4th April 2022.

-
Ah me, he asks, as always - if it is light enough? 
Does he ask this of everyone, or me alone.

And then, he is asking me about an email I sent, requesting that we change to day of sessions to a Friday. He asks, 'what was that about'?

I sometimes think it takes all the years I've been a trainee to get past questions like this without mischievously giving a spurious reply! 

I have no hidden agenda.

The truth is very boring and related to work schedules 

His reply is emotional, well - more emotion than I'd expect. Except all he says is, 'OK, so that's sorted'
Did he hope that if I needed to change my day, he would be able to say that he's fully booked?  This is my sad and discouraging interpretation. Or perhaps he feels relief that I'm not going? I hold onto that last thought, 98% certain it isn't true.

He asks me where I want to go today...

Me - "Well, we could do part 2 because I'm not sure where the plane is going"

Untrue - I know it will crash but I have to try...

I'm done with being open.
Time to be cryptic.

Airplane.

Part 2.

Above the clouds, and they are impossible too, I'm holding the letter and the key...

Well gentle reader, there was a lot more. But it was for him. It was a style of writing that became a part of coping. It appears to be full of riddles, but each part is full of powerful dreams, memories and reflections describing where I am. It is a hyperreal vision-board. 

My assessment...I may as well be on a plane; this room is disconnected from Earth. And we are going to crash, and I am going to be crucified by the pain of our ending. I would like him to agree that we have a duty to prevent crashing and crucifixions. He wont, he can't.

So this is how it is.

I am of course slightly mad. The preceding three years and the impossibility of my task. Nevertheless, I continue, we meet in this place of Ancient references and lost thought....

The conversation that followed encompassed the 12 Gates, the Bardo. the death of Bruno, and possibly Arianism. It touched briefly on the possibility of human sacrifice at Woodhenge, the import of grain, goats and myth from the Middle East circa 4000 BC. Skull shape and what did Jung and Freud actually say...That part was perfect!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What next?

-
Image
And so I find myself marooned - to stay with the plane crash metaphor - I've just watched Society of the Snow . And as in the film, as in the awful reality of those real events, action must be taken. There will be no rescue otherwise, no getting out.  So what action do I want to happen? In counselling, and between counsellors, what counts as resolution is usually an apology of about a thousand words. Those words need to convey to the injured other, a real understanding of the harm done, and a heartfelt regret. And how I manage to convey to Kit that this demonstration of awareness is appropriate and needed. How to do this? I don't know.  Yet. Do I make a formal complaint? The first option is to get in contact with the therapist and explain that there is a problem, and ask for some kind of resolution to be worked out. If that isn't forthcoming, if the therapist doesn't acknowledge that there has been and still is a problem, then a complaint is justified. A therapist who ...
Read more

Coercion.

-
Image
OK, this is hard - I need to dig deep. The pain of it is almost beyond my endurance, and yet at the same time I am above, observing, watching and recording. The pain is like wearing a dress made of nettles. And so I turn towards it, embrace it  and connect. Holding out my hand I ask into the empty air, 'what is your name? ' In the roiling blackness of the void I hear the words  'I am your intoxication'.  Gently I ask the pain, what do you need?  My hand touches something cold and rough, like shark's skin. And below me deep under an ocean of tears and a crimson gush of my heart's-blood, the words 'love and soul ' boil, radiant and poisonous as a nuclear flash. The sun turns blue, a 'vision' of Cherenkov light, 'the blue sun' I'd seen in my semi-psychotic state when I had left the therapy room for the last time. "love and soul..." Returning from inside to out, directing my vision to the keyboard, to the soft white light of th...
Read more

Intention.

-
Image
Yesterday I sat in the shadow of the Tor.  I had come here to complete the June visit - I connected my mp3 player to the sound bar and played a song by a young man whose death had led me here.  I thought of standing up, before letting the sounds ripple out to the four corners, to tell the whole story to everyone - and actually, in retrospect, perhaps that would have been the right thing to do.  But, I didn't.  I just played it.  It was time to let his ghost, go... As the music rang out I remembered sitting in the chamber of the coroner's court as the inquest was heard - and making my commitment to train as a therapeutic counsellor.  To become the sort of therapist he might have chosen to talk to. My question then was how do I prevent this death happening to others...or rather, how do I become the kind of counsellor who might be able to change someone's mind enough to alter their direction. At the inquest we heard that everyone had tried, everyone had done ...
Read more