The 3lack 3ox.

I brought the fairy lights. Slender copper wire, and tiny, delicate white stars. He laughs, as I drape them gently over his bookcase... And then I'm giving him a card and his money in the card, and talking about how I feel I should offer him a white scarf in return for his teachings.. There is a poem, written in the card. It is the poem that I quote on the first page of my research project: Dust of Snow BY ROBERT FROST. The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued. He asks me why? -  Why offer a scarf? I say -  "Because that's how you do it, you offer a scarf to the teacher, and the money is in an envelope" I am  purposefully  missing out the obvious, that I'm treating him as a lama. We are talking about crows, I say " I remember being sat, on Glastonbury Tor, watching a crow. And there were onion rings - not the battered rings - crispy, like crisps! And this ...

The door opens almost before I knock it! He -  "Hello, come in" He talks about heating, I mention the light. And the coffee is there, ready and waiting for me. I am assignment free for a day or two! The assignments make me feel as if I've been locked in a box, unable to think my own thoughts; that I don't know how I'd actually answer the assignments if I wasn't 'writing to pass'.  And to remedy this sense of being confined I talk about something I wrote for him last year. Me -  "So we must still have been in lockdown, April last year? I remember saying something about 'Seven Sermons to the Dead'? And I wrote you the first one - and I did write another one - but I didn't read that second one to you. None of this makes sense" Foolishly I'm attempting now to describe a semi-shamanistic practice of 'riding' experiences. How feeling tones translate into image...I blame the pressure cooker effect of my assignments, I just w...

I knock the door. Nothing happens! Feels like forever. I wait. He is making me a cup of coffee - before he opens the door.  He sees my surprise!  As I sit down I'm saying that I've had enough of writing my assignments, that I just want to be 'let off' And then I'm explaining how our three years of assignments are squeezed into two years. I am exhausted, and on the verge of being insane. And I'm talking about Unit 13, counselling children and how much I dislike   Erik Erikson (stages of development) and transitions. I explain again - "The art is to work out what the tutor wants, how to make it fit what I think the question means and fit the two together." He asks me 'what's wrong with Erikson'? Erikson - Erik - describes age related life challenges. Even when we did this in college we were in fits of laughter as we described our life challenges, not described by Erikson! Basically, life presents problems is all we are sure of. Erikson didn...

Grey skies. Rain. I want to write to him and say...surely it doesn't have to be this way. For my heart really is breaking. I come in. Questions about heating and lighting - I sigh.  I sound beaten. Done... It's over. He asks about my assignments, I talk about comparing the three modalities of psychodynamic, humanistic and CBT. We now seem to be at crossed purposes. He is arguing that CBT isn't on the 'same par' as psychodynamic or humanistic modalities, because it derives from behaviourist theories. And also... He is likening CBT to marsupials - then asks me if I see what he is getting at? Bizarrely as it may seem, I think I do. But this isn't significant. I don't set the assignments. I'd like to believe that the paradoxical and irrational nature of so much of our work at college is but a cunning plan, a way to condition our minds - like a psychological hair conditioner - to erase tangles and make us smooth and sweet scented, to teach us to stop trying...

"See that's what I see as a potential sticking point.  In the sense that normally in this space,  nothing is off the table  really"    [LINK] I take a miniature table from my bag - it is actually one of those plastic things you get with a pizza. and I say "There it is, there is the table". He is confused. I say, it is a symbolic table. I put it on the floor between us. I say: "There, the table has been placed - for things to be put upon", and he is still none the wiser. Me - "OK, no it is OK, I never expected you to understand it. You said something about 'not being able to put things on the table'.  He looks perplexed!  He asks, 'which table are we talking about? and I say. 'ah, it is your metaphor not mine'. He doesn't remember. I say,  "That's fine if you don't remember - but it is your metaphor - about 'not being able to put things on the table. So there is the table, to openly put things upon"...