neurosis can be cured
or has been hea(ed. <hat we do not %now, however, is
why the neurosis is not more severe.why our mi(d(y
neurotic 'atient is not severe(y neurotic, why our
severe(y neurotic 'atient is not tota((y 'sychotic.
Inevitab(y we find that a 'atient has suffered a trauma or
traumas of a 'articu(ar >ua(ity so as to 'roduce a
'articu(ar neurosis, but the traumas are of an intensity
that in the ordinary course o" things shou(d have been
e/'ected to 'roduce a neurosis more severe than the one
the 'atient has.
) thirty.five.year.o(d remar%ab(y successfu(
businessman came to see me because of a neurosis that
cou(d on(y be de.scribed as mi(d. He was born
i((egitimate, and through in.fancy and ear(y chi(dhood
was raised so(e(y by his mother, who was both deaf and
dumb, in the s(ums of Chicago. <hen he was five years
;=9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
o(d the state, be(ieving that no such mother cou(d be
com'etent to raise a chi(d, too% him away from her
without warning or e/'(anation and '(aced him in a
succession of three foster homes, where he was treated
to rather routine indignities and with a tota( absence of
affection. )t
The 5i racl e o" 2eal th
2#7
the age of fifteen he became 'artia((y 'ara(yFed as the
resu(t of a ru'ture of a congenita( aneurysm of one of the
b(ood vesse(s in his brain. )t si/teen he (eft his fina( set
of foster 'arents and began (iving by himse(f. $redictab(y,
at the age of seventeen he was 8ai(ed for a 'articu(ar(y
vicious and meaning(ess assau(t. He received no
'sychiatric treatment in 8ai(.
U'on his re(ease, after si/ months of boring
confinement, the authorities got him a 8ob as a menia(
stoc%.room c(er% in a rather ordinary com'any. No
'sychiatrist or socia( wor%er in the wor(d wou(d have
foreseen his future as anything but grim. <ithin three
years, however, he had become the youngest de'artment
head in the history of the com'any. In five years, after
marrying another e/ecutive, he (eft the com'any and
eventua((y succeeded in his own business, becoming a
re(ative(y wea(thy man. 9y the time he entered treatment
with me he had in addition become a (oving and effective
father, a se(f.educated inte((ectua(, a community (eader
and an accom'(ished artist. How, when, why, where did
this a(( come about& <ithin the ordinary conce'ts of
causa(ity, I do not %now. Together we were ab(e to trace
with e/actitude, within the usua( framewor% of cause and
effect, the determinants of his mi(d neurosis and hea(
him. <e were not ab(e in the s(ightest degree to
determine the origins of his un'redictab(e success.
This case is >uoted 'recise(y because the observab(e
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 202
traumas were so dramatic and the circumstances of his
success so obvious. In the vast ma8ority of cases the
traumas of chi(dhood are considerab(y more subt(e
4a(though usua((y e>ua((y devastating5 and the evidence
of hea(th (ess sim'(e, but the 'at.tern is basica((y the
same. One se(dom sees 'atients, for instance, who are
not basica((y hea(thier menta((y than their 'arents. <e
%now very we(( why 'eo'(e become menta((y i((. <hat we
don"t understand is why 'eo'(e survive the traumas of
their (ives as we(( as they do. <e %now e/act(y why
certain 'eo'(e commit suicide. <e don"t %now, within the
ordinary conce'ts of causa(ity, why certain others don"t
commit suicide. )(( we can say is that there is a force,
the mechanics of
@A- =R)C6
which we do not fu((y understand, that seems to o'erate
routine(y in most 'eo'(e to 'rotect and to foster their
menta( hea(th even under the most adverse conditions.
)(though the 'rocesses invo(ved in menta( disorders
fre>uent(y do not corres'ond to the 'rocesses of
'hysica( disorders, in this res'ect they a''arent(y do. <e
%now a great dea( more about the causes of 'hysica(
disease than we do about the causes of 'hysica( hea(th.
)s% any 'hysician, for instance, what causes
meningococca( meningitis and the instant res'onse wi((
be, <hy, the meningococcus, of course. There is a
'rob(em here, however. If this winter I were to ma%e
dai(y cu(tures of this bacterium from the throats of the
inhabitants of the sma(( vi((age in which I ma%e my
home, I wou(d discover it (iving there at some 'oint in
a''ro/imate(y nine out of ten 'eo'(e. 7et no one in my
(itt(e vi((age has suffered from meningococca( meningitis
for many years, nor is (i%e(y to do so this winter. <hat is
ha''ening here& !eningococca( meningitis is a re(ative(y
rare disease, yet the causative agent is e/treme(y
;=@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
common. $hysicians use the conce't of resistance to
e/'(ain this 'henomenon, 'ostu(ating that the body 'os.
sesses a set of defenses that resist invasion of the body
cavities by meningococcus as we(( as a who(e host of
other ubi>uitous disease.'roducing organisms. There is no
>uestion that this is true: we actua((y %now a good dea(
about these defenses and how they o'erate. 9ut
enormous >uestions remain. <hi(e some of the 'eo'(e in
the nation who wi(( die from meningococca( meningitis
this winter wi(( be debi(itated or otherwise %nown to have
a defective resistance, the ma8ority wi(( be 'revious(y
hea(thy individua(s with no %nown defects in their
resistance systems. On a certain (eve(, we wi(( be ab(e to
say with confidence that meningococcus was the cause
of their death, but this (eve( is c(ear(y su'erficia(. On a
dee'er (eve(, we wi(( not %now why they died. The most
we wi(( be ab(e to say is that the forces that norma((y
'rotect our (ives somehow fai(ed to o'erate in them.
)(though the conce't of resistance is most common(y a'.
'(ied to the infectious diseases, such as meningitis, it can
a(so
The 5iracle o" 2ealth @A+
be a''(ied to a(( 'hysica( disease in one way or another,
e/ce't that in the instance of noninfectious disease we
have a(most no %now(edge of how resistance wor%s. )n
individua( may suffer a sing(e, re(ative(y mi(d attac% of
u(cerative co( i ti s.a disorder genera((y acce'ted to be
'sychosomatic.recover com'(ete(y, and go on to (ive
through (ife without ever again e/'eriencing this
difficu(ty. )nother may have re'eated at.tac%s and
become chronica((y cri''(ed by the disorder. ) third
may demonstrate a fu(minating course and go on to die
ra'id(y from even the first attac%. The disease a''ears
to be the same, but the outcome is tota((y different.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 200
<hy& <e have no idea e/ce't to say that individua(s
with a certain 'ersona(ity 'attern seem to have
different ty'es of difficu(ty in resisting the disorder
whi(e the vast ma8ority of us have no difficu(ty
whatsoever. How does this ha''en& <e don"t %now.
These %inds of >uestions can be as%ed about a(most a((
diseases, inc(uding the most common ones, such as
heart at.tac%s, stro%es, cancer, 'e'tic u(cers, and
others. )n increasing number of thin%ers are beginning
to suggest that a(most a(( disorders are 'sychosomatic.
that the 'syche is somehow invo(ved in the causation of
the various fai(ures that occur in the resistance system.
9ut the amaFing thing is not these fai(ures of the
resistance system: it is that the resistance system
wor%s as we(( as it does. In the ordinary course of
things we shou(d be eaten a(ive by bacteria, consumed
by cancer, c(ogged u' by fats and c(ots, eroded by
acids. It is hard(y remar%ab(e that we sic%en and die:
what is tru(y remar%ab(e is that we don"t usua((y sic%en
very often and we don
"
t die very >uic%(y. <e can
therefore say the same thing about 'hysica( disorders
that we said about menta( disorders0 There is a force,
the mechanism of which we do not fu((y understand,
that seems to o'erate routine(y in most 'eo'(e to
'rotect and encourage their 'hysica( hea(th even under
the most adverse conditions.
The matter of accidents raises further interesting
>uestions. !any 'hysicians and most 'sychiatrists
have had the e/'erience of coming face to face with
the 'henomenon of accident.'roneness. )mong the
many e/am'(es in my career the most
@B3 =R)C6
dramatic was that of a fourteen.year.o(d boy whom I was
as%ed to see as 'art of his admission to a residentia(
;=A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
treatment center for de(in>uent youths. His mother had
died in the month of November of his eighth year. In
November of his ninth year he fe(( from a (adder and
fractured his humerus 4u''er arm5. In November of his
tenth year he was in a bi%e accident and sustained a
fractured s%u(( and severe concussion. In November of
his e(eventh year he fe(( through a s%y(ight, fracturing his
hi'. In November of his twe(fth year he fe(( from his
s%ateboard and fractured his wrist. In November of his
thirteenth year he was hit by a car, sustaining a
fractured 'e(vis. No one wou(d >uestion that this boy was
indeed accident.'rone, or the reason why. 9ut how did
these accidents occur& The boy did not conscious(y
cause himse(f to be hurt. Neither was he conscious of his
grief over his mother
"
s death, b(and(y te((ing me he had
forgotten a(( about her. To begin to understand the
>uestion of how these accidents occurred, I thin% we
need to a''(y the conce't of resistance to the
'henomenon of accidents as we(( as to the 'henomenon
of disease, to thin% in terms of accident.resistance as
we(( as accident.'roneness. It is not sim'(y that certain
'eo'(e at certain times in their (ives are accident.'rone: it
is a(so that in the ordinary course of things most of us
are accident.resistant.
One winter day when I was nine, carrying my boo%s
home from schoo( across a snowy street as the (ight was
turning, I s(i''ed and fe((. 9y the time a ra'id(y
a''roaching car s%idded to a sto' my head was even
with the front fender: my (egs and torso were underneath
the midd(e of the car. I 'u((ed myse(f out from under the
car and, in a 'anic, ran off home unharmed. 9y itse(f this
incident does not seem so remar%.ab(e: one might sim'(y
say I was (uc%y. 9ut 'ut it together with a(( the other
instances0 times I 8ust missed being hit by cars whi(e on
foot, on a bicyc(e or driving: times when I was driving a
car and a(most struc% 'edestrians or bare(y missed bi%e
riders in the dar%: times when I 8ammed on the bra%es,
coming to a sto' no more than an inch or two from
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 207
another
The 5iracle o" 2ealth @B*
vehic(e: times when I narrow(y missed s%iing into trees, a(.
most fe(( out of windows: times when a swinging go(f c(ub
brushed through my hair, and so on. <hat is this& Do I
(ead a charmed e/istence& If readers e/amine their own
(ives at this 'oint, I sus'ect the ma8ority wi(( find in their
own 'ersona( e/'eriences simi(ar 'atterns of re'eated
narrow(y averted disasters, a number of accidents that
a(most ha''ened that is many times greater than the
number of accidents that actua((y did ha''en.
;urthermore, I be(ieve readers wi(( ac%now(edge that their
'ersona( 'atterns of surviva(, of accident.resistance, are
not the resu(t of any 'rocess of conscious decision.ma%ing.
Cou(d it be that most of us do (ead charmed (ives& Cou(d
it rea((y be that the (ine in the song is true0 "Tis grace hath
brought me safe thus far&
#ome may thin% that there is nothing e/citing about a((
this, that a(( the things we have been ta(%ing about are
sim'(y manifestations of the surviva( instinct. 9ut does the
naming of something e/'(ain it& Does the fact that we have
an instinct to survive seem humdrum because we have
ca((ed it an instinct& Our understanding of the origins and
mechanisms of instincts is minuscu(e at best. )ctua((y, the
matter of accidents suggests that our tendency toward
surviva( may be something other than, and even more
miracu(ous than, an instinct, which is a 'henomenon
miracu(ous enough in itse(f. <hi(e we understand hard(y
anything about instincts, we do conceive of them as
o'erating within the boundaries of the individua( who
'ossesses them. Resistance to menta( disorders or 'hysica(
disease we can imagine being (oca(iFed within the
unconscious mind or bodi(y 'rocesses of the individua(. )c.
cidents, however, invo(ve interactions between individua(s
or between individua(s and inanimate things. Did the
whee(s of the man"s car fai( to run over me when I was
nine because of my surviva( instinct or because the driver
;=: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
'ossessed an instinctua( resistance to %i((ing me& $erha's
we have an instinct not on(y to 'reserve our own (ives but
a(so to 'reserve the (ives of others.
<hi(e I have 'ersona((y not e/'erienced this, I have
severa(
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 20:
@B@ =R)C6
friends who have witnessed automobi(e accidents in
which

victims

have craw(ed virtua((y intact out of

vehic(es smashed beyond recognition. Their reaction has
been one of 'ure amaFement. I don"t see how anyone
cou(d have survived such a wrec% at a((, much (ess
without serious in8ury1 is the 'ronouncement. How do
we e/'(ain this& $ure chance& These friends, who are
not re(igious 'eo'(e, were amaFed 'recise(y because
chance did not seem to be invo(ved in these incidents.
No one cou(d have survived, they say. )(though not
re(igious, and without even thin%ing dee'(y about what
they were saying, in attem'ting to digest these
e/'eriences my friends made such remar%s as <e((, I
guess =od (oves drun%s or I guess his number wasn"t
u' yet. The reader may choose to assign the mystery of
such incidents to 'ure chance, an une/'(ainab(e
>uir% or a twist of fate and be satisfied thus to c(ose
the door on further e/'(oration. If we are to e/amine
such incidents further, however, our conce't of an
instinct to e/'(ain them is not terrib(y satisfactory. Does
the inanimate machinery of a motor vehic(e 'ossess an
instinct to co((a'se itse(f in 8ust such a manner as to
'reserve the contours of the human body within& Or
does the human being 'ossess an instinct at the
moment of im'act to conform his contours to the
'attern of the co((a'sing machinery& #uch >uestions
seem inherent(y absurd. <hi(e I choose to e/'(ore
;=B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
further the 'ossibi(ity that such incidents have an
e/'(anation, it is c(ear that our traditiona( conce't of
instinct wi(( not be of he('. Of more assistance 'erha's
wi(( be the conce't of synchronicity. 9efore considering
the conce't of synchronicity, however, it wi(( be he('fu(
to first e/amine some as'ects of the functioning of that
'art of the human mind which we ca(( the unconscious.
The 5i racl e o" the Fnconsci ous
<hen beginning to wor% with a new 'atient I wi(( fre.
>uent(y draw a (arge circ(e. Then at the circumference I
wi(( draw a sma(( niche. $ointing to the inside of the niche,
I say, That re'resents your conscious mind. )(( the rest
of the circ(e, +2 'ercent or more, re'resents your
unconscious. If you wor% (ong enough and hard enough to
understand your.se(f, you wi(( come to discover that this
vast 'art of your mind, of which you now have (itt(e
awareness, contains riches beyond imagination.
One of the ways, of course, that we %now of the
e/istence of this vast but hidden rea(m of the mind and
the wea(th it contains is through our dreams. ) man of
some 'rominence came to see me for a de'ression of
many years" duration. He found no 8oy in his wor%, but
had (itt(e idea why. )(though his 'arents were re(ative(y
'oor and un%nown, a number of his father"s forebears had
been famous men. !y 'atient made (itt(e mention of them.
His de'ression was caused by many factors. On(y after
some months did we begin to consider the matter of his
ambition. To the session fo((owing the one in which the
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 25;
sub8ect of ambition was first raised he brought a dream
from the night before, a fragment of which fo((ows0 <e
were in an a'artment fi((ed with huge, o''ressive 'ieces
of furniture. I was much younger than I am now. !y father
wanted me to sai( across the bay to 'ic% u' a boat he had
for some reason (eft on an is(and across the bay. I was
eager to ma%e this 8ourney and as%ed him how I cou(d
find the boat. He too% me to one side where there was this
'articu(ar(y huge and o''ressive 'iece of furniture, an
enormous chest, at (east
;A9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
@BB =R)C6
twe(ve feet (ong and e/tending a(( the way u' to the
cei(ing, with maybe twenty or thirty gigantic drawers in
it, and to(d me I cou(d find the boat if I sighted a(ong the
edge of the chest.

Initia((y the meaning of the dream

was unc(ear, so, as is customary, I as%ed him to
associate to this huge chest of drawers. Immediate(y he
said, ;or some reason.maybe be.cause the 'iece
seemed so o''ressive.it ma%es me thin% of a
sarco'hagus. <hat about the drawers, I as%ed.
#udden(y he grinned. !aybe I wanted to %i(( off a(( my
ancestors, he said. It ma%es me thin% of a fami(y tomb
or vau(t, each one of the drawers big enough to ho(d a
body. The meaning of the dream was then c(ear. He had
indeed in his youth been given a sighting, a sighting for
(ife, a(ong the tombs of his famous dead 'aterna(
ancestors, and had been fo((owing this sighting toward
fame. 9ut he found it an o''ressive force in his (ife and
wished that he cou(d 'sycho(ogica((y %i(( off his
ancestors so as to he free from this com'u(sive force.
)nyone who has wor%ed much with dreams wi((
recogniFe this one to be ty'ica(. I wou(d (i%e to focus on
its he('fu(ness as one of the res'ects in which it is
ty'ica(. This man had started to wor% on a 'rob(em.
)(most immediate(y his unconscious 'roduced a drama
that e(ucidated the cause of his 'rob(em, a cause of
which he had 'revious(y been unaware. It did this
through use of symbo(s in a manner as e(egant as that
of the most accom'(ished '(aywright. It is difficu(t to
imagine that any other e/'erience occurring at this
'oint in his thera'y cou(d have been as e(o>uent(y
edifying to him and me as this 'articu(ar dream. His
unconscious c(ear(y seemed to want to assist him and
our wor% together, and did so with consummate s%i((.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 252
It is 'recise(y because they are so routine(y he('fu(
that 'sychothera'ists genera((y ma%e the ana(ysis of
dreams a significant 'art of their wor%. I must confess
that there are many dreams whose significance
com'(ete(y e(udes me, and it is tem'ting to wish
'etu(ant(y that the unconscious wou(d often have the
decency to s'ea% to us in c(earer (anguage. However, on
those occasions when we succeed in ma%ing the trans(a.
The 5iracle o" the Fnconscious 205
tion, the message a(ways seems to be one designed to
nurture our s'iritua( growth. In my e/'erience, dreams that
can be inter'reted invariab(y 'rovide he('fu( information to
the dreamer. This assistance comes in a variety of forms0 as
warnings of 'ersona( 'itfa((s: as guides to the so(ution of
'rob(ems we have been unab(e to so(ve: as 'ro'er indication
that we are wrong when we thin% we are right, and as
correct encouragement that we are right when we thin% we
are 'robab(y wrong: as sources of necessary information
about ourse(ves that we are (ac%ing: as direction.finders
when we fee( (ost: and as 'ointers to the way we need to go
when we are f(oundering.
The unconscious may communicate to us when we are
awa%e with as much e(egance and beneficence as when we
are as(ee', a(though in a s(ight(y different form. This is the
form of id(e thoughts, or even fragments of thoughts. !ost
of the time, as with dreams, we 'ay these id(e thoughts no
attention and cast them aside as if they were without
significance. It is for this reason that 'atients in
'sychoana(ysis are instructed again and again to say
hatever comes into their minds no matter how si((y or
insignificant it may initia((y seem. <hen.ever a 'atient says,
It"s ridicu(ous, but this si((y thought %ee's coming to my
mind.it doesn"t ma%e any sense, but you"ve to(d me I have
to say these things, I %now that we have hit 'ay dirt, that
the 'atient has 8ust received an e/treme(y va(uab(e
message from the unconscious, a message that wi((
significant(y i((uminate his or her situation. <hi(e these id(e
;A@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
thoughts usua((y 'rovide us with insight into our.se(ves,
they may a(so 'rovide us with dramatic insights into others
or into the wor(d outside ourse(ves. )s an e/am'(e of an
id(e thought message from the unconscious, and one that
fa((s into the (atter category, (et me describe an e/'erience
of my own mind whi(e wor%ing with a 'atient. The 'atient
was a young woman who was suffering since ear(y
ado(escence from a sensation of diFFiness, a sensation that
she was about to to''(e over any moment, for which no
'hysica( cause had ever been found. 9ecause of this
sensation of diFFiness she wa(%ed with a straight.(egged,
wide.based gait, a(most a wad.
@BC =R)C6
die. #he was >uite inte((igent and charming, and initia((y
I had no idea as to what might be causing her diFFiness,
of which 'sychothera'y of some years" duration had
fai(ed to cure her, but for which she had nonethe(ess
recent(y come to me for assistance. In the midd(e of our
third session, as she was comfortab(y seated and ta(%ing
about this or that, a sing(e word sudden(y 'o''ed into
my mind0 $inocchio. I was trying to concentrate on
what my 'atient was saying, so I immediate(y 'ushed
the word out of consciousness. 9ut within a minute,
des'ite myse(f, the word came bac% into my mind,
a(most visib(e, as if s'e((ed out in the bac% of my eyes0 $
i n o c c h i o. )nnoyed now, I b(in%ed my eyes and
forced my attention bac% to my 'atient. 7et, as if it had
a wi(( of its own, within another minute the word was
bac% into my awareness, somehow demanding to be
recogniFed. <ait a second,

I fina((y said to myse(f, if

this word is so an/ious to get into my mind, maybe I"d
better damn we(( 'ay attention to it, because I %now
these things can be im'ortant, and I %now if my
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 250
unconscious is trying to say something to me I ought to
(isten. #o I did. $inocchio1 <hat the he(( cou(d
$inocchio mean& 7ou don
"
t su''ose it cou(d have
anything to do with my 'atient, do you& 7ou don"t
su''ose she"s $inocchio, is she& Hey, wait a minute:
she
"
s cute, (i%e a (itt(e do((. #he"s dressed in red, white
and b(ue. 6ach time she"s been here she
"
s been dressed
in red, white and b(ue. #he wa(%s funni(y, (i%e a stiff.
(egged wooden so(dier. Hey, that"s it1 #he"s a 'u''et. 9y
=od, she is $inocchio1 #he"s a 'u''et1 Instant(y the
essence of the 'atient was revea(ed to me0 she was not
a rea( 'erson: she was a stiff, wooden (itt(e 'u''et
trying to act a(ive but afraid that at any moment she
wou(d to''(e over and co((a'se in a tang(e of stic%s and
strings. One by one the su''orting facts ra'id(y
emerged0 an incredib(y domineering mother who 'u((ed
strings, who too% great 'ride in having toi(et.trained her
daughter overnight

: a wi(( tota((y devoted to fu(fi((ing

the e/terna( e/'ectations of others, to being c(ean,
neat, 'ro'er, tidy and saying a(( the right things,
The 5iracle o" the Fnconscious 207
frantica((y trying to 8ugg(e the demands u'on her: a tota(
(ac% of se(f.motivation and abi(ity to ma%e autonomous
decisions.
This immense(y va(uab(e insight about my 'atient
'resented itse(f to my awareness as an unwe(come
intruder. I had not invited it. I did not want it. Its
'resence seemed a(ien to me and irre(evant to the
business in which I was engaged, a need(ess distraction.
Initia((y I resisted it, attem'ting severa( times to %ic% it
out the door through which it had come. This seeming(y
a(ien and unwanted >ua(ity is characteristic of un.
conscious materia( and its manner of 'resentation to the
conscious mind. It was 'art(y because of this >ua(ity and
;AA =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
the associated resistance of the conscious mind that
;reud and his initia( fo((owers tended to 'erceive the
unconscious as a re'ository of the 'rimitive, the
antisocia( and the evi( within us. It is as if they assumed,
from the fact that our consciousness did not want it,
that unconscious materia( was therefore bad. )(ong
these same (ines, they tended to assume that menta(
i((ness somehow resided in the unconscious as a demon
in the subterranean de'ths of our mind. To Gung fe(( the
res'onsibi(ity of initiating a correction in this view,
which he did in a variety of ways, inc(uding coining the
'hrase0 The <isdom of the Unconscious. !y own
e/'erience has confirmed Gung"s views in this regard to
the 'oint where I have come to conc(ude that menta(
i((ness is not a 'roduct of the unconscious: it is instead a
'henomenon of consciousness or a disordered
re(ationshi' between the conscious and the unconscious.
Consider the matter of re'ression, for instance. ;reud
discovered in many of his 'atients se/ua( desires and
hosti(e fee(ings of which they were not aware yet which
were c(ear(y ma%ing them i((. 9ecause these desires and
fee(ings resided in the unconscious, the notion arose
that it was the unconscious that

caused menta( i((ness.

9ut why were these desires and fee(ings (ocated in the
unconscious in the first '(ace& <hy were they
re'ressed& The answer is that the conscious mind did
not want them. )nd it is in this not.wanting, this
disowning, that the 'rob(em (ies. The 'rob(em is not
@B- =R)C6
that human beings have such hosti(e and se/ua( fee(ings, but
rather that human beings have a conscious mind that is so
often unwi((ing to face these fee(ings and to(erate the 'ain of
dea(ing with them, and that is so wi((ing to swee' them under
the rug.
) third way in which the unconscious manifests itse(f and
s'ea%s to us if we care to (isten 4which we usua((y don"t5 is
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 257
through our behavior. I am referring to s(i's of the tongue
and other mista%es

in behavior, or ;reudian s(i's,

which
;reud, in his Psycho.athology o" Everyday Li"e, initia((y
demonstrated to be manifestations of the unconscious.
;reud"s use of the word 'sycho'atho(ogy to describe these
'henomenon is again indicative of his negative orientation
toward the unconscious: he 'erceived it as acting a s'itefu(
ro(e or at (east a mischievous devi( trying to tri' us u' rather
than seeing it as a %ind of good fairy wor%ing very hard to
ma%e us honest. <hen a 'atient ma%es a s(i' in
'sychothera'y, the event is invariab(y he('fu( to the 'rocess
of thera'y or hea(ing. )t these times the conscious mind of
the 'atient is engaged in trying to combat thera'y, intent
u'on hiding the true nature of the se(f from the thera'ist and
from se(f.awareness. It is the unconscious, however, that is
a((ied with the thera'ist, strugg(ing toward o'enness,
honesty, truth, and rea(ity, fighting to te(( it (i%e it is.
?et me give some e/am'(es. ) meticu(ous woman, tota((y
unab(e to ac%now(edge in herse(f the emotion of anger and
therefore unab(e to e/'ress anger o'en(y, began a 'attern of
arriving a few minutes (ate for her thera'y sessions. I sug.
gested to her that this was because she was fee(ing some re.
sentment toward me or toward thera'y or both. #he firm(y
denied that this was a 'ossibi(ity, e/'(aining that her (ateness
was 'ure(y a matter of this or that accidenta( force in (ife and
'roc(aiming her who(ehearted a''reciation of me and moti.
vation for our wor% together. On the evening fo((owing this
session she 'aid her month(y bi((s, inc(uding my own. Her
chec% to me arrived unsigned. )t her ne/t session I informed
her of this, suggesting that she had not 'aid me 'ro'er(y
The 5iracle o" the Fnconscious 206
because she was angry. #he said, 9ut that"s ridicu(ous1 I
;A: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
have never in my (ife not signed a chec%. 7ou %now how
meticu(ous I am in these matters. It is im'ossib(e that I
did not sign your chec%. I showed her the unsigned
chec%. )(though she had a(ways been e/treme(y
contro((ed in our sessions, she now sudden(y bro%e into
sobs. <hat is ha''ening to me& she wai(ed. I"m fa((ing
a'art. It"s (i%e I"m two 'eo'(e. In her agony, and with
my ac%now(edgment that she was indeed (i%e a house
divided against itse(f, she began for the first time to
acce't the 'ossibi(ity that at (east a 'art of her might
harbor the fee(ing of anger. The first ste' of 'rogress
was made. )nother 'atient with a 'rob(em with anger
was a man who be(ieved it unconscionab(e to fee(, much
(ess e/'ress, anger toward any member of his fami(y.
9ecause his sister was visiting him at the time, he was
te((ing me about her, describing her as a 'erfect(y
de(ightfu( 'erson. ?ater in the session he began te((ing
me about a sma(( dinner 'arty he was hosting that night,
which, he said, wou(d inc(ude a neighboring cou'(e and
of course, my sister.in.(aw. I 'ointed out to him that
he had 8ust referred to his sister as sister.in.(aw. I su'.
'ose you"re going to te(( me this is one of those ;reudian
s(i's, he remar%ed b(ithe(y. 7es, I am, I re'(ied. <hat
your unconsciousness is saying is that you don"t want
your sister to be your sister, that as far as you"re
concerned, she
"
s your sister.in.(aw on(y, and that
actua((y you hate her guts.

I don
"
t hate her guts,

he
res'onded, but she does ta(% incessant(y, and I %now
that at dinner tonight she wi(( mono'o(iFe the who(e
conversation. I guess maybe I am embarrassed by her
sometimes. )gain a sma(( beginning was made.
Not a(( s(i's e/'ress hosti(ity or denied negative
fee(ings. They e/'ress a(( denied fee(ings, negative or
'ositive. They e/'ress the truth, the way things rea((y
are as o''osed to the way we (i%e to thin% they are.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 25:
$erha's the most touching s(i' of the tongue in my
e/'erience was made by a young woman on her initia(
visit with me. I %new her 'arents to be distant and
insensitive individua(s who had raised her with a
@23 =R)C6
great dea( of 'ro'riety but an absence of affection or
genuine caring. #he 'resented herse(f to me as an
unusua((y mature, se(f.confident, (iberated and
inde'endent woman of the wor(d who sought treatment
from me because, she e/'(ained, I am sort of at (oose
ends for the moment, with time on my hands, and I
thought that a (itt(e bit of 'sychoana(ysis might contrib.
ute to my inte((ectua( deve(o'ment. In>uiring as to why
she was at (oose ends at the moment, I (earned that she
had 8ust dro''ed out of co((ege because she was five
months" 'regnant. #he did not want to get married. #he
vague(y thought she might 'ut the baby u' for ado'tion
fo((owing its de(ivery and then 'roceed to 6uro'e for
further education. I as%ed her if she had informed the
father of the baby, whom she had not seen for four
months, of her 'regnancy. 7es, she said, I did dro'
him a (itt(e note to (et him %now that our re(ationshi' was
the 'roduct of a chi(d. !eaning to say that a chi(d was
the 'roduct of their re(ationshi', she had instead to(d
me that underneath her mas% of a woman of the wor(d
she was a hungry (itt(e gir(, starved for affection, who
had gotten 'regnant in a des'erate attem't to obtain
mothering by becoming herse(f a mother. I did not
confront her with her s(i', because she was not at a((
ready to acce't her de'endency needs or e/'erience
them as being safe to have. Nonethe(ess, the s(i' was
he('fu( to her by he('ing me be aware that the 'erson
rea((y seeing me was a frightened young chi(d who
needed to be met with 'rotective gent(eness and the
sim'(est, a(most 'hysica( %ind of nurture 'ossib(e for a
(ong time to come.
;AB =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
These three 'atients who made s(i's were not trying to
hide themse(ves from me as much as from themse(ves.
The first rea((y be(ieved that there was no shred of
resentment in her. The second was tota((y convinced
that he bore no animosity toward any member of his
fami(y. The (ast thought of herse(f in no other way than
as a woman of the wor(d. Through a com'(e/ of factors,
our conscious se(f.conce't a(most a(ways diverges to a
greater or (esser degree from the rea(ity of the 'erson
we actua((y are. <e are a(most a(ways either (ess or
more com'etent than we be(ieve ourse(ves to be. The
uncon.
The 5i racl e o" " the Fnconsci ous 251
scious, however, %nows who we rea((y are. ) ma8or and es.
sentia( tas% in the 'rocess of one"s s'iritua( deve(o'ment is
the continuous wor% of bringing one"s conscious se(f.
conce't into 'rogressive(y greater congruence with rea(ity.
<hen a (arge 'art of this (ife(ong tas% is accom'(ished with
re(ative ra'idity, as it may be through intensive
'sychothera'y, the individua( wi(( often fee( reborn. I am
not the 'erson I was, a 'atient wi(( say with rea( 8oy about
the dramatic change in his or her consciousness: I am a
tota((y new and different 'erson. #uch a 'erson has no
difficu(ty in understanding the words of the song0 I once
was (ost, but now am found, was b(ind, but now I see.
If we identify our se(f with our se(f.conce't or se(f.aware.
ness or consciousness in genera(, then we must say
concerning the unconscious that there is a 'art of us that is
wiser than we are. <e have ta(%ed about this wisdom of
the unconscious 'rimari(y in terms of se(f.%now(edge and
se(f.reve(ation. In the e/am'(e of my 'atient whom my
unconscious revea(ed to me to be $inocchio, I attem'ted to
demonstrate that the unconscious is wiser than we are
about other 'eo'(e as we(( as ourse(ves. The fact of the
matter is that our unconscious is wiser than we are about
everything. Having arrived after dar% on a vacation in
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 27;
#inga'ore for the first time, my wife and I (eft our hote( for
a stro((. <e soon came to a (arge o'en s'ace at the far end
of which, two or three b(oc%s away, we cou(d 8ust ma%e out
in the dar%ness the vague sha'e of a siFab(e bui(ding. I
wonder what that bui(ding is, my wife said. I immediate(y
answered with casua( and tota( certainty, Oh, that"s the
#inga'ore Cric%et C(ub. The words had 'o''ed out of my
mouth with utter s'ontaneity. )(most immediate(y I
regretted them. I had no basis whatever for saying them. I
had not on(y never been in #inga'ore before, I had never
seen a cric%et c(ub before.in day(ight, much (ess in
dar%ness. 7et to my amaFement, as we wa(%ed on and
came to the other side of the bui(ding, which was its front,
there by the entrance was a brass '(a>ue reading
+inga.ore !ric'et !lu$.
How did I %now this which I did not %now& )mong the
@2@ =R)C6
'ossib(e e/'(anations, one is that of Gung"s theory of the
co((ective unconscious, in which we inherit the
wisdom of the e/'erience of our ancestors without
ourse(ves having the 'ersona( e/'erience. <hi(e this
%ind of %now(edge may seem biFarre to the scientific
mind, strange(y enough its e/istence is recogniFed in
our common everyday (anguage. Ta%e the word
recogniFe itse(f. <hen we are reading a boo% and
come across an idea or theory that a''ea(s to us, that
rings a be(( with us, we recogniFe it to be true. 7et
this idea or theory may be one of which we have never
before conscious(y thought. The word says we re.%now
the conce't, as if we %new it once u'on a time, forgot
it, but then recogniFed it as an o(d friend. It is as if a((
%now(edge and a(( wisdom were contained in our minds,
and when we (earn something new we are actua((y
on(y discovering something that e/isted in our se(f a((
a(ong. This conce't is simi(ar(y ref(ected in the word
education, which is derived from the ?atin educare,
(itera((y trans(ated as to bring out of or to (ead forth.
;>9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
Therefore when we educate 'eo'(e, if we use the word
serious(y, we do not stuff something new into their
minds: rather, we (ead this something out of them: we
bring it forth from the unconscious into their awareness.
They were the 'ossessors of the %now(edge a(( a(ong.
9ut what is its source, this 'art of us that is wiser
than we are& <e do not %now. Gung"s theory of the
co((ective unconscious suggests that our wisdom is
inherited. Recent scientific e/'eriments with genetic
materia( in con8unction with the 'henomenon of
memory suggest that it is indeed 'ossib(e to inherit
%now(edge, which is stored in the form of nuc(eic acid
codes within ce((s. The conce't of chemica( storage of
information a((ows us to begin to understand how the
information 'otentia((y avai(ab(e to the human mind
might be stored in a few cubic inches of brain
substance. 9ut even this e/traordinary so'histicated
mode(, a((owing for the storage of inherited as we(( as
e/'erientia( %now(edge in a sma(( s'ace, (eaves un.
answered the most mind.bogg(ing >uestions. <hen we
s'ecu(ate on the techno(ogy of such a mode(.how it
might be
The 5i racl e o" +erendi .i ty 25#
constructed, how synchroniFed, and so o n . we are sti((
(eft standing in tota( awe before the 'henomenon of the
human mind. #'ecu(ation on these matters is hard(y
different in >ua(ity from s'ecu(ation about such mode(s
of cosmic contro( as =od having at His command armies
and choirs of archange(s, ange(s, sera'hims and
cherubims to assist Him in the tas% of ordering the
universe. The mind, which sometimes 'resumes to
be(ieve that there is no such thing as a mirac(e, is itse(f
a mirac(e.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 272
The 5iracle o" +erendi.ity
<hi(e it is 'erha's 'ossib(e for us to conceive of the
e/tra.ordinary wisdom of the unconscious, as discussed
thus far, as being an u(timate(y e/'(ainab(e 'art of a
mo(ecu(ar brain o'erating with miracu(ous techno(ogy,
we sti(( have no conceivab(e e/'(anation for so.ca((ed
'sychic 'henomena, which are c(ear(y re(ated to the
o'eration of the unconscious. In a series of
so'histicated e/'eriments !ontague U((man, !.I., and
#tan(ey Eri''ner, $h.D., conc(usive(y demonstrated that
it is 'ossib(e for an awa%e individua( to re'eated(y and
routine(y transmit images to another individua(
s(ee'ing many rooms away, and that these images wi((
a''ear in the dreams of the s(ee'er. H #uch
transmission does not occur on(y in the (aboratory. ;or
instance, it is not uncommon for two individua(s %nown
to each other to inde'endent(y have the same or
H )n 6/'erimenta( )''roach to Dreams and Te(e'athy0 II
Re'ort of Three #tudies, A%erican
,
)ournal o" Psychiatry
4!arch *+,35, ''. *@-@.-+. )nyone as yet unconvinced
about the rea(ity of 6#$ or s%e'tica( of its scientific va(idity
is urged to read this artic(e.
@2B =R)C6
incredib(y simi(ar dreams. How does this ha''en& <e
don"t have the faintest idea.
9ut ha''en it does. The va(idity of such ha''enings is
scientifica((y 'roven in terms of their 'robabi(ity. I
myse(f had a dream one night that consisted of a series
of seven images. I (ater (earned that a friend, whi(e
s(ee'ing in my house two nights 'revious(y, had
awa%ened from a dream in which the same seven
images occurred in the same se>uence. He and I cou(d
;>@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
not determine any reason for this ha''ening. <e were
unab(e to re(ate the dreams to any e/'erience we had
had, shared or otherwise, nor were we ab(e to inter'ret
the dreams in any meaningfu( way. 7et we %new that
some.thing most significant had ha''ened. !y mind
has avai(ab(e to it mi((ions of images from which to
construct a dream. The 'robabi(ity that by chance a(one
I wou(d se(ect the same seven as my friend had in the
same se>uence was astronomica((y (ow. The event was
so im'(ausib(e that we %new it cou(d not have occurred
by accident.
The fact that high(y im'(ausib(e events, for which no
cause can be determined within the framewor% of
%nown natura( (aw, occur with im'(ausib(e fre>uency
has come to be %nown as the 'rinci'(e of synchronicity.
!y friend and I don"t %now the cause or reason why we
had such im'(ausib(y simi(ar dreams, but one as'ect of
the event was that we had them c(ose in time.
#omehow the timing seems the im'ortant, 'erha's
even crucia( e(ement in these im'(ausib(e events. 6ar(ier,
in the discussion of accident.'roneness and .resistance,
it was mentioned that 'eo'(e not infre>uent(y wa(%
unharmed out of vehic(es crushed beyond recognition,
and it seemed ridicu(ous to s'ecu(ate that the
machinery instinctive(y crum'(ed in a configuration to
'rotect the rider or that the rider crum'(ed instinctive(y
in a form to fit the machinery. There is no %nown natura(
(aw whereby the configuration of the vehic(e 46vent
)5 caused the rider to survive, or the form of the rider
46vent
95 caused the vehic(e to crum'(e in a certain way.
Nonethe(ess, a(though one did not cause the other,
6vent ) and 6vent
The 5iracle o" +erendi.ity 255
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 270
9 im'(ausib(y occurred synchronous(y.that is, together in
t i me. i n such a way that the rider did in fact survive. The
'rinci'(e of synchronicity does not e/'(ain why or how
this ha''ened: it sim'(y states that such im'(ausib(e
con8unctions of events in time occur more fre>uent(y than
wou(d be 'redicted by chance a(one. It does not e/'(ain
mirac(es. The 'rinci'(e serves on(y to ma%e it c(ear that
mirac(es seem to be matters of timing and matters that
are amaFing(y common.'(ace.
The incident of the simi(ar, a(most synchronous dreams
is one that >ua(ifies by virtue of its statistica(
im'robabi(ity as a genuine 'sychic or 'aranorma(
'henomenon even though the meaning of the incident is
obscure. $robab(y the meaning of at (east the ma8ority of
genuine 'sychic, 'aranorma( 'henomena is simi(ar(y
obscure. Nonethe(ess, another characteristic of 'sychic
'henomena, a'art from their statistica( im'(ausibi(ity, is
that a significant number of such occurrences seem to be
fortunate.in some way beneficia( to one or more of the
human 'artici'ants invo(ved, ) mature, high(y s%e'tica(
and res'ectab(e scientist in ana(ysis with me 8ust recent(y
recounted the fo((owing incident0 )fter our (ast session, it
was such a beautifu( day, I decided to drive home by the
route around the (a%e. )s you %now, the road around the
(a%e has a great many b(ind curves. I was a''roaching
'erha's the tenth of these curves when the thought
sudden(y occurred to me that a car cou(d be racing around
the corner far into my side of the road. <ithout any more
thought than that, I vigorous(y bra%ed my car and came
to a dead sto'. No sooner had I done this than a car did
indeed come barre(ing around the curve with its whee(s
si/ feet across the ye((ow (ine and bare(y missed me even
though I was standing sti(( on my side of the road. Had I
not sto''ed, it is inevitab(e that we wou(d have co((ided at
the curve. I have no idea what made me decide to sto'. I
cou(d have sto''ed at any one of a doFen other curves,
but I didn"t. I"ve trave(ed that road many times before,
;>A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
and whi(e I"ve had the thought that it was dangerous,
@2C =R)C6
I"ve never sto''ed before. It ma%es me wonder whether
there rea((y isn"t something to 6#$ and things (i%e that. I
don"t have any other e/'(anation.
It is 'ossib(e that occurrences statistica((y im'robab(e
to a degree to suggest they are e/am'(es of
synchronicity or the 'aranorma( are as (i%e(y to be
harmfu( as they are beneficia(. <e hear of frea%
accidents as we(( as frea% nonaccidents. 6ven though fu((
of methodo(ogic 'itfa((s, research into this issue c(ear(y
needs to be done. )t this time I can state on(y a very
firm but unscientific im'ression that the fre>uency of
such statistica((y im'robab(e occurrences that are c(ear(y
beneficia( is far greater than that in which the resu(t
seems detrimenta(. The beneficia( resu(ts of such
occurrences need not be (ife.saving: far more often they
are sim'(y (ife.enhancing or growth.'roducing. )n
e/ce((ent e/am'(e of such an occurrence is the scarab
dream e/'erience of Car( Gung, re.counted in his artic(e
On #ynchronicity and >uoted here in toto0 H
!y e/am'(e concerns a young woman 'atient,
who, in s'ite of efforts made on both sides, 'roved to
be 'sycho(ogica((y inaccessib(e. The difficu(ty (ay in
the fact that she a(ways %new better about
everything. Her e/ce((ent education had 'rovided
her with a wea'on idea((y suited to this 'ur'ose,
name(y, a high(y 'o(ished Cartesian rationa(ism with
an im'eccab(y geometrica( idea of rea(ity. )fter sev.
era( fruit(ess attem'ts to sweeten her rationa(ism
with a somewhat more human understanding, I had
to confine myse(f to the ho'e that something
une/'ected and irrationa( wou(d turn u', something
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 277
which wou(d burst the inte((ectua( retort into which
she had sea(ed herse(f. <e((, I was sitting o''osite
her one day, with my bac% to the window, (istening
to her f(ow of rhetoric. #he had had an im'ressive
dream the night before, in which someone had given
her a go(den scarab.a cost(y 'iece of 8ewe(ry. <hi(e
& The Porta$le )ung, Gose'h Cam'be((, ed. 4New 7or%0
Di%ing $ress, *+,*5, ''. 2**.*@.
The 5iracle o" +erendi.ity 257
she was sti(( te((ing me this dream, I heard
something be.hind me gent(y ta''ing on the window.
I turned around and saw that it was a fair(y (arge
f(ying insect that was %noc%ing against the window
'ane from the outside in the obvious effort to get into
the dar% room. This seemed to me very strange. I
o'ened the window immediate(y and caught the
insect in the air as it f(ew in. It was a scarabaeid
beet(e, or common rose.chafer 4Cetonia aurata5,
whose go(d.green co(or most near(y resemb(es that
of a go(den scarab. I handed the beet(e to my 'atient
with the words, Here is your scarab. The e/'erience
'unctured the desired ho(e in her rationa(ism, and
bro%e the ice of her inte((ectua( resistance. The
treatment cou(d now be continued with satisfactory
resu(ts.
<hat we are ta(%ing of here in regard to 'aranorma(
events with beneficia( conse>uences is the 'henomenon
of serendi'ity. <ebster"s Dictionary defines serendi'ity
as the gift of finding va(uab(e or agreeab(e things not
sought for. There are severa( intriguing features to this
definition. One is the terming of serendi'ity as a gift,
thereby im'(ying that some 'eo'(e 'ossess it whi(e
;>: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
others don"t, that some 'eo'(e are (uc%y and others are
not. It is a ma8or thesis of this section that grace,
manifested in 'art by va(uab(e or agreeab(e things not
sought for, is avai(ab(e to everyone, but that whi(e some
ta%e advantage of it, others do not. 9y (etting the beet(e
in, catching it, and giving it to his 'atient, Gung was
c(ear(y ta%ing advantage of it. #ome of the reasons why
and ways that 'eo'(e fai( to ta%e advantage of grace wi((
be e/'(ored (ater under the sub8ect heading of
Resistance to =race. 9ut for the moment (et me
suggest that one of the reasons we fai( to ta%e fu((
advantage of grace is that we are not fu((y aware of its
'resence.that is, we don
"
t find va(uab(e things not sought
for, because we fai( to a''reciate the va(ue of the gift
when it is given us. In other words, serendi'itous events
occur to a(( of us, but fre>uent(y we fai( to recogniFe their
serendi'itous nature: we consider such events >uite
unremar%ab(e, and conse>uent(y we fai( to ta%e fu((
advantage of them.
@2- =R)C6
;ive months ago, having two hours to s'end between
a''ointments in a certain town, I as%ed a co((eague
who (ived there if I cou(d s'end them in the (ibrary of
his house wor%ing on the rewriting of the first section
of this boo%. <hen I got there I was met by my
co((eague"s wife, a distant and reserved woman who
had never seemed to care for me very much and had
been actua((y hosti(e to me on severa( occasions in an
a(most arrogant way. <e chatted aw%ward(y for
'erha's five minutes. In the course of our su'erficia(
conversation she said she"d heard I was writing a boo%
and as%ed about the sub8ect. I to(d her it concerned
s'iritua( growth and did not e(aborate further. I then
sat down in the (ibrary to wor%. <ithin a ha(f hour I had
run into a snag. ) 'ortion of what I had written on the
sub8ect of res'onsibi(ity seemed com'(ete(y unsatisfac.
tory to me. It c(ear(y had to be e/tensive(y en(arged in
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 27:
order to ma%e meaningfu( the conce'ts I had discussed
therein, yet I fe(t this en(argement wou(d detract from
the f(ow of the wor%. On the other hand, I was unwi((ing
to de(ete the section entire(y, since I fe(t that some
mention of these conce'ts was necessary. I wrest(ed
with this di(emma for an hour, getting abso(ute(y
nowhere, becoming more and more frustrated, fee(ing
more and more he('(ess to reso(ve the situation.
)t this 'oint my co((eague"s wife >uiet(y came into
the (ibrary. Her manner was timid and hesitant,
res'ectfu(, yet somehow warm and soft, >uite un(i%e
that in any encounter I had had with her 'revious(y.
#cotty, I ho'e I"m not intruding, she said. If I am,
te(( me. I to(d her that she wasn"t, that I"d hit a snag
and was not going to be ab(e to ma%e any more
'rogress for the moment. In her hands she was carrying
a (itt(e boo%. I ha''ened to find this boo%, she said.
#ome.how I thought you might be interested in it.
$robab(y you won"t be. 9ut the thought occurred to me
that it might be he('fu( to you. I don"t %now why.
;ee(ing irritated and 'ressured, I might ordinari(y have
to(d her that I was u' to my ears in boo%s.which was
t r ue. and there was no way I cou(d get around to
reading it in the foreseeab(e future. 9ut her strange
humi(ity evo%ed a different res'onse. I to(d her I
;>B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The 5i racl e o" +erendi .i ty 256
a''reciated her %indness and wou(d try to get to it as
soon as 'ossib(e. I too% it home with me, not %nowing
when as soon as 'ossib(e

might be. 9ut that very

evening something com'e((ed me to 'ut aside a(( the
other boo%s I was consu(ting to read hers. It was a s(im
vo(ume entit(ed, How $eo'(e Change, by )((en
<hee(is. !uch of it concerned issues of res'onsibi(ity.
One cha'ter e(egant(y e/'ressed in de'th what I wou(d
have tried to say had I en(arged the difficu(t section in
my own boo%. The ne/t morning I condensed the
section of my boo% to a sma(( concise 'aragra'h, and in
a footnote referred the reader to the <hee(is boo% for
an idea( e(aboration of the sub8ect. !y di(emma was
so(ved.
This was not a stu'endous event. There were no
trum'ets to announce it. I might we(( have ignored it. I
cou(d have survived without it. Nonethe(ess, I was
touched by grace. The event was both e/traordinary
and ordinary.e/traordinary because it was high(y
un(i%e(y, ordinary because such high(y un(i%e(y
beneficia( events ha''en to us a(( the time, >uiet(y,
%noc%ing on the door of our awareness no more dra.
matica((y than the beet(e gent(y ta''ing on the
window'ane. #imi(ar sorts of events have ha''ened
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 27;
doFens of times in the months since my co((eague"s wife
(ent me her boo%. They have a(ways been ha''ening to
me. #ome of them I recogniFe. #ome of them I may ta%e
advantage of without even being aware of their
miracu(ous nature. There is no way I have of %nowing
how many I have (et s(i' by.
The *e"i ni ti on o" (race
Thus far in this section I have described a who(e
variety of 'henomena that have the fo((owing
characteristics in common0
C-D They serve to nurture.su''ort, 'rotect and
enhance . h u ma n (ife and s'iritua( growth.
4b5 The mechanism of their action is either
incom'(ete(y understandab(e 4as in the case of
'hysica( resistance and dreams5 or tota((y obscure 4as
in the case of 'aranorma( 'henomena5 according to
the 'rinci'(es of natura( (aw as inter'reted by current
scientific thin%ing.
4c5 Their occurrence is fre>uent, routine,
common'(ace and essentia((y universa( among
humanity.
C&D )(though 'otentia((y inf(uenced by human
consciousness, their origin is outside of the conscious
;:9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
wi(( and beyond the 'rocess of conscious decision.
ma%ing.
)(though genera((y regarded as se'arate, I have
come to be(ieve that their commona(ity indicates that
these 'henomena are 'art of or manifestations of a
sing(e 'henomenon0 a 'owerfu( force originating
outside of human consciousness which nurtures the
s'iritua( growth of human beings. ;or hundreds and
even thousands of years before the scientific
conce'tua(iFation of such things as immune g(obu(ins,
dream states, and the unconscious, this force has been
consistent(y recogniFed by the re(igious, who have
a''(ied to it the name of grace. )nd have sung its
'raise. )maFing grace, how sweet the sound . . .
<hat are we to d o . we who are 'ro'er(y s%e'tica(
and
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 272
The *e"inition o" (race @C*
scientific.minded.with this 'owerfu( force originating
out.side of human consciousness which nurtures the
s'iritua( growth of human beings& <e cannot touch
this force. <e have no decent way to measure it. 7et it
e/ists. It is rea(. )re we to o'erate with tunne( vision
and ignore it because it does not fit in easi(y with
traditiona( scientific conce'ts of natura( (aw& To do so
seems 'eri(ous. I do not thin% we can ho'e to a''roach
a fu(( understanding of the cosmos, of the '(ace of man
within the cosmos, and hence the nature of man%ind
itse(f, without incor'orating the 'henomenon of grace
into our conce'tua( framewor%.
7et we cannot even (ocate this force. <e have said
on(y where it is not0 residing in human consciousness.
Then, where does it reside& #ome of the 'henomena
we have discussed, such as dreams, suggest that
grace resides in the unconscious mind of the
individua(. Other 'henomena, such as synchronicity
and serendi'ity, indicate this force to e/ist beyond the
boundaries of the sing(e individua(. It is not sim'(y
because we are scientists that we have difficu(ty
(ocating grace. The re(igious, who, of course, ascribe
the origins of grace to =od, be(ieving it to be (itera((y
=od"s (ove, have through the ages had the same
difficu(ty (ocating =od. There are within theo(ogy two
(engthy and o''osing traditions in this regard0 one, the
doctrine of 6manance, which ho(ds that grace
emanates down from an e/terna( =od to men: the
other, the doctrine of Immanence, which ho(ds that
grace immanates out from the =od within the center of
man"s being.
This 'rob(em.and, for that matter, the who(e 'rob(em
of 'arado/.resu(ts from our desire, in the first '(ace, to
;:@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
(ocate things. Human beings have a 'rofound tendency
to conce'tua(iFe in terms of discrete entities. <e
'erceive the wor(d com'osed of such entities0 shi's,
shoes and sea(ing wa/, and other categories. )nd we
then tend to understand a 'henomenon by '(acing it in
a 'articu(ar category, saying it is such and such an
entity. It is either this or that, but it cannot be both.
#hi's are shi's and not shoes, I am I and you are you.
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 270
@C@ =R)C6
The I.entity is my identity and the you.entity is your
identity, and we tend to be >uite discomfited if our
identities become mi/ed u' or confused. )s we have
'revious(y noted, Hindu and 9uddhist thin%ers be(ieve
our 'erce'tion of discrete entities to be i((usion, or
maya, and modern 'hysicists, concerned with
re(ativity, wave.'artic(e 'henomena, e(ectro.
magnetism, et cetera, are becoming increasing(y aware
of the (imitations of our conce'tua( a''roach in terms
of entities. 9ut it is hard to esca'e from. Our tendency
to entity.thin%ing com'e(s us to want to (ocate things,
even such things as =od or grace and even when we
%now our tendency is interfering with our
com'rehension of these matters.
I attem't not to thin% of the individua( as a true
entity at a((, and insofar as my inte((ectua( (imitations
com'e( me to thin% 4or write5 in terms of entities, I
conceive of the boundries of the individua( as being
mar%ed by a most 'ermeab(e membrane.a fence, if
you wi((, instead of a wa((: a fence through which,
under which and over which other

entities

may c(imb,
craw( or f(ow. Gust as our conscious mind is continua((y
'artia((y 'ermeab(e to our unconscious, so is our un.
conscious 'ermeab(e to the mind without, the mind
that 'ermeates us yet is not us as entities. !ore
e(egant(y and ade>uate(y descri'tive of the situation
than the twentieth.century scientific (anguage of
'ermeab(e membranes is the fourteenth.century 4c.
*A+A5 re(igious (anguage of Dame Gu(ian, an anchoress
of Norwich, describing the re(ationshi' between grace
and the individua( entity0 ;or as the body is c(ad in
;:A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
the c(oth, and the f(esh in the s%in and the bones in the
f(esh and the heart in the who(e, so are we, sou( and
body, c(ad in the goodness of =od and enc(osed. 7ea,
and more home(y: for a(( these may wear and waste
away, but the =oodness of =od is ever who(e.H
In any case, regard(ess of how we ascribe them or
where
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 277
The 5i racle o" Evol uti on 27#
we (ocate them, the mirac(es described indicate that
our growth as human beings is being assisted by a force
other than our conscious wi((. To further understand the
nature of this force I be(ieve we can benefit from
considering yet an.other mirac(e0 the growth 'rocess of
a(( (ife itse(f, to which we have given the name
evo(ution.
The 5i racle o" Evol uti on
)(though we have not unti( now focused u'on it as a
conce't, in one way or another we have been
concerned with evo(ution throughout this boo%. #'iritua(
growth is the evo(ution of an individua(. )n individua("s
body may undergo the changes of the (ife cyc(e, but it
does not evo(ve. New 'hysica( 'atterns are not forged.
Dec(ine of 'hysica( com'etence in o(d age is an
inevitabi(ity. <ithin an individua( (ifetime, however, the
human s'irit may evo(ve dramatica((y. New 'atterns
may be forged. #'iritua( com'etence may increase
4a(though it usua((y does not5 unti( the moment of death
in advanced o(d age. Our (ifetime offers us un(imited
o''ortunities for s'iritua( growth unti( the end. <hi(e
the focus of this boo% is on s'iritua( evo(ution, the
'rocess of 'hysica( evo(ution is simi(ar to that of the
s'irit and 'rovides us with a mode( for the further
understanding of the 'rocess of s'iritua( growth and the
meaning of grace.
;:: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The most stri%ing feature of the 'rocess of 'hysica(
evo(ution is that it is a mirac(e. =iven what we
understand of the universe, evo(ution shou(d not occur:
the 'henomenon shou(d not e/ist at a((. One of the basic
natura( (aws is the second (aw of thermodynamics,
which states that energy natura((y f(ows
@CB =R)C6
from a state of greater organiFation to a state of (esser
organiFation, from a state of higher differentiation to a
state of (ower differentiation. In other words, the
universe is in a 'rocess of winding down. The e/am'(e
fre>uent(y used to describe this 'rocess is that of a
stream, which natura((y f(ows downhi((. It ta%es energy
or wor%.'um's, (oc%s, humans carrying buc%ets, or
other means. t o reverse this 'rocess, to get bac% to
the beginning, to 'ut the water bac% on to' of the hi((.
)nd this energy has to come from somewhere e(se.
#ome other energy system has to be de'(eted if this
one is to be maintained. U(timate(y, according to the
second (aw of thermodynamics, in bi((ions and bi((ions
of nears, the universe wi(( com'(ete(y wind down unti( it
reaches the (owest 'oint as an amor'hous, tota((y
disorganiFed, tota((y undifferentiated b(ob in which
nothing ha''ens any more. This state of tota(
disorganiFation and undifferentiation is termed entro'y.
The natura( downhi(( f(ow of energy toward the state
of entro'y might be termed the force of entro'y. We
can now rea(iFe that the f(ow of evo(ution is against
the force of entro'y. The 'rocess of evo(ution has been
a deve(o'ment of organisms from (ower to higher and
higher states of com'(e/ity, differentiation and
organiFation. ) virus is an e/treme(y sim'(e organism,
(itt(e more than a mo(ecu(e. ) bacterium is more
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 27:
com'(e/, more differentiated, 'ossessing a ce(( wa(( and
different ty'es of mo(ecu(es and a metabo(ism. )
'aramecium has a nuc(eus, ci(ia, and a rudimentary
digestive system. ) s'onge not on(y has ce((s but begins
to have different ty'es of ce((s interde'endent u'on
each other. Insects and fish have nervous systems with
com'(e/ methods of (ocomotion, and even socia(
organiFations. )nd so it goes, u' the sca(e of evo(ution,
a sca(e of increasing com'(e/ity and organiFation and
differentiation, with man, who 'ossesses an enormous
cerebra( corte/ and e/traordinari(y com'(e/ behavior
'atterns, being, as far as we can te((, at the to'. I state
that the 'rocess of evo(ution is a mirac(e, because
insofar as it is a 'rocess of increasing organiFation and
differentiation, it runs counter to
The 5iracle o" Evolution @C2
natura( (aw. In the ordinary course of things, we who
write and read this boo% shou(d not e/ist. H
The 'rocess of evo(ution can be diagrammed by a
'yramid, with man, the most com'(e/ but (east
numerous organism, at the a'e/, and viruses, the most
numerous but (east com'(e/ organisms, at the base0
HI=H6R OR=)NIQ)TION
;:B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
6NTRO$7
The a'e/ is thrusting out, u', forward against the force
of entro'y. Inside the 'yramid I have '(aced an arrow to
symbo(iFe this thrusting evo(utionary force, this
something

that has so successfu((y and consistent(y

defied natura( (aw over mi((ions u'on mi((ions of
generations and that must itse(f re'.resent natura( (aw
as yet undefined.
H The conce't that evo(ution runs counter to natura( (aw is
neither new nor origina(. I seem to remember someone I
studied in my co((ege days stating, 6vo(ution is an eddy in
the second (aw of thermodynamics, but I have unfortunate(y
not been ab(e to (ocate the reference. !ore recent(y the
conce't has been articu(ated by 9uc%minster ;u((er in his
boo% And It !a%e to Pass-/ot to +tay 4New 7or%0
!acmi((an, *+,C5.
@CC =R)C6
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2:;
The s'iritua( evo(ution of humanity can be simi(ar(y
diagrammed0
#$IRITU)? CO!$6T6NC6
UND6D6?O$6D #$IRITU)?IT7
)gain and again I have em'hasiFed that the 'rocess of
s'iritua( growth is an effortfu( and difficu(t one. This is
because it is conducted against a natura( resistance,
against a natura( inc(ination to %ee' things the way
they were, to c(ing to the o(d ma's and o(d ways of
doing things, to ta%e the easy 'ath. )bout this natura(
resistance, this force of entro'y as it o'erates in our
s'iritua( (ives, I wi(( have sti(( more to say short(y. 9ut as
in the case of 'hysica( evo(ution, the mirac(e is that this
resistance is overcome. <e do grow. Des'ite a(( that
resists the 'rocess, we do become better human
beings. Not a(( of us. Not easi(y. 9ut in significant
numbers humans somehow manage to im'rove
themse(ves and their cu(tures. There is a force that
somehow 'ushes us to choose the more difficu(t 'ath
whereby we can transcend the mire and muc% into
;?9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
which we are so often born.
This diagram of the 'rocess of s'iritua( evo(ution can
a''(y to the e/istence of a sing(e individua(. 6ach of us
has his or her own urge to grow, and each of us, in
e/ercising that urge, must sing(e.handed(y fight against
his or her own resistance.
The 5iracle o" Evolution 277
The diagram a(so a''(ies to humanity as a who(e. )s we
evo(ve as individua(s, so do we cause our society to
evo(ve. The cu(ture that nurtures us in chi(dhood is
nurtured by our (eadershi' in adu(thood. Those who
achieve growth not on(y en8oy the fruits of growth but
give the same fruits to the wor(d. 6vo(ving as individua(s,
we carry humanity on our bac%s. )nd so humanity
evo(ves.
The notion that the '(ane of man%ind"s s'iritua(
deve(o'ment is in a 'rocess of ascension may hard(y
seem rea(istic to a generation disi((usioned with the
dream of 'rogress. 6very.where is war, corru'tion and
'o((ution. How cou(d one reasonab(y suggest that the
human race is s'iritua((y 'rogressing& 7et that is e/act(y
what I suggest. Our very sense of disi((usionment arises
from the fact that we e/'ect more of ourse(ves than our
forebears did of themse(ves. Human behavior that we
find re'ugnant and outrageous today was acce'ted as a
matter of course yesteryear. ) ma8or focus of this boo%,
for instance, has been on the res'onsibi(i ties of
'arenthood for the s'iritua( nurture of chi(dren. This is
hard(y a radica( theme today, but severa( centuries ago
it was genera((y not even a human concern. <hi(e I find
the average >ua(ity of 'resent 'arenting a''a((ing(y
'oor, I have every reason to be(ieve it far su'erior to
that of 8ust a few generations bac%. ) recent review of an
as'ect of chi(d care begins, for instance, by noting0
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2:2
Roman (aw gave the father abso(ute contro( over his
chi(dren, whom he cou(d se(( or condemn to death
with im'unity. This conce't of abso(ute right carried
over into 6ng(ish (aw, where it 'revai(ed unti( the
fourteenth century without a''reciab(e change. In
the !idd(e )ges chi(dhood was not seen as the uni>ue
'hase of (ife we now consider it to be. It was
customary to send chi(dren as young as seven into
service or a''renticeshi', where (earning was
secondary to the (abor a chi(d 'erformed for his or
her master. The chi(d and the servant a''ear to
have been indistinguishab(e in terms of how they
were treated: even the (anguage often fai(ed to use
se'arate terms for each. It was not
;?@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
@C- =R)C6
unti( the si/teenth century that chi(dren began to be
(oo%ed on as being of 'articu(ar interest, having
im'ortant and s'ecific deve(o'menta( tas%s to
'erform, and being worthy of affection.H
9ut what is this force that 'ushes us as individua(s
and as a who(e s'ecies to grow against the natura(
resistance of our own (ethargy& <e have a(ready (abe(ed
it. It is (ove. ?ove was defined as the wi(( to e/tend
one
"
s se(f for the 'ur'ose of nurturing one"s own or
another
"
s s'iritua( growth.

<hen we grow, it is because

we are wor%ing at it, and we are wor%ing at it because
we (ove ourse(ves. It is through (ove that we e(evate
ourse(ves. )nd it is through our (ove for others that we
assist others to e(evate themse(ves. ?ove, the e/tension
of the se(f, is the very act of evo(ution. It is evo(ution in
'rogress. The evo(utionary force, 'resent in a(( of (ife,
manifests itse(f in man%ind as human (ove. )mong
humanity (ove is the mi racu(ous force that defies the
natura( (aw of entro'y.
The Al.ha and the 4%ega
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2:0
<e are sti(( (eft, however, with the >uestion as%ed at
the end of the section on (ove0 <here does (ove come
from& On(y now it can be en(arged to a 'erha's even
more basic >uestion0 <hence comes the who(e force of
evo(ution& )nd to this we can add our 'uFF(ement about
the origins of grace. ;or (ove is conscious, but grace is
not. <hence comes this 'owerfu(
;?A =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The Al .ha and the 4%ega 276
force originating outside of human consciousness which
nurtures the s'iritua( growth of human beings&
<e cannot answer these >uestions in the same
scientific ay we can answer where f(our or stee( or
maggots come from. It is not sim'(y that they are too
intangib(e, but more that they are too basic for our
science as it current(y e/ists. ;or these are not the
on(y basic >uestions that science cannot answer. Do we
rea((y %now what e(ectricity is, for instance& Or where
energy comes from in the first '(ace& Or the uni verse&
$erha's someday our science of answers wi(( catch u'
with the most basic >uestions. Unti( then, if ever, we can
on(y s'ecu(ate, theoriFe, 'ostu(ate, hy'othesiFe.
To e/'(ain the mirac(es of grace and evo(ution we
hy'othesiFe the e/istence of a =od who wants us to
gr ow. a =od who (oves us. To many this hy'othesis
seems too sim'(e, too easy: too much (i%e fantasy:
chi(d(i%e and naive. 9ut what e(se do we have& To ignore
the data by using tunne( vision is not an answer. <e
cannot obtain an answer by not as%ing the >uestions.
#im'(e though it may be, no one who has observed the
data and as%ed the >uestions has been ab(e to 'roduce
a better hy'othesis or even rea((y a hy'othesis at a((.
Unti( someone does, we are stuc% with this strange(y
chi(d(i%e notion of a (oving =od or e(se with a theoretica(
vacuum.
)nd if we ta%e it serious(y, we are going to find that
this sim'(e notion of a (oving =od does not ma%e for an
easy 'hi(oso'hy.
If we 'ostu(ate that our ca'acity to (ove, this urge to
grow and evo(ve, is somehow breathed into us by =od,
then we must as% to what end. <hy does =od want us to
grow& <hat are we growing toward& <here is the end
'oint, the goa( of evo(ution& <hat is it that =od wants of
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2:7
us& It is not my intention here to become invo(ved in
theo(ogica( niceties, and I ho'e the scho(ar(y wi(( forgive
me if I cut through a(( the ifs, ands, and buts of 'ro'er
s'ecu(ative theo(ogy. ;or no matter how much we may
(i%e to 'ussyfoot around it, a(( of us who 'ostu(ate a
(oving =od and rea((y thin% about it eventua((y
@,3 =R)C6
come to a sing(e terrifying idea0 =od wants us to
become Himse(f 4or Herse(f or Itse(f5. <e are growing
toward god.hood. =od is the goa( of evo(ution. It is =od
who is the source of the evo(utionary force and =od who
is the destination. That is what we mean when we say
that He is the )('ha and the Omega, the beginning and
the end.
<hen I said that this is a terrifying idea I was s'ea%ing
mi(d(y. It is a very o(d idea, but, by the mi((ions, we run
away from it in sheer 'anic. ;or no idea ever came to
the mind of man which '(aces u'on us such a burden. It
is the sing(e most demanding idea in the history of
man%ind. Not because it is difficu(t to conceive: to the
contrary, it is the essence of sim'(icity. 9ut because if
we be(ieve it, it then demands from us a(( that we can
'ossib(y give, a(( that we have. It is one thing to be(ieve
in a nice o(d =od who wi(( ta%e good care of us from a
(ofty 'osition of 'ower which we ourse(ves cou(d never
begin to attain. It is >uite another to be(ieve in a =od
who has it in mind for us 'recise(y that we shou(d attain
His 'osition, His 'ower, His wisdom, His identity. <ere
we to be(ieve it 'ossib(e for man to become =od, this
be(ief by its very nature wou(d '(ace u'on us an ob(iga.
tion to attem't to attain the 'ossib(e. 9ut we do not
want this ob(igation. <e don"t want to have to wor% that
hard. <e don"t want =od"s res'onsibi(ity. <e don"t want
the res'onsibi(ity of having to thin% a(( the time. )s (ong
;?: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
as we can be(ieve that godhood is an im'ossib(e
attainment for ourse(ves, we don"t have to worry about
our s'iritua( growth, we don"t have to 'ush ourse(ves to
higher and higher (eve(s of consciousness and (oving
activity: we can re(a/ and 8ust be human. If =od"s in his
heaven and we"re down here, and never the twain sha((
meet, we can (et Him have a(( the res'onsibi(ity for
evo(ution and the directorshi' of the universe. <e can do
our bit toward assuring ourse(ves a comfortab(e o(d age,
ho'efu((y com'(ete with hea(thy, ha''y and gratefu(
chi(dren and grandchi(dren: but beyond that we need
not bother ourse(ves. These goa(s are difficu(t enough to
achieve, and hard(y to be dis'araged. Nonethe(ess, as
soon as we be(ieve it is 'ossib(e for man to
Entro.y and 4riginal +in @,*
become =od, we can rea((y never rest for (ong, never
say, OE, my 8ob is finished, my wor% is done. <e must
constant(y 'ush ourse(ves to greater and greater
wisdom, greater and greater effectiveness. 9y this
be(ief we wi(( have tra''ed ourse(ves, at (east unti(
death, on an effortfu( treadmi(( of se(f.im'rovement and
s'iritua( growth. =od"s res'onsibi(ity must be our own.
It is no wonder that the be(ief in the 'ossibi(ity of
=odhead is re'ugnant.
The idea that =od is active(y nurturing us so that we
might grow u' to be (i%e Him brings us face to face with
our own (aFiness.
Entro.y and 4riginal +in
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 2::
9eing about s'iritua( growth, this boo% is inevitab(y
about the other side of the same coin0 the im'ediments
to s'iritua( growth. U(timate(y there is on(y the one
im'ediment, and that is (aFiness. If we overcome
(aFiness, a(( the other im'ediments wi(( be overcome. If
we do not overcome (aFiness, none of the others wi(( be
hurd(ed. #o this is a(so a boo% about (aFiness. In
e/amining disci'(ine we were considering the (aFiness
of attem'ting to avoid necessary suffering, or ta%ing
the easy way out. In e/amining (ove we were a(so
e/amining the fact that non(ove is the unwi((ingness to
e/tend one
"
s se(f. ?aFiness is (ove
"
s o''osite. #'iritua(
growth is effortfu(, as we have been reminded again and
again. <e are now at a 'osition from which we can
e/amine the nature of (aFiness in 'ers'ective and
rea(iFe that (aFiness is the force of entro'y as it man.
ifests itse(f in the (ives of a(( of us.
;or many years I found the notion of origina( sin
meaning.(ess, even ob8ectionab(e. #e/ua(ity did not
stri%e me as 'artic.
@,@ =R)C6
u(ar(y sinfu(. Nor my various other a''etites. I wou(d
>uite fre>uent(y indu(ge myse(f by overeating an
e/ce((ent mea(, and whi(e I might suffer 'angs of
indigestion, I certain(y did not suffer any 'angs of gui(t.
I 'erceived sin in the wor(d0 cheating, 're8udice,
torture, bruta(ity. 9ut I fai(ed to 'erceive any inherent
sinfu(ness in infants, nor cou(d I find it rationa( to
be(ieve that young chi(dren were cursed because their
ancestors had eaten from the fruit of the tree of the
%now(edge of good and evi(. =radua((y, however, I
became increasing(y aware of the ubi>uitous nature of
(aFiness. In the strugg(e to he(' my 'atients grow, I
found that my chief enemy was invariab(y their
(aFiness. )nd I became aware in myse(f of a simi(ar
re(uctance to e/tend myse(f to new areas of thought,
;?B =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
res'onsibi(ity and maturation. One thing I c(ear(y had in
common with a(( man%ind was my (aFiness. It was at
this 'oint that the ser'ent.and.the.a''(e story
sudden(y made sense.
The %ey issue (ies in what is missing. The story
suggests that =od was in the habit of wa(%ing in the
garden in the coo( of the day and that there were
o'en channe(s of communication between Him and
man. 9ut if this was so, then why was it that )dam and
6ve, se'arate(y or together, before or after the
ser'ent"s urging, did not say to =od, <e"re curious as
to why 7ou don"t want us to eat any of the fruit of the
tree of the %now(edge of good and evi(. <e rea((y (i%e
it here, and we don"t want to seem ungratefu(, but
7our (aw on this matter doesn"t ma%e much sense to
us, and we"d rea((y a''reciate it if you e/'(ained it to
us& 9ut of course they did not say this. Instead they
went ahead and bro%e =od"s (aw without ever
understanding the reason behind the (aw, with.out
ta%ing the effort to cha((enge =od direct(y, >uestion
his authority or even communicate with Him on a
reasonab(y adu(t (eve(. They (istened to the ser'ent,
but they fai(ed to get =od"s side of the story before
they acted.
<hy this fai(ure& <hy was no ste' ta%en between
the tem'tation and the action& It is this missing ste'
that is the essence of sin. The ste' missing is the ste'
of debate. )dam and 6ve cou(d have set u' a debate
between the ser'ent and
Entro.y and 4ri gi nal +i n 27#
=od, but in fai(ing to do so they fai(ed to obtain =od"s
side of the >uestion. The debate between the ser'ent
and =od is symbo(ic of the dia(ogue between good and
evi( which can and shou(d occur within the minds of
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 26;
human beings. Our fai(ure to conduct . or to conduct
fu((y and who(ehearted(y.this interna( debate between
good and evi( is the cause of those evi( actions that
constitute sin, In debating the wisdom of a 'ro'osed
course of action, human beings routine(y fai( to obtain
=od"s side of the issue. They fai( to consu(t or (isten to
the =od within them, the %now(edge of rightness which
inherent(y resides within the minds of a(( man%ind. <e
ma%e this fai(ure because we are (aFy. It is wor% to ho(d
these interna( debates. They re>uire time and energy
8ust to conduct them. )nd if we ta%e them serious(y.if
we serious(y (isten to this =od within us . we usua((y
find ourse(ves being urged to ta%e the more difficu(t
'ath, the 'ath of more effort rather than (ess. To
conduct the debate is to o'en ourse(ves to suffering
and strugg(e. 6ach and every one of us, more or (ess
fre>uent(y, wi(( ho(d bac% from this wor%, wi(( a(so see%
to avoid this 'ainfu( ste'. ?i%e )dam and 6ve, and every
one of our ancestors before us, we are a(( (aFy.
#o origina( sin does e/ist: it is our (aFiness. It is very
rea(. It e/ists in each and every one of us.infants,
chi(dren, ado(escents, mature adu(ts, the e(der(y: the
wise or the stu'id: the (ame or the who(e. #ome of us
may be (ess (aFy than others, but we are a(( (aFy to
some e/tent. No matter how energetic, ambitious or
even wise we may be, if we tru(y (oo% into ourse(ves we
wi(( find (aFiness (ur%ing at some (eve(. It is the force of
entro'y within us, 'ushing us down and ho(ding us a((
bac% from our s'iritua( evo(ution.
#ome readers may say to themse(ves, 9ut I"m not
(aFy. I wor% si/ty hours a wee% at my 8ob. In the
evenings and on the wee%ends, even though I"m tired, I
e/tend myse(f to go out with my s'ouse, ta%e the
chi(dren to the Foo, he(' with the housewor%, do any
number of chores. #ometimes it seems that"s a(( I do.
;B9 =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
wor %, wor%, wor%. I can sym'athiFe with these
readers but can 'ersist on(y in 'ointing out that they
@,B =R)C6
wi(( find (aFiness within themse(ves if they (oo% for it.
;or (aFiness ta%es forms other than that re(ated to the
bare number of hours s'ent on the 8ob or devoted to
one
"
s res'onsibi(ities to others. ) ma8or form that
(aFiness ta%es is fear. The myth of )dam and 6ve can
again be used to i((ustrate this. One might say, for
instance, that it was not (aFiness that 'revented )dam
and 6ve from >uestioning =od as to the reasons behind
His (aw but f ear. f ear in the face of the awesomeness
of =od, fear of the wrath of =od. 9ut whi(e a(( fear is
not (aFiness, much fear is e/act(y that. !uch of our fear
is fear of a change in the status >uo, a fear that we
might (ose what we have if we venture forth from
where we are now. In the section on disci'(ine I s'o%e
of the fact that 'eo'(e find new information distinct(y
threatening, because if they incor'orate it they wi((
have to do a good dea( of wor% to revise their ma's of
rea(ity, and they instinctive(y see% to avoid that wor%.
Conse>uent(y, more often than not they wi(( fight
against the new information rather than for its
assimi(ation. Their resistance is moti vated by fear, yes,
but the basis of their fear is (aFiness: it is the fear of
the wor% they wou(d have to do. #imi(ar(y, in the
section on (ove I s'o%e of the ris%s of e/tending
ourse(ves into new territory, new commitments and
res'onsibi(ities, new re(ationshi's and (eve(s of
e/istence. Here again the ris% is of the (oss of the
status >uo, and the fear is of the wor% invo(ved in
arriving at a new status >uo. #o it is >uite 'robab(e
that )dam and 6ve were afraid of what might ha''en
to them if they were to o'en(y >uestion =od: instead
they attem'ted to ta%e the easy way out, the
i((egitimate shortcut of snea%iness, to achieve
%now(edge not wor%ed for, and ho'e they cou(d get
away with it. 9ut they did not. To >uestion =od may (et
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 262
us in for a (ot of wor%. 9ut a mora( of the story is that it
must be done.
$sychothera'ists %now that a(though 'atients come
to us see%ing change of one %ind or another, they are
actua((y terrified of change.of the wor% of change. It is
because of this terror or (aFiness that the vast ma8ority
of 'atients.'erha's nine out of t en. who begin the
'rocess of 'sychothera'y,
Entro.y and 4riginal +in @,2
dro' out of thera'y (ong before the 'rocess has been
com'(eted. The ma8ority of these dro'.outs 4or co'.outs5
occur during the first few sessions or first few months of
treatment. The dynamics are often c(earest in the cases
of those married 'atients who become aware during the
first few sessions of thera'y that their marriages are
dreadfu((y disordered or destructive, and hence that the
'ath to menta( hea(th wi(( (ie either through divorce or
e(se through an enormous(y difficu(t and 'ainfu( 'rocess
of com'(ete(y restructuring a marriage. )ctua((y, these
'atients often have this awareness sub(imi na((y before
they even see% 'sychothera'y, and the first few
sessions of thera'y on(y serve to confirm what they
a(ready %new and dreaded. In any case, they become
overwhe(med by fear of facing the seeming(y im'ossib(e
difficu(ties of (iving a(one or a''arent(y e>ua((y
im'ossib(e difficu(ties of wor%ing for months and years
with their mates toward radica((y im'roved
re(ationshi's. #o they sto' treatment, sometimes after
two or three sessions, sometimes after ten or twenty.
They may sto' with some such e/cuse as <e"ve
decided we made a mista%e when we thought we had
the money for treatment or they may sto' honest(y
with an o'en ac%now(edgment0 I"m afraid of what
thera'y might do to my marriage. I %now it
"
s a co'.out.
!aybe someday I"(( have the guts to come bac%.

)t any
;B@ =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
rate, they sett(e for the maintenance of a miserab(e
status >uo in 'reference to the tremendous amount of
effort they rea(iFe wi(( be re>uired to wor% their way out
of their 'articu(ar tra's.
In the ear(ier stages of s'iritua( growth, individua(s are
most(y unaware of their own (aFiness, a(though they may
give it (i' service by saying such things as Of course,
(i%e every.body e(se, I have my (aFy moments. This is
because the (aFy 'art of the se(f, (i%e the devi( that it
may actua((y be, is unscru'u(ous and s'ecia(iFes in
treacherous disguise. It c(oa%s its own (aFiness in a((
manner of rationa(iFations, which the more growing 'art
of the se(f is sti(( too wea% to see through easi(y or to
combat. Thus a 'erson wi(( say to the suggestion that he
or she gain some new %now(edge in a certain area,
@,C =R)C6
That area"s been studied by a (ot of 'eo'(e and they"ve
not come u's, with any answers or I %now a man who
was into that stuff and he was an a(coho(ic who
committed suicide or I"m too o(d a dog to (earn new
tric%s or 7ou"re trying to mani'u(ate me into
becoming a carbon co'y of yourse(f and that"s not what
'sychothera'ists are su''osed to do. )(( of these
res'onses and many more are cover.u's of 'atients" or
students
"
(aFiness, designed to disguise it not so much
from the thera'ist or teacher as from themse(ves. ;or
to recogniFe (aFiness for what it is and ac%now(edge it
in onese(f is the beginning of its curtai(ment.
;or these reasons, those who are in the re(ative(y
more advanced stages of s'iritua( growth are the very
ones most aware of their own (aFiness. It is the (east
(aFy who %now themse(ves to be s(uggish. In my
'ersona( strugg(e for maturity I am gradua((y becoming
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 260
more aware of new insights, which tend, as if of
themse(ves, to want to s(i' away from me. Or I g(im'se
new, constructive avenues of thought on which my
ste's, seeming(y of their own accord, start to drag. I
sus'ect that most of the time these va(uab(e thoughts
do s(i' away unnoticed and that I wander from these
va(uab(e avenues without %nowing what I"m doing. 9ut
when I do become conscious of the fact that I am
dragging my feet, I am com'e((ed to e/ert the wi(( to
>uic%en my 'ace in the very direction I am avoiding.
The fight against entro'y never ends.
<e a(( have a sic% se(f and a hea(thy se(f. No matter
how neurotic or even 'sychotic we may be, even if we
seem to be tota((y fearfu( and com'(ete(y rigid, there is
sti(( a 'art of us, however sma((, that wants us to grow,
that (i%es change and deve(o'ment, that is attracted to
the new and the un%nown, and that is wi((ing to do the
wor% and ta%e the ris%s invo(ved in s'iritua( evo(ution.
)nd no matter how seeming(y hea(thy and s'iritua((y
evo(ved we are, there is sti(( a 'art of us, how. ever
sma((, that does not want us to e/ert ourse(ves, that
c(ings to the o(d and fami(iar, fearfu( of any change or
effort, desiring comfort at any cost and absence of 'ain
at any 'rice, even if the 'ena(ty he ineffectiveness,
stagnation or regression. In
The Pro$l e% o" Evi l 277
some of us our hea(thy se(f seems 'athetica((y sma((,
who((y dominatedby8the (aFiness and fearfu(ness of our
monumenta( sic% se(f. Others of us may be ra'id(y growing,
our dominant hea(thy se(f reaching eager(y u'ward in the
strugg(e to evo(ve toward godhood: the hea(thy se(f,
however, must a(ways be vigi(ant against the (aFiness of the
sic% se(f that sti(( (ur%s within us. In this one res'ect we
human beings are a(( e>ua(. <ithin each and every one of us
there are two se(ves, one sic% and one hea(thy.the (ife urge
and the death urge, if you wi((. 6ach of us re'resents the
;BA =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
who(e human race: within each of us is the instinct for
godhood and the ho'e for man%ind, and within each of us is
the origina( sin of (aFiness, the ever.'resent force of entro'y
'ushing us bac% to chi(dhood, to the womb and to the
swam's from which we have evo(ved.
The Pro$l e% o" Evi l
Having suggested that (aFiness is origina( sin and that
(aFiness in the form of our sic% se(f might even be the devi(,
it is re(evant to round out the 'icture by ma%ing some
remar%s about the nature of evi(. The 'rob(em of evi( is
'erha's the greatest of a(( theo(ogica( 'rob(ems. 7et, as
with so many other re(igious issues, the science of
'sycho(ogy has acted, with a few minor e/ce'tions, as if evi(
did not e/ist. $otentia((y, however, 'sycho(ogy has much to
contribute to the sub8ect. I ho'e that I wi(( be ab(e to ma%e
'art of such a contribution in a (ater wor% of some (ength.
;or the moment, since it is on(y 'eri'hera( to the theme of
this boo%, I wi(( (imit myse(f to brief(y stating four
conc(usions I have reached concerning the nature of evi(.
;irst, I have come to conc(ude that evi( is rea(. It is not the
@,- =R)C6
figment of the imagination of a 'rimitive re(igious mind
feeb(y attem'ting to e/'(ain the un%nown. There rea((y
are 'eo'(e, and institutions made u' of 'eo'(e, who
res'ond with hatred in the 'resence of goodness and
wou(d destroy the good insofar as it is in their 'ower to do
so. They do this not with conscious ma(ice but b(ind(y,
(ac%ing awareness of their own evi(.indeed, see%ing to
avoid any such awareness. )s has been described of the
+cienti"ic Tunnel @ision 267
devi( in re(igious (iterature, they hate the (ight and
instinctive(y wi(( do anything to avoid it, inc(uding
attem'ting to e/tinguish it. They wi(( destroy the (ight in
their own chi(dren and in a(( other beings sub8ect to their
'ower.
6vi( 'eo'(e hate the (ight because it revea(s themse(ves
to themse(ves. They hate goodness because it revea(s
their badness: they hate (ove because it revea(s their
(aFiness. They wi(( destroy the (ight, the goodness, the
(ove in order to avoid the 'ain of such se(f.awareness. !y
second conc(usion, then, is that evi( is (aFiness carried to
its u(timate, e/traordinary e/treme. )s I have defined it,
(ove is the antithesis of (aFiness. Ordinary (aFiness is a
'assive fai(ure to (ove. #ome ordinari(y (aFy 'eo'(e may
not (ift a finger to e/tend themse(ves un(ess they are
com'e((ed to do so. Their being is a manifestation of no
(ove: sti((, they are not evi(. Tru(y evi( 'eo'(e, on the other
hand, active(y rather than 'assive(y avoid e/tending
them.se(ves. They wi(( ta%e any action in their 'ower to
'rotect their own (aFiness, to 'reserve the integrity of
their sic% se(f. Rather than nurturing others, they wi((
actua((y destroy others in this cause. If necessary, they wi((
even %i(( to esca'e the 'ain of their own s'iritua( growth.
)s the integrity of their sic% se(f is threatened by the
s'iritua( hea(th of those around them, they wi(( see% by a((
manner of means to crush and demo(ish the s'iritua(
hea(th that may e/ist near them. I de.fine evi(, then, as
the e/ercise of 'o(itica( 'ower.that is, the im'osition of
one"s wi(( u'on others by overt or covert coercion.in order
to avoid e/tending one
"
s se(f for the 'ur'ose of nurturing
s'iritua( growth. Ordinary (aFiness is no (ove: evi( is
anti(ove.
;B: =RO<TH )ND R6?I=ION
The Pro$le% o" Evil 276
!y third conc(usion is that the e/istence of evi( is
inevitab(e, at (east at this stage in human evo(ution.
=iven the force of entro'y and the fact that humans
'ossess free wi((, it is inevitab(e that (aFiness wi(( be we((
contained in some and com'(ete(y uncontained in others.
)s entro'y, on the one hand, and the evo(utionary f(ow of
(ove, on the other, are o''osing forces, it is on(y natura(
that these forces wi(( be re(ative(y in ba(ance in most
'eo'(e, whi(e a few at one e/treme wi(( manifest a(most
'ure (ove, and a few at the other e/treme 'ure entro'y
or evi(. #ince they are conf(icting forces, it is a(so
inevitab(e that those at the e/tremes wi(( be (oc%ed in
combat: it is as natura( for evi( to hate goodness as it is
for goodness to hate evi(.
?ast, I have come to conc(ude that whi(e entro'y is an
enormous force, in its most e/treme form of human evi(
it is strange(y ineffective as a socia( force. I myse(f have
witnessed evi( in action, vicious(y attac%ing and
effective(y destroying the s'irits and minds of doFens of
chi(dren. 9ut evi( bac%fires in the big 'icture of human
evo(ution. ;or every sou( it dest r oys. and there are
many. i t is instrumenta( in the sa(vation of others.
Unwitting(y, evi( serves as a beacon to warn others away
from its own shoa(s. 9ecause most of us have been
graced by an a(most instinctive sense of horror at the
outrageousness of evi(, when we recogniFe its 'resence,
our own 'ersona(ities are honed by the awareness of its
e/istence. Our consciousness of it is a signa( to 'urify
ourse(ves. It was evi(, for instance, that raised Christ to
the cross, thereby enab(ing us to see him from afar. Our
'ersona( invo(vement in the fight against evi( in the
wor(d is one of the ways we grow.
The Evol uti on o" !onsci ousness
The words aware and awareness

have re'eated(y
cro''ed u' throughout. 6vi( 'eo'(e resist the awareness of
their own condition. ) mar% of the s'iritua((y advanced is their
awareness of their own (aFiness. $eo'(e often are not aware of
their own re(igion or wor(d view, and in the course of their
re(igious growth it is necessary for them to become aware of
their own assum'tions and tendencies toward bias. Through
brac%eting and the attention of (ove we grow more aware of
our be(oved and of the wor(d. )n essentia( 'art of disci'(ine is
the deve(o'ment of an awareness of our res'onsibi(ity and
'ower of choice. The ca'acity of awareness we assign to that
'ortion of the mind we ca(( conscious or consciousness. <e are
now at the 'oint where we can define s'iritua( growth as the
growth or evo(ution of consciousness.
The word conscious

is derived from the ?atin 'refi/ con,

meaning with, and the word scire, meaning to %now. To
be conscious means to %now with. 9ut how are we to un.
derstand this with& To %now with hat< <e have s'o%en of
the fact that the unconscious 'art of our mind is the 'os.
sessor of e/traordinary %now(edge. It %nows more than we
%now, we being defined as our conscious se(f. )nd when we
become aware of a new truth, it is because we recogniFe it to
be true: we re.%now that which we %new a(( a(ong. There.fore,
might we not conc(ude that to become conscious is to %now
ith our unconscious& The deve(o'ment of consciousness is
the deve(o'ment of awareness in our conscious mind of
%now(edge along ith our unconscious mind, which a(ready
'ossesses that %now(edge. It is a 'rocess of the conscious
mind
The Evolution o" !onsciousness @-*
coming into synchrony with the unconscious. This
shou(d be no strange conce't to 'sychothera'ists, who
fre>uent(y define their thera'y as a 'rocess of ma%ing
the unconscious conscious or en(arging the rea(m of
consciousness in re(ation to the rea(m of
unconsciousness.
9ut we sti(( have not e/'(ained how it is that the
unconscious 'ossesses a(( this %now(edge which we
have not yet conscious(y (earned. Here again the
>uestion is so basic that we have no scientific answer.
)gain we can on(y hy'othesiFe. )nd again I %now of no
hy'othesis as satisfactory as the 'ostu(ation of a =od
who is intimate(y associated with us..so intimate(y that
He is 'art of us. If you want to %now the c(osest '(ace to
(oo% for grace, it is within yourse(f. If you desire wisdom
greater than your own, you can find it inside you. <hat
this suggests is that the interface between =od and
man is at (east in 'art the interface between our
unconscious and our conscious. To 'ut it '(ain(y, our
unconscious is =od. =od within us. <e were 'art of =od
a(( the time. =od has been with us a(( a(ong, is now, and
a(ways wi(( be.
How can this be& If the reader is horrified by the
notion that our unconscious is =od, he or she shou(d
reca(( that it is hard(y a heretica( conce't, being in
essence the same as the Christian conce't of the Ho(y
=host or Ho(y #'irit which resides in us a((. I find it most
he('fu( to understand this re(ationshi' between =od and
ourse(ves by thin%ing of our unconscious as a rhiFome,
or incredib(y (arge and rich hidden root system, which
nourishes the tiny '(ant of consciousness s'routing
visib(y from it. I am indebted for this ana(ogy to Gung,
who, describing himse(f as a s'(inter of the infinite
deity, went on to say0
?ife has a(ways seemed to me (i%e a '(ant that (ives
on its rhiFome. Its true (ife is invisib(e, hidden in
the rhiFome. The 'art that a''ears above ground
(asts on(y a sing(e summer. Then it withers away.an
e'hemera( a''arition. <hen we thin% of the
unending growth and decay of (ife and civi(iFation,
we cannot esca'e the im'ression of abso.
@-@ =R)C6
(ute nu((ity. 7et I have never (ost a sense of
something that (ives and endures underneath the
eterna( f(u/. <hat we see is the b(ossom, which
'asses. The rhiFome remains.H
Gung never went >uite so far as to actua((y state that
=od e/isted in the unconscious, a(though his writings
c(ear(y 'ointed in that direction. <hat he did do was to
divide the unconscious into the more su'erficia(,
individua( 'ersona( unconscious and the dee'er
co((ective unconscious that is common to man%ind. In
my vision the co((ective unconscious is =od: the
conscious is man as individua(: and the 'ersona(
unconscious is the interface between them. 9eing this
inter.face, it is inevitab(e that the 'ersona( unconscious
shou(d be a '(ace of some turmoi(, the scene of some
strugg(e between =od"s wi(( and the wi(( of the
individua(. I have 'revious(y described the unconscious
as a benign and (oving rea(m. This I be(ieve it to be. 9ut
dreams, though they contain messages of (oving
wisdom, a(so contain many signs of conf(ict: whi(e they
may be '(easant(y se(f.renewing, they may a(so be tu.
mu(tuous, frightening nightmares. 9ecause of this
tumu(tuousness, menta( i((ness has been (oca(iFed in the
unconscious by most thin%ers, as if the unconscious
were the seat of 'sycho'atho(ogy and sym'toms were
(i%e subterranean demons that surface to bedevi( the
individua(. )s I have a(ready said, my own view is the
o''osite. I be(ieve that the conscious is the seat of
'sycho'atho(ogy and that menta( disorders are
disorders of consciousness. It is because our conscious
se(f resists our unconscious wisdom that we become i((.
It is 'recise(y because our consciousness is disordered
that conf(ict occurs between it and the unconscious
which see%s to hea( it. In other words, menta( i((ness
occurs when the conscious wi(( of the individua(
deviates substantia((y from the wi(( of =od, which is the
individua("s own unconscious wi((.
I have said that the u(timate goa( of s'iritua( growth
is for
The Evol uti on o" !onsciousness 2:#
the individua( to become as one with =od. It is to %now with
=od. #ince the unconscious is =od a(( a(ong, we may further
define the goa( of s'iritua( growth to be the attainment of
godhood by the conscious se(f. It is for the individua( to be.
come tota((y, who((y =od. Does this mean that the goa( is for
the conscious to merge with the unconscious, so that a(( is
unconsciousness& Hard(y. <e now come to the 'oint of it a((.
The 'oint is to become =od whi(e 'reserving consciousness. If
the bud of consciousness that grows from the rhiFome of the
unconscious =od can become itse(f =od, then =od wi(( have
assumed a new (ife form. This is the meaning of our individua(
e/istence. <e are born that we might become, as a conscious
individua(, a new (ife form of =od.
The conscious is the e/ecutive 'art of our tota( being. It is
the conscious that ma%es decisions and trans(ates them into
action. <ere we to become a(( unconscious, we wou(d be
indeed (i%e the newborn infant, one with =od but inca'ab(e of
any action that might ma%e the 'resence of =od fe(t in the
wor(d. )s I have mentioned, there is a regressive >ua(ity to
the mystica( thought of some Hindu or 9uddhist theo(ogy, in
which the status of the infant without ego boundaries is com.
'ared to Nirvana and the goa( of entering Nirvana seems
simi(ar to the goa( of returning to the womb. The goa( of
theo(ogy 'resented here, and that of most mystics, is e/act(y
the o''osite. It is not to become an ego(ess, unconscious babe.
Rather it is to deve(o' a mature, conscious ego which then
can become the ego of =od. If as adu(ts, wa(%ing around on
two (egs, ca'ab(e of ma%ing inde'endent choices that inf(u.
ence the wor(d, we can identify our mature free wi(( with that
of =od, then =od wi(( have assumed through our conscious
ego a new and 'otent (ife form. <e wi(( have become =od"s
agent, his arm, so to s'ea%, and therefore 'art of Him. )nd
insofar as we might then through our conscious decisions be
ab(e to inf(uence the wor(d according to His wi(( our Iives
themse(ves wi(( become the agents of =od"s grace. <e our.
se(ves wi(( then have become one form of the grace of =od,
wor%ing on His beha(f among man%ind, creating (ove where
@-B =R)C6
(ove did not e/ist before, 'u((ing our fe((ow creatures u'
to our own (eve( of awareness, 'ushing the '(ane of
human evo(ution forward.
The /ature o" Poer
<e have now come to the 'oint where we can
understand the nature of 'ower. It is a much
misunderstood sub8ect. One reason for the
misunderstanding is that there are two %inds of 'ower.
'o(itica( and s'iritua(. Re(igious mytho(ogy ta%es 'ains
to draw the distinction between the two. $rior to the
birth of 9uddha, for instance, the soothsayers informed
his father that 9uddha wou(d grow u' to become the
most 'owerfu( %ing in the (and or e(se a 'oor man who
wou(d be the greatest s'iritua( (eader the wor(d had
ever %nown. 6ither or, but not both. )nd Christ was
offered by #atan a(( the %ingdoms of the wor(d and the
g(ory of them. 9ut he re8ected this a(ternative in favor
of dying, seeming(y im'otent, u'on the cross.
$o(itica( 'ower is the ca'acity to coerce others,
overt(y or covert(y, to do one"s wi((. This ca'acity
resides in a 'osition, such as a %ingshi' or 'residency,
or e(se in money. It does not reside in the 'erson who
occu'ies the 'osition or 'ossesses the money.
Conse>uent(y 'o(itica( 'ower is unre(ated to goodness
or wisdom. Dery stu'id and very evi( 'eo'(e have
wa(%ed as %ings u'on the earth. #'iritua( 'ower,
however, resides entire(y within the individua( and has
nothing to do with the ca'acity to coerce others. $eo'(e
of great s'iritua( 'ower may be wea(thy and may u'on
occasion occu'y 'o(itica( 'ositions of (eadershi', but
they are as (i%e(y to be 'oor and (ac%ing in 'o(itica(
authority. Then, what is the ca'acity
The /ature o" Poer 2:5
of s'iritua( 'ower if not the ca'acity to coerce& It is the
ca'acity to ma%e decisions with ma/imum awareness.
It is consciousness.
!ost 'eo'(e most of the time ma%e decisions with
(itt(e awareness of what they are doing. They ta%e action
with (itt(e understanding of their own motives and
without beginning to %now the ramifications of their
choices. Do we rea((y %now what we are doing when we
acce't or re8ect a 'otentia( c(ient& <hen we hit a chi(d,
'romote a subordinate, f(irt with an ac>uaintance&
)nyone who has wor%ed for (ong in the 'o(iti ca( arena
%nows that actions ta%en with the best intentions wi((
often bac%fire and 'rove harmfu( in the end: or that
'eo'(e with scurri(ous motives may 'romote a
seeming(y wic%ed cause that u(timate(y turns out to be
constructive. #o a(so in the area of chi(d.raising. Is it
any better to do the right thing for the wrong reasons
than the wrong thing for the right reasons& <e are
often most in the dar% when we are the most certain,
and the most en(ightened when we are the most con.
fused.
<hat are we to do, adrift in a sea of ignorance& #ome
are nihi(istic and say, Nothing. They 'ro'ose on(y that
we shou(d continue to drift, as if no course cou(d
'ossib(y be charted in such a vast sea which wou(d
bring us to any true c(arity or meaningfu( destination.
9ut others, sufficient(y aware to %now that they are
(ost, dare to ho'e that they can wor% themse(ves out of
ignorance through deve(o'ing even greater awareness.
They are correct. It is 'ossib(e. 9ut such greater
awareness does not come to them in a sing(e b(inding
f(ash of en(ightenment. It comes s(ow(y, 'iece by 'iece,
and each 'iece must be wor%ed for by the 'atient effort
of study and observation of everything, inc(uding
themse(ves. They are humb(e students. The 'ath of
s'iritua( growth is a 'ath of (ife(ong (earning.
If this 'ath is fo((owed (ong and earnest(y enough, the
'ieces of %now(edge begin to fa(( into '(ace. =radua((y
things begin to ma%e sense. There are b(ind a((eys,
disa''ointments, conce'ts arrived at on(y to be
discarded. 9ut gradua((y it is
@-C =R)C6
'ossib(e for us to come to a dee'er and dee'er
understanding of what our e/istence is a(( about. )nd
gradua((y we can come to the '(ace where we actua((y
%now what we are doing. <e can come to 'ower.
The e/'erience of s'iritua( 'ower is basica((y a 8oyfu(
one. There is a 8oy that comes with mastery. Indeed,
there is no greater satisfaction than that of being an
e/'ert, of rea((y %nowing what we are doing. Those who
have grown the most s'iritua((y are those who are the
e/'erts in (iving. )nd there is yet another 8oy, even
greater. It is the 8oy of communion with =od. ;or when
we tru(y %now what we are doing, we are 'artici'ating in
the omniscience of =od. <ith tota( awareness of the
nature of a situation, of our motives for acting u'on it,
and of the resu(ts and ramifications of our action, we
have attained that (eve( of awareness that we norma((y
e/'ect on(y of =od. Our conscious se(f has succeeded in
coming into a(ignment with the mind of =od. <e %now
with =od.
7et those who have attained this stage of s'iritua(
growth, this state of great awareness, are invariab(y
'ossessed by a 8oyfu( humi(ity. ;or one of their very
awarenesses is the awareness that their unusua( wisdom
has its origin in their unconscious. They are aware of
their connection to the rhi Fome and aware that their
%now(edge f(ows to them from the rhiFome through the
connection. Their efforts at (earning are on(y efforts to
o'en the connection, and they are aware that the
rhiFome, their unconscious, is not theirs a(one but a((
man%ind"s, a(( (ife"s, =od"s. Invariab(y when as%ed the
source of their %now(edge and 'ower, the tru(y 'owerfu(
wi(( re'(y0 It is not my 'ower. <hat (itt(e 'ower I have is
but a minute e/'ression of a far greater 'ower. I am
mere(y a conduit. It is not my 'ower at a((. I have said
that this humi(ity is 8oyfu(. That is because, with their
awareness of their connectedness to =od, the tru(y
'owerfu( e/'erience a diminution in their sense of se(f.
?et thy wi((, not mine, be done. !a%e me your
instrument, is their on(y desire. #uch a (oss of se(f
brings with it a(ways a %ind of ca(m ecstasy, not un(i%e
the e/'eri.
The /ature o" Poer 2:7
ence of being in (ove. )ware of their intimate
connectedness to =od, they e/'erience a surcease of
(one(iness. There is communion.
Goyfu( though it is, the e/'erience of s'iritua( 'ower is
a(so terrifying. ;or the greater one
"
s awareness, the
more difficu(t it is to ta%e action. I mentioned this fact at
the conc(usion of the first section when I gave the
ana(ogy of two genera(s, each having to ma%e the
decision of whether or not to commit a division to batt(e.
The one who regards his division sim'(y and so(e(y as a
unit of strategy may s(ee' easi(y after having made his
decision. 9ut for the other, with his awareness of each of
the (ives of the men under his command, the decision
wi(( be agoniFing. <e are a(( genera(s. <hatever action
we ta%e may inf(uence the course of civi(iFation. The
decision whether to 'raise or 'unish a sing(e chi(d may
have vast con.se>uences. It is easy to act with the
awareness of (imited data and (et the chi's fa(( as they
may. The greater our awareness, however, the more and
more data we must assimi(ate and integrate into our
decision.ma%ing. The more we %now, the more com'(e/
decisions become. 7et the more and more we %now, the
more it begins to become 'ossib(e to 'redict 8ust where
the chi's wi(( fa((. If we assume the res'onsibi(ity of
attem'ting to 'redict accurate(y 8ust where each chi'
wi(( fa((, we are (i%e(y to fee( so overwhe(med by the
com'(e/ity of the tas% as to sin% into inaction. 9ut, then,
inaction is itse(f a form of action, and whi(e doing
nothing might be the best course of action under certain
circumstances, in others it may be disastrous and
destructive. #o s'iritua( 'ower is not sim'(y awareness:
it is the ca'acity to maintain one"s abi(ity to sti(( ma%e
decisions with greater and greater awareness. )nd god.
(i%e 'ower is the 'ower to ma%e decisions with tota(
awareness. 9ut un(i%e the 'o'u(ar notion of it,
omniscience does not ma%e decision.ma%ing easier:
rather, it becomes ever more difficu(t. The c(oser one
comes to godhood, the more one fee(s sym'athy for =od.
To 'artici'ate in =od"s omniscience is a(so to share His
agony.
@-- =R)C6
There is another 'rob(em with 'ower0 a(oneness.H
Here there is a simi(arity, in at (east one dimension,
between s'iritua( and 'o(itica( 'ower. #omeone who is
a''roaching the 'ea% of s'iritua( evo(ution is (i%e
someone at the 'ea% of 'o(itica( 'ower. There is no one
above to whom to 'ass the buc%: no one to b(ame: no
one to te(( you how to do it. There may not even be
anyone on the same (eve( to share the agony or the
res'onsibi(ity. Others may advise, but the decision is
yours a(one. 7ou a(one are res'onsib(e. In another
dimension, the a(oneness of enormous s'iritua( 'ower is
even greater than that of 'o(itica( 'ower. #ince their
(eve( of awareness is se(dom as high as their e/a(ted
'ositions, the 'o(itica((y 'owerfu( a(most a(ways have
their s'iritua( e>ua(s with whom they can communicate.
#o 'residents and %ings wi(( have their friends and
cronies. 9ut the 'erson who has evo(ved to the highest
(eve( of awareness, of s'iritua( 'ower, wi(( (i%e(y have no
one in his or her circ(e of ac>uaintances with whom to
share such de'th of understanding. One of the most
'oignant themes of the =os'e(s is Christ"s continua(
sense of frustration on finding that there was no one
who cou(d rea((y understand him. No matter how hard
he tried, how much he e/tended himse(f, he cou(d not
(ift the minds of even his own disci'(es to his (eve(. The
wisest fo((owed him but cou(d not catch u' with him,
and a(( his (ove cou(d not re(ieve him of the necessity to
(ead by wa(%ing ahead, utter(y a(one. This %ind of
a(oneness is shared by a(( who trave( the farthest on
the 8ourney of s'iritua( growth. It is such a burden that
it sim'(y cou(d not be borne were it not for the fact that
as we outdistance our fe((ow humans our re(ationshi' to
=od inevitab(y becomes corres'onding(y c(oser. In the
communion of growing con.
H I ma%e a distinction between a(oneness and (one(iness.
?one(iness is the unavai(abi(ity of 'eo'(e to communicate
with on any (eve(. $owerfu( 'eo'(e are surrounded by
others on(y too eager to communicate with them: hence
they are se(dom (one(y and may even yearn for (one(iness.
)(oneness, however, is the unavai(abi(ity of someone to
communicate with at your (eve( of awareness.
(race and 5ental Illness3 The 5yth o" 4restes
@-+
sciousness, of %nowing with =od, there is enough 8oy to
sustain us.
(race and 5ental Illness3 The 5yth o" 4restes
) number of seeming(y dis'arate statements have
been made about the nature of menta( hea(th and
i((ness:

Neurosis is a(ways a substitute for (egitimate

suffering: !enta( hea(th is dedication to rea(ity at a((
costs: and !enta( i((ness occurs when the conscious
wi(( of the individua( substantia((y deviates from the wi((
of =od, which is his or her own unconscious wi((. ?et us
now e/amine the issue of menta( i((ness more c(ose(y
and unite these e(ements into a coherent who(e.
<e (ive our (ives in a rea( wor(d. To (ive them we(( it is
necessary that we come to understand the rea(ity of the
wor(d as best we can. 9ut such understanding does not
come easi(y. !any as'ects of the rea(ity of the wor(d
and of our re(ation.shi' to the wor(d are 'ainfu( to us.
<e can understand them on(y through effort and
suffering. )(( of us, to a greater or (esser e/tent,
attem't to avoid this effort and suffering. <e ignore
'ainfu( as'ects of rea(ity by thrusting certain un'(eas.
ant facts out of our awareness. In other words, we
attem't to defend our consciousness, our awareness,
against rea(ity. <e do this by a variety of means which
'sychiatrists ca(( defense mechanisms. )(( of us em'(oy
such defenses, thereby (imiting our awareness. If in our
(aFiness and fear of suffering we massive(y defend our
awareness, then it wi(( come to 'ass that our
understanding of the wor(d wi(( bear (itt(e or no re(ation
to rea(ity. 9ecause our actions are based on our
understanding, our behavior wi(( then become
unrea(istic. <hen this occurs to a sufficient degree our
fe((ow citiFens wi(( recogniFe
@+3 =R)C6
that we are out of touch with rea(ity, and wi(( deem
us menta((y i(( even though we ourse(ves are most
(i%e(y convinced of our sanity.H 9ut (ong before matters
have 'roceeded to this e/treme, and we have been
served notice of our i((ness by our fe((ow citiFens, we
are served notice by our unconscious of our increasing
ma(ad8ustment. #uch notice is served by our
unconscious through a variety of means0 bad dreams,
an/iety attac%s, de'ressions, and other sym'toms.
)(though our conscious mind has denied rea(ity, our
unconscious, which is omniscient, %nows the true score
and attem'ts to he(' us out by stimu(ating, through
sym'tom formation, our conscious mind to the
awareness that something is wrong. In other words, the
'ainfu( and unwanted sym'toms of menta( i((ness are
manifestations of grace. They are the 'roducts of a
'owerfu( force originating outside of consciousness
which nurtures our s'iritua( growth.
I have a(ready 'ointed out in the brief discussion of
de'ression, toward the end of the first section on
disci'(ine, that de'ressive sym'toms are a sign to the
suffering individua( that a(( is not right with him or her
and ma8or ad8ustments need to be made. !any of the
case histories I have used to demonstrate other
'rinci'(es can a(so be used to i((ustrate this one0 that
the un'(easant sym'toms of menta( i((ness serve to
notify 'eo'(e that they have ta%en the wrong 'ath, that
their s'irits are not growing and are in grave 8eo'ardy.
9ut (et me brief(y describe one more case to s'ecifica((y
demonstrate the ro(e of sym'toms.
9etsy was a twenty.two.year.o(d woman, (ove(y and
inte((igent but with a demure a(most virgina( >ua(ity to
her, who
H I recogniFe that this schema of menta( i((ness is
somewhat oversim'(ified. It does not, for instance, ta%e
into account 'hysica( or biochemica( factors which may be
of (arge and even 'redominant significance in certain
cases. I a(so recogniFe that it is 'ossib(e for individua(s to
be so much more in touch with rea(ity than their fe((ow
citiFens that they wi(( be deemed insane by a sic%
society. Nonethe(ess, the schema 'resented here ho(ds
true in the vast ma8ority of instances of menta( i((ness.
(race and 5ental Illness3 The 5yth o" 4restes@+*
came to see me for severe an/iety attac%s. #he was
the on(y chi(d of Catho(ic wor%ing.c(ass 'arents who had
scrim'ed and saved to send her to co((ege. )fter one
year of co((ege, how.ever, des'ite the fact that she had
done we(( academica((y, she decided to dro' out and
marry the boy ne/t door, a mechanic. #he too% a 8ob as
a c(er% in a su'ermar%et. )(( went we(( for two years.
9ut then, sudden(y, came the an/iety attac%s. Out of
the b(ue. They were tota((y un'redictab(e.e/ce't that
when they did occur she was a(ways out of her
a'artment somewhere without her husband. They
might ha''en when she was sho''ing, when she was
at her 8ob in the su'ermar%et, or sim'(y when she was
wa(%ing down the street. The intensity of the 'anic she
fe(t at these times was overwhe(ming. #he wou(d have
to dro' whatever she was doing and wou(d (itera((y run
bac% to her a'artment or e(se to the garage where her
husband wor%ed. On(y when she was with him or at
home wou(d the 'anic subside. 9ecause of the attac%s
she had to >uit her 8ob.
<hen tran>ui(iFers given her by her genera(
'ractitioner fai(ed to sto' or even touch the intensity of
her 'anic attac%s 9etsy came to see me. I don"t %now
what
"
s wrong with me,

she wai(ed. 6verything in my

(ife"s wonderfu(. !y husband is good to me. <e (ove
each other very much. I en8oyed my 8ob. Now
everything"s awfu(. I don"t %now why this has ha'.
'ened to me. I fee( I"m maybe going craFy. $(ease he('
me. $(ease he(' me so that things can be nice (i%e they
used to be. 9ut of course 9etsy discovered in our wor%
together that things were not so nice the way they
used to be. ;irst, s(ow(y and 'ainfu((y, it emerged that
whi(e her husband was good to her, various things
about him irritated her. His manners were uncouth. His
range of interests were narrow. )(( he wanted to do for
entertainment was watch TD. He bored her. Then she
began to recogniFe that wor%ing as a cashier in a
su'ermar%et a(so bored her. #o we began to as% why
she had (eft co((ege for such an unstimu(ating
e/istence. <e((, I got more and more uncomfortab(e
there, she ac%now(edged.
@+@ =R)C6
The %ids were into drugs and se/ a (ot. I didn
"
t fee(
right about it. They >uestioned me, not 8ust the boys
who wanted to have se/ with me, but even my gir(
friends. They thought I was naive. I found I was even
beginning to >uestion myse(f, to >uestion the church
and even some of my 'arents
"
va(ues. I guess I got
scared. In thera'y 9etsy now started to 'roceed with
the 'rocess of >uestioning that she had run away from
by (eaving co((ege. U(timate(y she returned to co((ege.
;ortunate(y, in this instance, her husband 'roved wi((ing
to grow with her and went to co((ege himse(f. Their
horiFons ra'id(y broadened. )nd of course her an/iety
attac%s ceased.
There are severa( ways to (oo% at this rather ty'ica(
case. 9etsy"s an/iety attac%s were c(ear(y a form of
agora'hobia 4(itera((y, fear of the mar%et'(ace, but
usua((y fear of o'en s'aces5, and for her re'resented a
fear of freedom. #he had them when she was outside,
unhindered by her husband, free to move about and
re(ate with others. ;ear of freedom was the essence of
her menta( i((ness. #ome might say that the an/iety
attac%s, re'resenting her fear of freedom, were her
i((ness. 9ut I have found it more usefu( and en(ightening
to (oo% at things another way. ;or 9etsy"s fear of
freedom (ong 'redated her an/iety attac%s. It was
because of this fear that she had (eft co((ege and had
begun the 'rocess of constricting her deve(o'ment. In
my 8udgment 9etsy was i(( at that time, three years
before her sym'toms began. 7et she was not aware of
her i((ness or of the damage she was doing to herse(f by
her se(f.constriction. It was her sym'toms, these
an/iety attac%s which she did not want and had not
as%ed for, which she fe(t had cursed her out of the
b(ue, that made her fina((y aware of her i((ness and
forced her to set out u'on the 'ath of se(f.correction
and growth. I be(ieve that this 'attern ho(ds true for
most menta( i((ness. The sym'toms and the i((ness are
not the same thing. The i((ness e/ists (ong before the
sym'toms. Rather than being the i((ness, the sym'toms
are the beginning of its cure. The fact that they are
unwanted ma%es them a(( the more a 'henomenon of
gr ace. a gift of
(race and 5ental Illness3 The 5yth o" 4restes 26#
=od, a message from the unconscious, if you wi((, to
initiate se(f.e/amination and re'air.
)s is common with grace, most re8ect this gift and do
not heed the message. They do this in a variety of
ways, a(( of which re'resent an attem't to avoid the
res'onsibi(ity for their i((ness. They try to ignore the
sym'toms by 'retending that they are not rea((y
sym'toms, that everyone gets these (itt(e attac%s
from time to time.

They try to wor% around them by

>uitting 8obs, sto''ing driving, moving to a new town,
avoiding certain activities. They attem't to rid them.
se(ves of the sym'toms by 'ain.%i((ers, by (itt(e 'i((s
they"ve gotten from the doctor or by anesthetiFing
themse(ves with a(coho( and other drugs. 6ven if they
do acce't the fact that they have sym'toms, they wi((
usua((y, in many subt(e ways, b(ame the wor(d outside
them.uncaring re(atives, fa(se friends, greedy
cor'orations, a sic% society, and even fate.for their
condition. On(y those few who acce't res'onsibi(ity for
their sym'toms, who rea(iFe that their sym'toms are a
manifestation of a disorder in their own sou(, heed the
message of their unconscious and acce't its grace.
They acce't their own inade>uacy and the 'ain of the
wor% necessary to hea( themse(ves. 9ut to them, as to
9etsy and a(( the others wi((ing to face the 'ain of
'sychothera'y, comes great reward. It was of them that
Christ s'o%e in the first of the beatitudes0 9(essed are
the 'oor in s'irit, for theirs is the Eingdom of Heaven.
H
<hat I am saying here of the re(ationshi' between
grace and menta( i((ness is beautifu((y embodied in the
great =ree% myth of Orestes and the ;uries. t Orestes
was a grandson of
*
@+B =R)C6
)treus, a man who had vicious(y attem'ted to 'rove
himse(f more 'owerfu( than the gods. 9ecause of his crime
against them, the gods 'unished )treus by '(acing a curse
u'on a(( his descendants. )s 'art of the enactment of this
curse u'on the House of )treus, Orestes" mother,
C(ytemnestra, murdered his father and her husband,
)gamemnon. This crime in turn brought down the curse
u'on Orestes" head, because by the =ree% code of honor a
son was ob(iged, above a(( e(se, to s(ay his father"s
murderer. 7et the greatest sin a =ree% cou(d commit was
the sin of matricide. Orestes agoniFed over his di(emma.
;ina((y he did what he seeming(y had to do and %i((ed his
mother. ;or this sin the gods then 'unished Orestes by
visiting u'on him the ;uries, three ghast(y har'ies who
cou(d be seen and heard on(y by him and who tormented
him night and day with their cac%(ing criticism and
frightening a''earance.
$ursued wherever he went by the ;uries, Orestes wan.
dered about the (and see%ing to atone for his crime. )fter
many years of (one(y ref(ection and se(f.abrogation Orestes
re>uested the gods to re(ieve him of the curse on the
House of )treus and its visitations u'on him through the
;uries, stating his be(ief that he had succeeded in atoning
for the murder of his mother. ) tria( was he(d by the gods.
#'ea%ing in Orestes
"
defense, )'o((o argued that he had
engineered the who(e situation that had '(aced Orestes in
the 'osition in which he had no choice but to %i(( his
mother, and therefore Orestes rea((y cou(d not be he(d
res'onsib(e. )t this 'oint Orestes 8um'ed u' and
contradicted his own defender, stating, It was I, not
)'o((o, that murdered my mother1 The gods were amaFed.
Never before had a member of the House of )treus
assumed such tota( res'onsibi(ity for himse(f and not
b(amed the gods. 6ventua((y the gods decided the tria( in
Orestes" favor, and not on(y re(ieved him of the curse u'on
the House of )treus but a(so transformed the ;uries into
the 6umenides, (oving s'irits who through their wise
counse( enab(ed Orestes to obtain continuing good fortune.
The meaning of this myth is not obscure. The
6umenides,
(race and 5ental Illness3 The 5yth o" 4restes
@+2
or benignant ones,

are a(so referred to as the

bearers of grace. The ha((ucinatory ;uries, who cou(d
be 'erceived on(y by Orestes, re'resent his sym'toms,
the 'rivate he(( of menta( i((ness. The transformation of
the ;uries into the 6umenides is the transformation of
menta( i((ness into good for.tune, of which we have
been s'ea%ing. This transformation occurred by virtue
of the fact that Orestes was wi((ing to acce't
res'onsibi(ity for his menta( i((ness. <hi(e he u(ti .
mate(y sought to be re(ieved of them, he did not see
the ;uries as an un8ust 'unishment or 'erceive himse(f
to be a victim of society or of anything e(se. 9eing an
inevitab(e resu(t of the origina( curse u'on the House of
)treus, the ;uries a(so symbo(iFe the fact that menta(
i((ness is a fami(y affair, created in one by one"s 'arents
and grand'arents as the sins of the father are visited
u'on the chi(dren. 9ut Orestes did not b(ame his
f ami ( y. hi s 'arents or his grandfather.as he we(( might
have. Nor did he b(ame the gods or fate.

Instead he
acce'ted his condition as one of his own ma%ing and
undertoo% the effort to hea( it. It was a (engthy
'rocess, 8ust as most thera'y tends to be (engthy. 9ut
as a resu(t he was hea(ed, and through this hea(ing
'rocess of his own effort, the very things that had
once caused him agony became the same things that
brought him wisdom.
)(( e/'erienced 'sychothera'ists have seen this myth
acted out in their own 'ractices and have actua((y
witnessed the transformation of the ;uries into the
6umenides within the minds and (ives of their more
successfu( 'atients. It is not an easy transformation. )s
soon as they rea(iFe that they wi(( u(timate(y be
re>uired by the 'rocess of 'sychothera'y to assume
tota( res'onsibi(ity for their condition and its cure,
most 'atients, no matter how eager for thera'y they
initia((y a''eared to be, wi(( dro' out. They choose
rather to be sic% and have the gods to b(ame than to
be we(( with no one to b(ame ever again. Of the
minority who stay in thera'y most must sti(( be taught
to assume tota( res'onsibi(ity for them.se(ves as a 'art
of their hea(ing. This teaching.training might be a
more accurate word..is a 'ainsta%ing affair as the
@+C =R)C6
thera'ist methodica((y confronts 'atients with their
avoidance of res'onsibi(ity again and again and again,
session after session, month after month, and often
year after year. ;re>uent(y, (i%e stubborn chi(dren, they
wi(( %ic% and scream a(( the way as they are (ed to the
notion of tota( res'onsibi(ity for themse(ves. 6ventua((y,
however, they arrive. It is on(y the rare 'atient who
enters thera'y with a wi((ingness to assume tota(
res'onsibi(ity from the beginning. Thera'y in such
cases, whi(e it sti(( may re>uire a year or two, is
re(ative(y brief, re(ative(y smooth, and fre>uent(y a very
'(easant 'rocess for both 'atient and thera'ist. In any
case, whether re(ative(y easy or difficu(t and 'ro(onged,
the transformation of the ;uries into the 6umenides
does occur.
Those who have faced their menta( i((ness, acce'ted
tota( res'onsibi(ity for it, and made the necessary
changes in them.se(ves to overcome it, find themse(ves
not on(y cured and free from the curses of their
chi(dhood and ancestry but a(so find themse(ves (iving
in a new and different wor(d. <hat they once 'erceived
as 'rob(ems they now 'erceive as o''ortuni ties. <hat
were once (oathsome harriers are now we(come
cha((enges. Thoughts 'revious(y unwanted become
he('fu( insights: fee(ings 'revious(y disowned become
sources of energy and guidance. Occurrences that once
seemed to be bur.dens now seem to be gifts, inc(uding
the very sym'toms from which they have recovered.
!y de'ression and my an/iety attac%s were the best
things that ever ha''ened to me, they wi(( routine(y
say at the termination of successfu( thera'y. 6ven if
they emerge from thera'y without a be(ief in =od, such
successfu( 'atients sti(( genera((y do so with a very rea(
sense that they have been touched by grace.
Resistance to (race
Orestes did not go to a 'sychothera'ist: he hea(ed
himse(f. )nd even had there been e/'ert 'sychiatrists
in ancient =reece, he sti(( wou(d have had to hea(
himse(f. ;or, as has been mentioned, 'sychothera'y is
on(y a t oo( . a disci'(ine. It is u' to the 'atient to choose
or re8ect the too(, and once chosen, it is the 'atient who
determines how much to use the too( and to what end.
There are 'eo'(e who wi(( overcome a(( manner of
obstac(es.for e/am'(e, insufficient funds, 'revious
disastrous e/'eriences with 'sychiatrists or
'sychothera'ists, disa''roving re(atives, co(d and
re8ecting c( i ni cs.to obtain thera'y and every (ast
ounce of its 'ossib(e benefit. Others, however, wi((
re8ect thera'y even if it is offered them on a si(ver
'(atter, or e(se, even if they do become engaged in a
thera'eutic re(ationshi', wi(( sit in it (i%e a bum' on a
(og, e/tracting from it a(most nothing no matter how
great the thera'ist"s s%i(( and effort and (ove. <hi(e at
the conc(usion of a successfu( case I am tem'ted to
fee( that I have cured the 'atient, I %now the rea(ity of
the situation is that I have been no more than a cata.
( yst . and fortunate to be that. #ince u(timate(y 'eo'(e
hea( themse(ves with or without the too( of
'sychothera'y, why is it that so few do and so many do
not& #ince the 'ath of s'iritua( growth, a(beit difficu(t, is
o'en to a((, why do so few choose to trave( it&
It was to this >uestion that Christ was addressing
himse(f when he said,

!any are ca((ed, but few are

chosen.H 9ut why is it that the few are chosen, and
what is it that distinguishes those few from the many&
The answer that most 'sychothera'ists are accustomed
to give is based on a conce't of
@+- =R)C6
differing severity of 'sycho'atho(ogy. In other words,
they be(ieve that whi(e most 'eo'(e are sic%, some are
sic%er than others, and the sic%er one is the more
difficu(t it is for that one to be hea(ed. !oreover, the
severity of one"s menta( i((ness is direct(y determined by
the severity and the ear(iness of the 'arenta(
de'rivation that one e/'erienced in chi(dhood. #'ecif.
ica((y, individua(s with 'sychoses are thought to have
e/'erienced e/treme(y 'oor 'arenting in the first nine
months of (ife: their resu(ting i((ness can be ame(iorated
by this or that form of treatment, but it is a(most
im'ossib(e to cure. Individua(s with character disorders
are thought to have e/'erienced ade>uate care as
infants but very 'oor care during the 'eriod between
rough(y nine months and two years of age, with the
resu(t that they are (ess sic% than 'sychotics but sti((
>uite sic% indeed and very difficu(t to cure. Individua(s
with neuroses are thought to have received ade>uate
'arenting in their very ear(y chi(dhood but then to have
suffered from 'oor 'arenting sometime after the age of
two but usua((y beginning before the age of five or si/.
Neurotics are therefore thought to be (ess sic% than
either character.disordered 'eo'(e or 'sychotics, and
conse>uent(y much easier to treat and cure.
There is, I be(ieve, a good dea( of truth to this schema,
and it forms a body of 'sychiatric theory that is >uite
usefu( to 'ractitioners in a number of ways. It shou(d
not be b(ithe(y criticiFed. Nonethe(ess, it fai(s to te(( the
who(e story. )mong other things, it denigrates the vast
im'ortance of 'arenting in (ate chi(dhood and
ado(escence. There is good reason to be(ieve that 'oor
'arenting in these (ater years can 'roduce menta(
i((ness in and of itse(f, and that good 'arenting during
the (ater years can hea( many and 'erha's a(( of the
wounds caused by ear(ier 'oor 'arenting. !oreover,
whi(e the schema has 'redictive va(ue in a statistica(
sense.neurotics are, on the average, easier to treat than
character.disordered 'ersons, and those with character
disorders are, on the average, easier to treat than
'sychoti cs.i t fai(s to 'redict very we(( the course of
growth in an individua( case. Thus, for e/am'(e, the most
ra'id course
Resistance to (race 266
of a com'(ete(y successfu( ana(ysis I have ever conducted
was with a man who came to me with a ma8or 'sychosis
and whose thera'y was conc(uded nine months (ater. On
the other hand, I wor%ed for three years with a woman
who c(ear(y had on(y a neurosis and achieved 8ust on(y
minima( im'rovement.
)mong the factors that the schema of the differing
severity of menta( i((ness fai(s to ta%e into account is an
e'hemera( some.thing in the individua( 'atient which
might be ca((ed a wi(( to grow. It is 'ossib(e for an
individua( to be e/treme(y i(( and yet at the same time
'ossess an e/treme(y strong wi(( to grow, in which case
hea(ing wi(( occur. On the other hand, a 'erson who is
on(y mi(d(y i((, as best we can define 'sychiatric i((ness,
but who (ac%s the wi(( to grow, wi(( not budge an inch from
an unhea(thy 'osition. I therefore be(ieve that the
'atient
"
s wi(( to grow is the one crucia( determinant of
success or fai(ure in 'sychothera'y. 7et it is a factor that
is not at a(( understood or even recogniFed by
contem'orary 'sychiatric theory.
)(though I am recogniFing the e/treme im'ortance of
this wi(( to grow, I am not sure how much I wi(( be ab(e to
contribute to its understanding, since the conce't brings
us once again to the edge of mystery. It wi(( be
immediate(y a''arent that the wi(( to grow is in essence
the same 'henomenon as (ove. ?ove is the wi(( to e/tend
onese(f for s'iritua( growth. =enuine(y (oving 'eo'(e are,
by definition, growing 'eo'(e. I have s'o%en about how
the ca'acity to (ove is nurtured in one by (oving
'arenting, but I have a(so noted that 'arenta( nurturing
a(one fai(s to account for the e/istence of this ca'acity in
a(( 'eo'(e. The reader wi(( remember that the second
section of this boo% conc(uded with four >uestions about
(ove, two of which we are now considering0 why some
'eo'(e fai( to res'ond to treatment by the best and most
(oving thera'ists, and why some 'eo'(e transcend the
most (ove(ess chi(dhoods, with or without the he(' of
'sychothera'y, to become themse(ves (oving 'ersons.
The reader wi(( a(so remember I stated then that I
doubted that I wou(d be ab(e to answer these >uestions
to anyone"s com'(ete satisfaction. I suggested, however,
that
A33 =R)C6
some (ight cou(d be thrown on these >uestions by
consideration of the conce't of grace.
I have come to be(ieve and have tried to demonstrate
that 'eo'(e"s ca'acity to (ove, and hence their wi(( to
grow, is nurtured not on(y by the (ove of their 'arents
during chi(dhood but a(so throughout their (ives by grace,
or =od"s (ove. This is a 'owerfu( force e/terna( to their
consciousness which o'erates through the agency of
their own unconscious as we(( as through the agency of
(oving 'ersons other than their 'arents and through
additiona( ways which we do not understand. It is
because of grace that it is 'ossib(e for 'eo'(e to
transcend the traumas of (ove(ess 'arenting and become
themse(ves (oving individua(s who have risen far above
their 'arents on the sca(e of human evo(ution. <hy,
then, do on(y some 'eo'(e s'iritua((y grow and evo(ve
beyond the circumstances of their 'arentage& I be(ieve
that grace is avai(ab(e to everyone, that we are a((
c(oa%ed in the (ove of =od, no one (ess nob(y than
another. The on(y answer I can give, therefore, is that
most of us choose not to heed the ca(( of grace and to
re8ect its assistance. Christ"s assertion !any are ca((ed,
but few are chosen I wou(d trans.(ate to mean )(( of us
are ca((ed by and to grace, but few of us choose to (isten
to the ca((.
The >uestion, then, becomes0 <hy is it that so few of
us choose to heed the ca(( of grace& <hy do most of us
actua((y resist grace& <e s'o%e ear(ier of grace
'roviding us with a certain unconscious resistance to
i((ness. How is it, then, that we seem to 'ossess an
a(most e>ua( resistance to hea(th& The answer to this
>uestion has, in fact, a(ready been given. It is our
(aFiness, the origina( sin of entro'y with which we have
a(( been cursed. Gust as grace is the u(timate source of
the force that 'ushes us to ascend the (adder of human
evo(ution, so it is entro'y that causes us to resist that
force, to stay at the comfortab(e, easy rung where we
now are or even to descend to (ess and (ess demanding
forms of e/istence. <e have ta(%ed at (ength about how
difficu(t it is to disci'(ine ourse(ves, to genuine(y (ove, to
s'iritua((y grow. It is on(y natura( that we shou(d shrin%
from the difficu(ty. <hi(e we have dea(t with the basics
Resistance to (race #;1
of the 'rob(em of entro'y or (aFiness, there is one
as'ect of the 'rob(em that deserves, once again,
'articu(ar mention0 the issue of 'ower.
$sychiatrists and many (aymen are fami(iar with the
fact that 'sychiatric 'rob(ems occur with remar%ab(e
fre>uency in individua(s short(y after 'romotion to
'ositions of higher 'ower and res'onsibi(ity. The mi(itary
'sychiatrist, who is 'articu(ar(y fami(iar with this 'rob(em
of 'romotion neurosis, is a(so aware that the 'rob(em
does not occur with even greater fre>uency, because
vast numbers of so(diers are successfu( in resisting their
'romotions in the first '(ace. There are a great many
(ow.ran%ing career noncommissioned officers who sim'(y
do not want to become to' sergeants, first sergeants or
sergeant ma8ors. )nd there are a(so (arge numbers of
inte((igent noncommissioned officers who wou(d rather
die than become officers and who, often re'eated(y,
re8ect offers of officer training for which, by virtue of their
inte((igence and stabi(ity, they wou(d seem to be we((
>ua(ified.
)nd so it is with s'iritua( growth as we(( as in
'rofessiona( (ife. ;or the ca(( to grace is a 'romotion, a
ca(( to a 'osition of higher res'onsibi(ity and 'ower. To
be aware of grace, to 'ersona((y e/'erience its constant
'resence, to %now one"s nearness to =od, is to %now and
continua((y e/'erience an inner tran>ui(ity and 'eace
that few 'ossess. On the other hand, this %now(edge and
awareness brings with it an enormous res'onsibi(ity. ;or
to e/'erience one"s c(oseness to =od is a(so to
e/'erience the ob(igation to be =od, to be the agent of
His 'ower and (ove. The ca(( to grace is a ca(( to a (ife of
effortfu( caring, to a (ife of service and whatever
sacrifice seems re>uired. It is a ca(( out of s'iritua(
chi(dhood into adu(thood, a ca(( to be a 'arent unto
man%ind. T. #. 6(iot described the matter we(( in the
Christmas sermon he had Thomas 9ec%et de(iver in the
'(ay 5urder in the !athedral3
9ut thin% for a whi(e on the meaning of this word

'eace. Does it seem strange to you that the

ange(s shou(d have announced $eace, when
cease(ess(y the wor(d has been
A3@ =R)C6
stric%en with <ar and the fear of <ar& Does it seem
to you that the ange(ic voices were mista%en, and
that the 'romise was a disa''ointment and a cheat&
Ref(ect now, how our ?ord Himse(f s'o%e of $eace.
He said to His disci'(es !y 'eace I (eave with you,
my 'eace I give unto you. Did He mean 'eace as we
thin% of it0 the %ingdom of 6ng(and at 'eace with its
neighbors, the barons at 'eace with the Eing, the
househo(der counting over his 'eacefu( gains, the
swe't hearth, his best wine for a friend at the tab(e,
his wife singing to the chi(dren& Those men His
disci'(es %new no such things0 they went forth to
8ourney afar, to suffer by (and and sea, to %now
torture, im'risonment, disa''ointment, to suffer
death by martyr.dom. <hat then did He mean& If
you as% that, remember then that He said a(so, Not
as the wor(d gives, give I unto you. #o then, He gave
to His disci'(es 'eace, but not 'eace as the wor(d
gives.H
#o with the 'eace of grace come agoniFing
res'onsibi(ities, duties, ob(igations. It is not remar%ab(e
that so many we((.>ua(ified sergeants have no desire to
assume the mant(e of an officer. )nd it is no wonder that
'atients in 'sychothera'y have (itt(e taste for the 'ower
that accom'anies genuine menta( hea(th. ) young
woman who had been in thera'y with me for a year for a
'ervasive de'ression, and who had come to (earn a good
dea( about the 'sycho'atho(ogy of her re(atives, was e/.
u(tant one day about a fami(y situation that she had
hand(ed with wisdom, e>uanimity and faci(ity. I rea((y
fe(t good about it, she said. I wish I cou(d fee( that way
more often. I to(d her that she cou(d, 'ointing out to her
that the reason she had fe(t so we(( was that for the first
time in dea(ing with her fami(y she was in a 'osition of
'ower, being aware of a(( their distorted communications
and the devious ways in which they at.tem'ted to
mani'u(ate her into fu(fi((ing their unrea(istic de.
Resistance to (race #;#
mands, and therefore she was ab(e to be on to' of the
situation. I to(d her that as she was ab(e to e/tend this
ty'e of awareness to other situations she wou(d find
herse(f increasing(y on to' of things and therefore
e/'eriencing that good fee(ing more and more
fre>uent(y. #he (oo%ed at me with the beginning of a
sense of horror. 9ut that wou(d re>uire me to be
thin%ing a(( the time1 she said. I agreed with her that it
was through a (ot of thin%ing that her 'ower wou(d
evo(ve and be maintained, and that she wou(d be rid of
the fee(ing of 'ower(essness at the root of her
de'ression. #he became furious. I don"t want to have
to thin% a(( the goddamn time, she roared. I didn"t
come here for my (ife to be made more difficu(t. I want
to be ab(e to 8ust re(a/ and en8oy myse(f. 7ou e/'ect
me to be some sort of god or something1 #ad to say, it
was short(y afterward that this 'otentia((y bri((iant
woman terminated treatment, far short of being
hea(ed, terrified of the demands that menta( hea(th
wou(d re>uire of her.
It may sound strange to (aymen, but
'sychothera'ists are fami(iar with the fact that 'eo'(e
are routine(y terrified by menta( hea(th. ) ma8or 'art of
the tas% of 'sychothera'y is not on(y to bring 'atients
to the e/'erience of menta( hea(th but a(so, through a
mi/ture of conso(ation, reassurance and sternness, to
'revent them from running away from that e/'erience
once they have arrived at it. One as'ect of this
fearfu(ness is rather (egitimate and, by itse(f, not
unhea(thy0 the fear that if one becomes 'owerfu( one
might misuse 'ower. #aint )ugustine wrote, ?*ilige et
Duod vis "ac, ? meaning If you are (oving and di(igent,
you may do whatever you want . If 'eo'(e 'rogress
far enough in 'sychothera'y they wi(( eventua((y (eave
behind the fee(ing that they cannot co'e with a
merci(ess and overwhe(ming wor(d and wi(( one day
sudden(y rea(iFe that they have it in their 'ower to do
whatever they want. The rea(iFation of this freedom is
frightening. If I can do whatever I want, they wi((
thin%, what is to 'revent me from ma%ing
A3B =R)C6
gross mista%es, from committing crimes, from being
immora(, from abusing my freedom and 'ower& Is my
di(igence and my (ove a(one sufficient to govern me&
If the rea(iFation of one"s 'ower and freedom is
e/'erienced as a ca(( to grace, as it often is, then the
res'onse wi(( a(so be, 3 ?ord, I fear I am not worthy
of your trust in me. This fearfu(ness is, of course, itse(f
an integra( 'art of one"s di(igence and (ove, and
therefore usefu( in the se(f.governance that 're.vents
the abuse of 'ower. ;or this reason it is not to be cast
aside: but it shou(d not be so monumenta( as to 'revent
a 'erson from heeding the ca(( to grace and assuming
the 'ower of which he or she is ca'ab(e. #ome who
have been ca((ed to grace may wrest(e for years with
their fearfu(ness before they are ab(e to transcend it
so as to acce't their own god(iness. <hen this
fearfu(ness and sense of unworthiness is so great as to
consistent(y 'revent the assum'tion of 'ower, it is a
neurotic 'rob(em, and dea(ing with it may be a centra(
issue or even the centra( issue in one"s
'sychothera'y.
9ut for most 'eo'(e the fear that they might abuse
the 'ower is not the centra( issue in their resistance to
grace. It is not the Do what you want 'art of #aint
)ugustine"s ma/im that causes them indigestion but
the 9e di(igent 'art. !ost of us are (i%e chi(dren or
young ado(escents: we be(ieve that the freedom and
'ower of adu(thood is our due, but we have (itt(e taste
for adu(t res'onsibi(ity and se(f.disci'(ine. !uch as we
fee( o''ressed by our 'arents. or by society or f at e.
we actua((y seem to need to have 'owers above us to
b(ame for our condition. To rise to a 'osition of such
'ower that we have no one to b(ame e/ce't ourse(ves
is a fearfu( state of affairs. )s has a( .ready been
mentioned, were it not for =od"s 'resence with us in
that e/a(ted 'osition, we wou(d be terrified by our
a(oneness. #ti((, many have so (itt(e ca'acity to to(erate
the a(oneness of 'ower that they re8ect =od"s
'resence rather than e/'erience themse(ves as the
so(e master of their shi'. !ost 'eo'(e want 'eace
without the a(oneness of 'ower. )nd they want the
se(f.confidence of adu(thood without having to grow
u'.
<e have s'o%en in various ways about how difficu(t
it is to
Resistance to (race A32
grow u'. ) very few march unambiva(ent(y and
unhesitating(y into adu(thood, ever eager for new and
greater res'onsibi(ities. !ost drag their feet and in fact
never become more than 'artia( adu(ts, a(ways shrin%ing
from the demands of tota( adu(thood. #o it is with
s'iritua( growth, which is inse'arab(e from the 'rocess
of 'sycho(ogica( maturation. ;or the ca(( to grace in its
u(timate form is a summons to be one with =od, to
assume 'eershi' with =od. Hence it is a ca(( to tota(
adu(thood. <e are accustomed to imagining the
e/'erience of conversion or sudden ca(( to grace as an
Oh, 8oy1 'henomenon. In my e/'erience, more often
than not it is, at (east 'artia((y, an Oh, shit
'henomenon. )t the moment we fina((y (isten to the
ca(( we may say, Oh, than% you, ?ord: or we may say,
3 ?ord, I am not worthy: or we may say, 3 ?ord, do
I have to&
#o the fact that many are ca((ed but few are chosen
is easi(y e/'(ainab(e in view of the difficu(ties inherent in
res'onding to the ca(( to grace. The >uestion we are
(eft with, then, is not why 'eo'(e fai( to acce't
'sychothera'y, or fai( to benefit from it even in the best
hands, or why humans routine(y resist grace: the force
of entro'y ma%es it on(y natura( that they shou(d do so.
Rather, the >uestion is the o''osite0 How is it that a few
do heed the ca(( that is so difficu(t& <hat distinguishes
the few from the many& I am unab(e to answer this
>uestion. These 'eo'(e %ay come from wea(thy,
cu(tured bac%grounds or from im'overished,
su'erstitious ones. They may have e/'erienced
basica((y (oving 'arenting, but they are as (i%e(y to
have e/'erienced 'rofound de'rivation of 'arenta(
affection or genuine concern. They may enter
'sychothera'y because of minor difficu(ties of
ad8ustment or with overwhe(ming menta( i((ness. They
may be o(d or young. They may heed the ca(( to grace
sudden(y and with a''arent ease. Or they may fight
and curse against it, on(y gradua((y and 'ainfu((y giving
way to it, inch by inch. Conse>uent(y, with e/'erience
over the years, I have actua((y become (ess rather than
more se(ective in determining with whom I wi(( attem't
thera'y. I a'o(ogiFe to those I have e/c(uded from
thera'y as a resu(t of my ignorance. ;or I have (earned
that in the ear(ier stages of the 'sychothera'eutic 'ro.
A3C =R)C6
cess I have abso(ute(y no abi(ity to 'redict which of my
'atients wi(( fai( to res'ond to thera'y, which wi((
res'ond with significant but sti(( 'artia( growth, and
which wi((, miracu(ous(y, grow a(( the way to the state of
grace. Christ himse(f s'o%e of the un'redictabi(ity of
grace when he said to Nicodemus0 Gust as you can hear
the wind but can"t te(( where it comes from or where it
wi(( go ne/t, so it is with the #'irit. <e do not %now on
whom he wi(( ne/t bestow this (ife from heaven. H !uch
as we have been ab(e to say about the 'henomenon of
grace, in the end we are (eft having to ac%now(edge its
mysterious nature.
The Welco%ing o" (race
)nd we are (eft again facing 'arado/. Throughout this
boo% I have been writing of s'iritua( growth as if it were
an order(y, 'redictab(e 'rocess. It has been im'(ied that
s'iritua( growth may be (earned as one might (earn a
fie(d of %now(edge through a $h.D. 'rogram: if you 'ay
your tuition and wor% hard enough, of course you wi((
succeed and get your degree. I have inter'reted
Christ"s saying !any are ca((ed but few are chosen to
mean that very few choose to heed the ca(( of grace
because of the difficu(ties invo(ved. 9y this inter'retation
I have indicated that whether or not we become b(essed
by grace is a matter of our choice. 6ssentia((y, I have
been saying that grace is earned. )nd I %now this to be
true.
)t the same time, however, I %now that that"s not the
way it is at a((. <e do not come to grace: grace comes to
us. Try as we might to obtain grace, it may yet e(ude us.
<e may see% it not,
yet it wi(( find us. Conscious(y we may avid(y desire the
s'iritua( (ife but then discover a(( manner of stumb(ing
b(oc%s in our way. Or we may have seeming(y (itt(e taste
for the s'iritua( (ife and yet find ourse(ves vigorous(y
ca((ed to it in s'ite of our.se(ves. <hi(e on one (eve( we
do choose whether or not to heed the ca(( of grace, on
another it seems c(ear that =od is the one who does the
choosing. The common e/'erience of those who have
achieved a state of grace, on whom this new (ife from
heaven has been bestowed, is one of amaFement at
their condition. They do not fee( that they have earned
it. <hi(e they may have a rea(istic awareness of the
'articu(ar goodness of their nature, they do not ascribe
their nature to their own swi((: rather, they distinct(y fee(
that the goodness of their nature has been created by
hands wiser and more s%i((ed than their own. Those who
are the c(osest to grace are the most aware of the
mysterious character of the gift they have been given.
How do we reso(ve this 'arado/& <e don"t. $erha's
the best that we can say is that whi(e we cannot wi((
ourse(ves to grace, we can by wi(( o'en ourse(ves to its
miracu(ous coming. <e can 're'are ourse(ves to be
ferti(e ground, a we(coming '(ace. If we can ma%e
ourse(ves into tota((y disci'(ined, who((y (oving
individua(s, then, even though we may be ignorant of
theo(ogy and give no thought to =od, we wi(( have
're'ared ourse(ves we(( for the coming of grace.
Converse(y, the study of theo(ogy is a re(ative(y 'oor
method of 're'aration and, by itse(f, com'(ete(y
use(ess. Nonethe(ess, I have written this section
because * do be(ieve that the awareness of the
e/istence of grace can be of considerab(e assistance to
those who have chosen to trave( the difficu(t 'ath of
s'iritua( growth. ;or this awareness wi(( faci(itate their
8ourney in at (east three ways0 it wi(( he(' them to ta%e
advantage of grace a(ong the way: it wi(( give them a
surer sense of direction: and it wi(( 'rovide
encouragement.
The Welco%ing o" (race @<:
The 'arado/ that we both choose grace and are
chosen by grace is the essence of the 'henomenon of
serendi'ity. #erendi'ity was defined as the gift of
finding va(uab(e or agreeab(e things not sought for.
9uddha found en(ightenment on(y
A3- =R)C6
when he sto''ed see%ing for i t . when he (et it come to
him. On the other hand, who can doubt that
en(ightenment came to him 'recise(y because he had
devoted at (east si/teen years of his (ife see%ing it,
si/teen years in 're'aration& He had to both see% for it
and not see% for it. The ;uries were transformed into the
9earers of =race a(so 'recise(y because Orestes both
wor%ed to gain the favor of the gods and at the same
time did not e/'ect the gods to ma%e his way easy for
him. It was through this same 'arado/ica( mi/ture of
see%ing and not see%ing that he obtained the gift of
serendi'ity and the b(essings of grace.
This same 'henomenon is routine(y demonstrated by
the manner in which 'atients uti(iFe dreams in
'sychothera'y. #ome 'atients, aware of the fact that
dreams contain answers to their 'rob(ems, wi(( avid(y
see% these answers by de(iberate(y, mechanica((y and
with considerab(e effort, recording each and every one
of their dreams in com'(ete detai(, and wi(( (itera((y bring
to their sessions reams of dreams. 9ut their dreams are
of (itt(e he(' to them. Indeed, a(( this dream materia(
may be a hindrance to their thera'y. ;or one thing, there
is not enough thera'y time to ana(yFe a(( these dreams.
;or another, this vo(uminous dream materia( may serve
to 'revent wor% in more fruitfu( areas of ana(ysis. )nd
then it is (i%e(y that a(( this materia( wi(( be singu(ar(y
obscure. #uch 'atients must be taught to sto'
searching after their dreams, to (et their dreams come
to them, to (et their unconscious ma%e the choice of
which dreams shou(d enter consciousness. This teaching
itse(f may be >uite difficu(t, demanding as it does that
the 'atient give u' a certain amount of contro( and
assume a more 'assive re(ation.shi' in his or her own
mind. 9ut once a 'atient (earns to ma%e no conscious
effort to c(utch at dreams, the remembered dream
materia( decreases in >uantity, but it dramatica((y
increases in >ua(ity. The resu(t is that the 'atient"s
dreams.these gifts from the unconscious now no (onger
sought for.e(egant(y faci(itate the hea(ing 'rocess that
is desired. If we (oo% at the other side of the coin,
however, we find that there are many 'atients who
enter 'sychothera'y with abso(ute(y no aware.
*
The Wel co%i ng o" (race #;6
ness or understanding of the immense va(ue that
dreams can be to them. Conse>uent(y they discard
from consciousness a(( dream materia( as worth(ess and
unim'ortant. These 'atients must first be taught to
remember their dreams and then how to a''reciate and
'erceive the treasure within them. To uti(iFe dreams
effective(y we must wor% to be aware of their va(ue and
to ta%e advantage of them when they come to us, and
we must a(so wor% sometimes at not see%ing or
e/'ecting them. <e must (et them be true gifts.
#o it is with grace. <e have a(ready seen that dreams
are but one form or way in which the gifts of grace are
given to us. The same 'ara io/ica( a''roach shou(d be
em'(oyed toward a(( the other forms0 sudden insights,
'remonitions and a who(e host of synchronistic,
serendi'itous events. )nd to a(( (ove. 6very.one wants
to be (oved. 9ut first we must ma%e ourse(ves (ovab(e.
<e must 're'are ourse(ves to be (oved. <e do this by
becoming ourse(ves (oving, disci'(ined human beings.
If we see% to be ( oved. i f we e/'ect to be (oved.this
cannot be accom'(ished: we wi(( be de'endent and
gras'ing, not genuine(y (oving. 9ut when we nurture
ourse(ves and others with.out a 'rimary concern of
finding reward, then we wi(( have become (ovab(e, and
the reward of being (oved, which we have not sought,
wi(( find us. #o it is with human (ove and so it is with
=od"s (ove.
) ma8or 'ur'ose of this section on grace has been to
assist those on the 8ourney of s'iritua( growth to (earn
the ca'acity of serendi'ity. )nd (et us redefine
serendi'ity not as a gift itse(f but as a (earned ca'acity
to recogniFe and uti(iFe the gifts of grace which are
given to us from beyond the rea(m of our conscious
wi((. <ith this ca'acity, we wi(( find that our 8ourney of
s'iritua( growth is guided by the invisib(e hand and
unimaginab(e wisdom of =od with infinite(y greater
accuracy than that of which our unaided conscious wi((
is ca'ab(e. #o guided, the 8ourney becomes ever
faster.
One way or another, these conce'ts have been set
forth bef or e. by 9uddha, by Christ, by ?ao.tse, among
many others. The origina(ity of this boo% resu(ts from the
fact that I have
I
A*3 =R)C6
arrived at their same meaning through the 'articu(ar
individua( byways of my twentieth.century (ife. If you
re>uire greater understanding than these modern
footnotes have to offer, then by a(( means 'roceed or
return to the ancient te/ts. #ee% greater understanding,
but do not e/'ect greater detai(. There are many who,
by virtue of their 'assivity, de'endency, fear and
(aFiness, see% to be shown every inch of the way and
have it demonstrated to them that each ste' wi(( he safe
and worth their whi(e. This cannot be done. ;or the
8ourney of s'iritua( growth re>uires courage and
initiative and inde'endence of thought and action. <hi(e
the words of the 'ro'hets and the assistance of grace
are avai(ab(e, the 8ourney must sti(( be trave(ed a(one.
No teacher can carry you there. There are no 'reset
formu(as. Ritua(s are on(y (earning aids, they are not the
(earning. 6ating organic food, saying five Hai( !ary"s
before brea%.fast, 'raying facing east or west, or going to
church on #unday wi(( not ta%e you to your destination.
No words can be said, no teaching can be taught that wi((
re(ieve s'iritua( trave(ers from the necessity of 'ic%ing
their own ways, wor%ing out with effort and an/iety their
own 'aths through the uni>ue circumstances of their
own (ives toward the identification of their individua(
se(ves with =od.
6ven when we tru(y understand these matters, the
8ourney of s'iritua( growth is sti(( so (one(y and difficu(t
that we often become discouraged. The fact that we (ive
in a scientific age, whi(e he('fu( in some res'ects,
serves in others to foster discouragement. <e be(ieve
in the mechanica( 'rinci'(es of the universe: not in
mirac(es. Through our science we have come to (earn
that our dwe((ing '(ace is but a sing(e '(anet of a sing(e
star (ost amid one ga(a/y among many. )nd 8ust as we
seem (ost amid the enormity of the e/terna( universe, so
science has a(so (ed us to deve(o' an image of ourse(ves
as being he('(ess(y determined and governed by
interna( forces not sub8ect to our wi ( ( . by chemica(
mo(ecu(es in our brain and conf(icts in our unconscious
that com'e( us to fee( and to behave in certain ways
when we are not even aware of what we are doing. #o
the re'(acement of our human myths by scientific
information has
caused us to suffer a sense of 'ersona( meaning(essness.
Of what 'ossib(e significance cou(d we be. as individua(s
or even as a race, buffeted about by interna( chemica(
and 'sycho(ogica( forces we do not understand, invisib(e
in a universe whose dimensions are so (arge that even
our science cannot measure them&
7et it is that same science that has in certain ways
assisted me to 'erceive the rea(ity of the 'henomenon
of grace. I have attem'ted to transmit that 'erce'tion.
;or once we 'erceive the rea(ity of grace, our
understanding of ourse(ves as meaning.(ess and
insignificant is shattered. The fact that there e/ists
beyond ourse(ves and our conscious wi(( a 'owerfu(
force that nurtures our growth and evo(ution is enough
to turn our notions of se(f.insignificance to'sy.turvy. ;or
the e/istence of this force 4once we 'erceive it5 indicates
with incontrovertib(e certainty that our human s'iritua(
growth is of the utmost im'ortance to something
greater than ourse(ves. This some.thing we ca(( =od. The
e/istence of grace is .ri%a "acie evidence not on(y of the
rea(ity of =od but a(so of the rea(ity that =od"s wi(( is
devoted to the growth of the individua( human s'irit.
<hat once seemed to be a fairy ta(e turns out to be the
rea(ity. <e (ive our (ives in the eye of =od, and not at
the 'eri'hery but at the center of His vision, His
concern. It is 'robab(e that the universe as we %now it is
but a sing(e ste''ing.stone toward the entrance to the
Eingdom of =od. 9ut we are hard(y (ost in the universe.
To the contrary, the rea(ity of grace indicates humanity
to be at the center of the universe. This time and s'ace
e/ists for us to trave( through. <hen my 'atients (ose
sight of their significance and are disheartened by the
effort of the wor% we are doing, I sometimes te(( them
that the human race is in the midst of ma%ing an
evo(utionary (ea'. <hether or not we succeed in that
(ea', I say to them, is your 'ersona( res'onsibi(ity.
)nd mine. The universe, this ste''ing.stone, has been
(aid down to 're'are a way for us. 9ut we ourse(ves
must ste' across it, one by one. Through grace we are
he('ed not to stumb(e and through grace we %now that
we are being we(comed. <hat more can we as%&
A"terord
In the time since its initia( 'ub(ication, I have been
fortunate enough to receive many (etters from readers
of The Road Less Traveled. They have been
e/traordinary (etters. Inte((igent and articu(ate without
e/ce'tion, they have a(so been e/treme(y (oving. )s
we(( as e/'ressing a''reciation, most of them have
contained additiona( gifts0 a''ro'riate 'oetry, usefu(
>uotes from other authors, nuggets of wisdom and ta(es
of 'ersona( e/'erience. These (etters have enriched my
(ife. It has become c(ear to me that there is a who(e
networ%.far more vast than I had dared to be(ieve.of
'eo'(e across the country who have >uiet(y been
'roceeding for (ong distances a(ong the (ess trave(ed
road of s'iritua( growth. They have than%ed me for
diminishing their sense of a(oneness on the 8ourney. I
than% them for the same service.
) few readers have >uestioned my faith in the
efficacy of 'sychothera'y. I did suggest that the >ua(ity
of 'sychothera'ists varies wide(y. )nd I continue to
be(ieve that most of those who fai( to benefit from wor%
with a com'etent thera'ist do so because they (ac% the
taste and wi(( for the rigors of that wor%. However I did
neg(ect to s'ecify that a sma(( minority of 'eo'(e.
'erha's five 'ercent.have 'sychiatric 'rob(ems of a
nature that does not res'ond to 'sychothera'y and that
may even be made worse by the dee' intros'ection
invo(ved.
)nyone who has succeeded in thorough(y reading and
understanding this boo% is high(y un(i%e(y to be(ong to
that five
A"terord A*A
'ercent. )nd in any case, it is the res'onsibi(ity of a
com'etent thera'ist to carefu((y and sometimes
gradua((y discern those few 'atients who shou(d not be
(ed into 'sychoana(ytic wor% and to (ead them instead
toward other forms of treatment that can be >uite
beneficia(.
9ut who is a com'etent 'sychothera'ist& #evera(
readers of The Road Less Traveled who moved in the
direction of see%ing 'sychothera'y have written to
in>uire how one shou(d go about choosing the right
thera'ist, distinguishing between the com'etent and
the incom'etent. !y first 'iece of advice is to ta%e the
choice serious(y. It is one of the most im'ortant
decisions you can ma%e in your (ifetime. $sychothera'y
is a ma8or investment, not on(y of your money but even
more of your va(uab(e time and energy. It is what
stoc%bro%ers wou(d ca(( a high.ris% investment. If the
choice is right, it wi(( 'ay off handsome(y in s'iritua(
dividends you cou(d not even have dreamed of. <hi(e it
is not (i%e(y you wi(( be actua((y harmed if you ma%e
the wrong choice, you wi((, however, waste most of the
va(uab(e money, time and energy you have 'ut into it.
#o don"t hesitate to sho' around. )nd don"t hesitate
to trust your fee(ings or intuition. Usua((y on the basis
of a sing(e interview with a thera'ist, you wi(( be ab(e
to 'ic% u' either good or bad

vibes.

If the vibes are

bad, 'ay your sing(e fee and move on to another. #uch
fee(ings are usua((y intangib(e, but they may emanate
from sma(( tangib(e c(ues. )t the time I entered
thera'y in *+CC, I was very concerned and critica(
about the mora(ity of )merica"s invo(vement in the
Dietnam <ar. In his waiting room my thera'ist had
co'ies of Ra%.arts and the /e 1or' Revie o" 9oo's,
both (ibera( 8ourna(s with antiwar editoria( 'o(icies. I
had begun to 'ic% u' good vibes before I had ever set
eyes on him.
9ut more im'ortant than your thera'ist"s 'o(itica(
(eanings, age or se/ is whether he or she is a genuine(y
caring 'erson. This too you can often sense >uic%(y,
a(though the thera'ist shou(d not fa(( a(( over you with
%ind(y reassurances and sna' commitments. If
thera'ists are caring, they wi(( a(so be cautious,
disci'(ined and usua((y reserved, but it shou(d be 'os.
A*B );T6R<ORD
sib(e for you to intuit whether the reserve c(oa%s
warmth or co(dness.
#ince thera'ists wi(( be interviewing you to see
whether they want you for a 'atient, it is who((y
a''ro'riate for you to be interviewing them in return. If
it is re(evant to you, don"t ho(d bac% from as%ing what
the thera'ist"s fee(ings are about such issues as
women"s (iberation or homose/ua(ity or re(igion. 7ou are
entit(ed to honest, o'en and carefu( answers. In regard
to other ty'es of >uestions.such as how (ong ther a'y
might (ast or whether your s%in rash is 'sychosomatic.
you are usua((y we(( off to trust a thera'ist who says
that he or she does not %now. In fact, educated and
successfu( 'eo'(e in any 'rofession who admit
ignorance are genera((y the most e/'ert and
trustworthy.
) thera'ist"s abi(ity bears very (itt(e re(ationshi' to
any credentia(s he or she might have. ?ove and courage
and wisdom cannot be certified by academic degrees.
;or instance, board.certified 'sychiatrists, the
thera'ists with the most credentia(s, undergo
sufficient(y rigorous training so that one can be
re(ative(y certain of not fa((ing into the hands of a
char(atan. 9ut a 'sychiatrist is not necessari(y any
better a thera'ist than a 'sycho(ogist, a socia( wor%er
or a minister.or even as good. Indeed two of the very
greatest thera'ists I %now have never even graduated
from co((ege.
<ord of mouth is often the best way to get started on
your search for a 'sychothera'ist. If you have some
friend you res'ect who has been '(eased with the
services of a 'articu(ar thera'ist, why not begin on that
recommendation& )nother way, 'articu(ar(y advisab(e if
your sym'toms are severe or you have 'hysica(
difficu(ties as we((, wou(d be to start with a 'sychiatrist.
9y virtue of their medica( training, 'sychiatrists are
usua((y the most e/'ensive thera'ists, but they are a(so
in the best 'osition to understand a(( the ang(es of your
situation. )t the end of the hour, after the 'sychiatrist
has had a chance to (earn the dimensions of your
'rob(em, you can as% him or her to refer you to a (ess
e/'ensive nonmedica( thera'ist if a''ro'riate. The best
'sychiatrists wi(( usua((y be >uite wi((.
A"terord A*2
ing to te(( you which (ay 'ractitioners in the community
are 'articu(ar(y com'etent. Of course, if the doctor
gives you good vibes and is wi((ing to ta%e you on as a
'atient, you can stic% with him or her.
If you are financia((y stra''ed and have no medica(
insurance coverage for out'atient 'sychothera'y, your
on(y o'tion may be to see% assistance at a government.
or hos'ita(.su''orted 'sychiatric or menta( hea(th
c(inic. There a fee wi(( be set according to your means,
and you can rest 'retty we(( assured that you wi(( not
fa(( into the hands of a >uac%. On the other hand,
'sychothera'y at c(inics has a tendency to be
su'erficia(, and your ca'acity to choose your own
thera'ist may be >uite (imited. Nonethe(ess, it often
wor%s out very we((.
These brief guide(ines have 'erha's not been as
s'ecific as readers might (i%e. 9ut the centra( message
is that since 'sychothera'y re>uires an intense and
'sycho(ogica((y intimate re(ationshi' between two
human beings, nothing can re(ieve you of the
res'onsibi(ity for 'ersona((y choosing the 'articu(ar
human being whom you can trust to be your guide. The
best thera'ist for one 'erson may not be the best for
another. 6ach 'erson, thera'ist and 'atient, is uni>ue,
and you must re(y on your own uni>ue intuitive
8udgment. 9ecause there is some ris% invo(ved, I wish
you (uc%. )nd because the act of entering
'sychothera'y with a(( that it invo(ves is an act of
courage, you have my admiration.
!. #cott $ec%
9(iss Road
New $reston, Conn. 3C,,,
!arch, *+,+
A$out the Author
#cott $6CE
"
# 'ub(ishing history ref(ects his own evo(ution
as a writer, thin%er, 'sychiatrist, and inf(uentia( s'iritua(
guide. #ince The Road Less Traveled was first 'ub(ished in
*+,-, his insatiab(e inte((ectua( curiosity has ta%en him in
new directions with each boo%, most notab(y the sub8ect of
hea(ing human evi( in Peo.le o" the Lie 4*+-A5: dimensions
of Christian thought in What Return !an I 5a'e<
4coauthored with !ari(yn von <a(dener and $atricia Eay,
*+-25: the creative e/'erience of community in The
*i""erent *ru% 4*+-,5: a fictiona( e/'(oration of s'iritua(
themes in a 'owerfu( and ins'irationa( nove(, A 9ed $y the
Windo 4*++35: a chi(dren"s boo% of faith, (ove, and fami(y,
The ,riendly +no"la'e 4i((ustrated by his son, Christo'her,
*++@5: the ro(e of civi(ity in 'ersona( re(ationshi's and
society in A World Waiting to 9e 9orn 4*++A5: the crucia(
di(emmas of the nineties as the age of an/iety in The Road
Less Traveled and 9eyond 4*++,5: and the 'ersona( story of
his own 8ourney of se(f.discovery whi(e on a three.wee%
s'iritua( >uest with his wife in In +earch o" +tones 4*++C5. )
graduate of both Harvard University and Case <estern
Reserve, Dr. $ec% served in the )rmy !edica( Cor's from
*+CA to *+,@ and had a 'rivate 'ractice in 'sychiatry from
*+,@ unti( *+-A. #ince then, he has devoted much of his
time and financia( resources to the wor% of the ;oundation
for Community 6ncouragement, a non'rofit organiFation
which he and his wife, ?i(y, he('ed found in *+-B. Dr. $ec%
(ives in Connecticut.