The Schopenhauer Cure Read online

  Everywhere she looked, there was renunciation, sacrifice, limitation, and resignation. Whatever happened to life? To joy, expansion, passion, carpe diem?

  Was life so anguished that it should be sacrificed for the sake of equanimity? Perhaps the four noble truths were culture-bound. Perhaps they were truths for 2,500 years ago in a land with overwhelming poverty, overcrowding, starvation, disease, class oppression, and lack of any hope for a better future. But were they truths for her now? Didn't Marx have it right? Didn't all religions based on release or a better life hereafter target the poor, the suffering, the enslaved?

  But, Pam said to herself (after a few days of noble silence she talked to herself a great deal), wasn't she being an ingrate? Give credit where it was due.

  Hadn't Vipassana done its job--calmed the mind and quashed her obsessive thoughts? Hadn't it succeeded where her own best efforts, and Julius's, and the group members' efforts had all failed? Well, maybe yes, maybe no. Perhaps it was not a fair comparison. After all, Julius had put in a total of about eight group sessions--twelve hours--while Vipassana demanded hundreds of hours--ten full days plus the time, and effort, to travel halfway around the world. What might have happened if Julius and the group had worked on her that many hours?

  Pam's growing cynicism interfered with meditation. The sweeping stopped.

  Where had it gone--that delicious, mellifluous, buzzing contentment? Each new day her meditative practice regressed. The Vipassana meditation progressed no farther than her scalp. Those tiny itches, previously so fleeting, persisted and grew more robust--itches evolved into pinpricks, then into a sustained burning that could not be meditated away.

  Even the early work in anapana-sati was undone. The dike of calmness built by breath meditation crumbled, and the surf of unruly thoughts, of her husband, John, or revenge and airplane crashes, came breaking through. Well, let them come. She saw Earl for what he was--an aging child, his large lips pursed and lunging for any nipple within range. And John--poor, effete, pusillanimous John, still unwilling to grasp that there can be no yes without a no. And Vijay, too, who chose to sacrifice life, novelty, adventure, friendship upon the altar of the great God, Equanimity. Use the right word for the whole bunch, Pam thought. Cowards. Moral cowards. None of them deserved her. Flush them away.

  Now there was a powerful image: all the men, John, Earl, Vijay, standing in a giant toilet bowl, their hands raised imploringly, their squeals for help barely audible over the roar of the flushing water! That was an image worth meditating upon.

  19

  _________________________

  Theflower

  replied:

  You

  fool! Do you imagine I

  blossom in order to be

  seen? I blossom for my

  own

  sake

  because

  it

  pleases me, and not for

  the sake of others. My

  joy consists in my being

  and my blossoming.

  _________________________

  Bonnie opened the next meeting with an apology. "Sorry to one and all about my exit last week. I shouldn't have done that but...I don't know...it was out of my control."

  "The devil made you do it." Tony smirked.

  "Funny. Funny, Tony. Okay, I know what you want. I chose to do it because I was pissed. That better?"

  Tony smiled and gave her the thumbs-up signal.

  In the gentle voice he always used when addressing any of the women in the group, Gill said to Bonnie, "Last week after you left, Julius suggested you might have felt pissed at being ignored here--that basically the group replayed your description of what routinely happened to you in your childhood."

  "Pretty accurate. Except I wasn't pissed. Hurt is a better term."

  "I know pissed," said Rebecca, "and you were good 'n' pissed at me."

  Bonnie's face clouded over as she turned to Rebecca. "Last week you said that Philip had clarified the reason you don't have girlfriends. But I don't buy that. Envy of your good looks is not the reason you don't have girlfriends or at least why you and I haven't become close; the real reason is that you're basically not interested in women--or at least you're not interested in me. Whenever you say something to me in the group, it is always to bring the discussion back to you."

  "I give you feedback about the way you handle--or, mostly, don't handle--

  anger, and then I get accused of being self-centered." Rebecca bristled. "Do you or don't you want feedback? Isn't that what this group is about?"

  "What I want is for you to give me feedback about me. Or about me and someone else. It's always about you, Rebecca--or you and me--and you're so attractive it always swings things back to you and away from me. I can't compete with you. But it's not only your fault; the others play into this, and I need to ask all of you a question."

  Bonnie swiveled her head looking briefly at each member in turn as she said, "I never really get your interest--why not?"

  The men in the room looked down. Bonnie didn't wait for an answer but continued: "And another thing, Rebecca, what I'm saying to you about girlfriends is not news to you. I can remember clear as a bell you and Pam having an identical go-around about this."

  Bonnie turned to Julius. "Speaking of Pam, I've been meaning to ask you, "Any news of her? When is she coming back? I miss her."

  "That was fast!" Julius said, "Bonnie, you are the master of the whirlwind segue! But for the moment I'm going to let you get away with it and answer your question about Pam, mainly because I was going to announce that she e-mailed me from Bombay. She's finished her meditation retreat and will be returning soon to the States. She should be here for the next meeting."

  Turning to Philip, Julius said, "You remember I mentioned Pam, our missing member, to you?"

  Philip replied with a brief nod.

  "And, you, Philip, are the master of the fast nod," said Tony. "It's amazing how much you stay in the middle of things without ever looking at anyone and without saying very much. Look at all this stuff going on around you. Bonnie and Rebecca squabbling over you. What are you feeling about all this? What are you feeling about the group?"

  When Philip did not immediately reply, Tony appeared uncomfortable. He looked around the group: "Shit, what is this? I feel like I'm breaking some kind of rule here, like farting in church. I'm just asking him the same kind of question everyone asks everyone else."

  Philip broke the short silence. "Fair enough. I require time to collect my thoughts. Here's what I was thinking. Bonnie and Rebecca have similar afflictions. Bonnie cannot tolerate being unpopular, whereas Rebecca cannot tolerate being no longer popular. Both are hostages to the caprice of what others think. In other words, happiness, for both of them, lies in the hands and heads of others. And for both the solution is the same: the more one has in oneself, the less one will want from others. "

  In the silence that followed one could almost hear sounds of cerebral mastication as the group attempted to digest Philip's words.

  "It doesn't appear that any of you are about to respond to Philip," said Julius, "so I want to address an error I think I made a couple of minutes ago.

  Bonnie, I shouldn't have gone along with your segue to Pam. I don't want a repeat of last week when your needs were not dealt with. A few minutes ago you were talking about why the group often overlooked you, and I thought you took a courageous step by asking everyone why you could not get their interest. But look what happened then: in the very next breath you switched to Pam's return to the group, and, presto, in a couple of minutes, your question to us faded into history."

  "I noticed that, too," said Stuart. "So, Bonnie, it's like you arrange for us to ignore you."

  "That's good feedback." Bonnie nodded her head. "Very good. I probably do that a lot. I'll do some thinking about that."

  Julius pressed on, "I appreciate the thanks, Bonnie, but I can't help feeling you're doing the same thing now. Aren't you saying, in effect, 'that's en
ough focus on me.' I should have a Bonnie bell here and ring it every time you switch away from yourself."

  "So what do I do?" Bonnie asked.

  "Give us the reason you had no right to request feedback from us," Julius suggested.

  "I guess I just don't feel important enough."

  "But is it okay for others here to make this kind of request?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "That means that others here are more important than you?"

  Bonnie nodded.

  "So, Bonnie, try this," Julius continued, "look around at each of the members here and answer this question: Who in this group is more important than you? And why. " Julius could hear himself purring. He was coasting in familiar waters. For the first time in a while, certainly since Philip had entered the group, he knew exactly what he was doing. He had done what the good group therapist should do: he had translated one of his patient's central issues into the here-and-now, where it could be explored firsthand. It was always more productive to focus on the here-and-now than to work on the patient's reconstructions of an event from the past or from current outside life.

  Swiveling her head to glance briefly at each person in the group, Bonnie said, "Everyone here is more important than I am--a lot more important." Her face was flushed, her breathing rapid. As much as she craved attention from others, it was obvious that she now wanted nothing more than invisibility.

  "Be specific, Bonnie," Julius urged. "Who is more important. Why? "

  Bonnie looked around, "Everybody here. You, Julius--look how you've helped everyone. Rebecca is drop-dead gorgeous, a successful lawyer, great kids.

  Gill is the CFO of a large hospital--as well as being a hunk. Stuart--well, he's a busy doctor, helps children, helps parents; he has success written all over him.

  Tony..." Bonnie paused for a moment.

  "Welllll? This'll be interesting." Tony, dressed as always in blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and sneakers splattered with paint stains, leaned back in his chair.

  "First of all, Tony, you're you--no posturing, no games, just pure honesty.

  And you bad-mouth your profession, but I know you're no ordinary carpenter; you're probably an artist at your work--I see that BMW roadster you scoot around in. And you're a hunk, too, I love you in a tight T-shirt. How's that for risk?" Bonnie looked around the group circle. "And, who else? Philip--you've got intelligence to burn, you know everything--a teacher, you're going to be a therapist, your words fascinate everyone. And Pam? Pam is awesome, a university professor, a free spirit; she compels attention; she's been everywhere, knows everyone, has read everything, stands up to anyone."

  "Reactions, anyone, to Bonnie's explanation of why she's less important than each of you?" Julius's eyes circled the group.

  "Her answer doesn't make sense to me," said Gill.

  "Can you tell her?" said Julius.

  "Sorry, what I mean is--and I don't want to offend--but Bonnie, your answer sounds regressive..."

  "Regressive?" Bonnie screwed her face up in puzzlement.

  "Well, what this group is about is that we're all just human beings trying to relate in a human way to one another, and that we check our roles, our degrees, our money, and our BMW roadsters at the door."

  "Amen," said Julius.

  "Amen," chimed in Tony, who added, "I'm with Gill, and, just for the record, I bought that roadster used and it's put me in hock for the next three years."

  "And Bonnie," Gill continued, "in your go-round what you did was focus exactly on those external things--professions, money, successful kids. None of those relate to why you are the least important person in this room. I consider you very important. You're a key member; you're engaged with all of us; you're warm, giving; you even offered me a place to sleep a couple of weeks ago when I didn't want to go home. You keep the group focused; you work hard here."

  Bonnie held her ground. "I'm a drag; my whole life has been about shame for my alcoholic parents, always lying about my family. Inviting you home, Gill, was a big event for me--I could never invite kids home, full of fear that my father would show up drunk. What's more, my ex-husband was a drunk, my daughter's a heroine addict..."

  "You're still evading the point, Bonnie," said Julius. "You talk of your past, your daughter, your ex, your family...but you, where are you ?"

  "I am these things, a composite of all these things; what else can I be? I'm a boring pudgy librarian, what I do is to catalog books...I...I don't know what you mean. I'm confused, I don't know where or who I am." Bonnie began to cry, pulled out a tissue, blew her nose loudly, closed her eyes, raised both hands and drew circles in the air, and, between the sobs, muttered, "This is enough for me; it's all I can take today."

  Julius shifted into another gear and addressed the entire group. "Let's take a look at what's happened the past several minutes. Who's got some feelings or observations?" Having succeeded in moving the group into the here-and-now, he advanced to the next step. In his view the work in therapy consisted of two phases: first interaction, often emotional, and second, understanding that interaction. That's the way therapy should proceed--an alternating sequence of evocation of emotions and then understanding. So he now attempted to switch the group into the second phase by saying, "Let's back up and take a dispassionate look at what's just transpired."

  Stuart was about to describe the sequence of events when Rebecca jumped in: "I think the important thing was Bonnie giving her reasons for feeling unimportant and then assuming we would all agree. That's when she became confused and cried and said she had had enough--I've seen her do that before."

  Tony said, "Yeah, I agree. Bonnie, you do get emotional when you get a lot of attention. Are you embarrassed by the spotlight?"

  Still sobbing, Bonnie said, "I should have been appreciative, but look what a mess I made of it. And look at how much better others would've used this time."

  "The other day," Julius said, "I had a conversation with a colleague about one of his patients. He said she had a habit of catching spears thrown at her and then stabbing herself with them. Maybe I'm being a little loose here, Bonnie, but that popped in mind when I saw how you take things and punish yourself with them."

  "I know you're all feeling impatient with me. I guess I still don't know how to use the group."

  "Well, you know what I'm going to say, Bonnie. Exactly who here was impatient? Look around the room." The group could absolutely count on Julius asking this question. He had never been known to let such a statement go by without honing in on it and asking for names.

  "Well, I think Rebecca wanted me to stop."

  "Whhhattt? Why I..."

  "Hold up a minute, Rebecca," Julius was being unusually directive today.

  "Bonnie, what exactly did you see? What cues did you pick up?"

  "About Rebecca? Well, she was silent. Didn't speak a word."

  "I can't win. I was doing my best to be quiet so you couldn't accuse me of taking attention from you. Can't you recognize a gift?"

  Bonnie was about to respond when Julius asked her to continue with her descriptions of who was bored.

  "Well, nothing I can spell out concretely. But you can just tell when people are bored. I bore myself. Philip wasn't looking at me, but then he never looks at anyone. I know the group was waiting to hear from Philip. What he said about popularity was far more interesting to the group than my whining."

  "Well, I wasn't bored with you," replied Tony, "and I didn't see anyone else bored either. And what Philip had to say was not more interesting; he stays so much in his head that I don't get real excited by his comments. I don't even remember them."

  "I do," said Stuart. "Tony, after you commented about how he was always in the center of things despite saying so little, he said that Bonnie and Rebecca had a very similar problem. They're overinvested in the opinions of others: Rebecca gets too inflated and Bonnie too deflated--it was something like that."

  "You're being a clicker again," said Tony, pantomiming holding a camera and taking pict
ures.

  "Right. Keep me honest. I know, I know--less observations, more feelings.

  Well, I agree that Philip is somehow central without having to say much. And it does feel like breaking the rules to confront Philip about anything."

  "That's an observation and an opinion, Stuart," said Julius. "Can you go to the feelings?"

  "Well, I guess I have some envy about Rebecca's interest in Philip. I felt that it was odd no one asked Philip how he felt about that--well, that's not quite a feeling, is it?"

  "Closer," said Julius. "First cousin to a feeling. Keep going."

  "I feel threatened by Philip. He's too smart. Also I feel ignored by him.

  And don't like being ignored."

  "Bingo, Stuart, now you're honing in," said Julius. "Any questions for Philip?" Julius labored to keep his tone soft and delicate. His job was to help the group include, not to threaten and exclude Philip by insisting he perform in a manner not yet possible. It was for that reason he called upon Stuart rather than the more confrontative Tony.

  "Sure, but it's hard to ask Philip questions."

  "He's right here, Stuart." Another fundamental Julius rule: never allow members to speak of one another in the third person.

  "Well, that's the issue. It's hard to talk to him..." Stuart turned to Philip, "I mean, Philip, it's hard to talk to you because you never look at me. Like right now. Why is that?"

  "I prefer to keep my own counsel," said Philip, still gazing toward the ceiling.

  Julius was poised to leap into the discussion if needed, but Stuart stayed patient.

  "I don't follow."

  "If you ask something of me, I want to search within myself, free of any distractions, in order to give you my best possible answer."

  "But your not looking at me makes me feel we're not in contact."

  "But my words must tell you otherwise."

  "How about walking and chewing gum?" interjected Tony.

  "Pardon?" Philip, puzzled, turned his head but not his eyes toward Tony.