One might ask, ‘what is psychotherapy?’
or ‘what is the point of psychotherapy?’ or ‘what are the outcomes of
psychotherapy?’ As a traditional psychotherapist I might answer, we don't have
‘points’ or ‘outcomes’… probably! I
might simply follow my training model and work within its general fixed historical
rules as opposed to looking at the unique context of particular individual’s specific
situation.
Let’s consider a piece of satire –
let’s call our pretend paper ‘Research for real people’ – to help explain why!
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, but not too far away, at the topmost
top of a Tower made of the most beautiful and ancient Ivory,(on the back of
many elephants before we knew better) there lived a very, very, very clever Professor
in a room right at the top.
So clever was he, in fact, with so much clever stuff filling his brain
that the words in his head had begun to grow like hair which he had to plait, because
the words were sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
very, verry looooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng.
The Professor’s strange hair could not even grow out of the windows of the
Tower as they had been filled in, with only one tiny hole left to look out of –
left so he could focus very hard on the poor people way down below. But at
least his strange hair kept the walls insulated from the light and sounds below
and protected him from the heat of summer and the cold winds in winter. In fact
sp protected was he in his own little world he didn’t even notice the changes
in the seasons! He felt very warm and safe, knowing how his every word – and indeed, though they were not only
very long there were also very many of them
– could protect him not only from the cold but almost anything at all!
He also used a bendy telescope, designed by his teacher before him, and
indeed the one or two before that - or at any rate, a very long time ago,
before people moved to towns and when they lived in the country in harmony with
the seasons and weather and the turning of the moon. He could use the telescope,
he told himself, to follow those poor people down below and watch them - for
there was nothing he liked more than to work out what they were doing and why
he supposed they were doing it! This tiny little window helped him to
concentrate on one person at a time directly below. And as he was such a clever
chap, he had another three windows too, one in each corner of his Tower – for,
needless to say, it wasn't round but square
– so he could follow the person all around the castle keep.
His servant, the faithful Acuk, brought food twice a day (though he didn't
always remember to eat it) and took away his various treatises, very clever
ones of course that no-one else could really understand as the words had become
sooooo verrrry loooonnnngggg as to the whys and wherefores of his learned
observations on the people down below. These treatises were published in
learned publications that his peers read and argued and fought about; for
indeed, each thought they had the answers to the world’s questions which they
too had written in their own ivory towers. These treatises in their turn enabled
the governors to control the poor people down below by labelling them and putting
them into boxes so they could be treated accordingly. And everyone knew that
that was what a treatise meant.
One day the clever man heard a muffled sound from below and felt a funny
sensation on his head as if the words were pulling on his scalp. 'Ow' he said;
'Whatever could that be?' But soon it stopped and he continued his watching and
writing, for that was all he knew.
Now much time had passed and he eventually noticed the land below had grown a
forest in some parts and the river had changed is path - and that as a result, it
was really quite hard to see the person he was studying so intently as well as
before. But still, he continued to write and still the world (those in power at
least) below were entranced by his clever messages and his theories as trained
by his teacher and his teacher and even his teacher before that. For he knew he
was right and that his entire world and all his life were given meaning via his righteous utterances on
the poor people below.
Then one evening when the moon was full and bright, the pulling sensation
happened again but this time it would not go away. He decided to go to look
through the window, for he expected all the poor people below should and indeed
really ought to be in their beds. But he saw nothing in the darkness through
his bendy telescope. Then suddenly there was shuffling and a muttering as if
someone was fighting their way through his plaited hair. Then to his shock, he
felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. Frantically and vaguely (if you can do both
together – and of course as a
professor, he could), he looked around but could see nothing through the
swathes of plaited words. Then, through the darkness, came a very squeaky
voice.
'Excuse me Professor, for that is who I heard you were. I have come to talk to
you and tell you about myself and my family. We live in the little village
Grassysward, way down below.’
The Professor peered through the hair and finally saw a very small person
peering back at him.
'There is no village down below', said the Professor. ‘I have been watching for
many eons and I know this to be so as my teacher and his before him and even
the one before him told me and they know best.’
'Oh but there is! And we all live in it. It is just round the corner, you can't
see it through those peepholes, but it is there. Do you also not know about
about the factory at the other side which is polluting our water and making our
old folks lose their minds? Or the sweet shop, so big now and so full of
goodies that many of our children are going mad with the ‘sweetie sickness’.
There is no room to play and run and many of us are sad.’
‘What?!’ said the Professor, ‘are you talking about, you very silly very small phenomenological
person, there are no such things. You cannot tell me anything, as I have much longer
and cleverer words than you and all those other poor people. I am here to help
you, for I know all there is to know about you from my years of observations
and the knowledge and teachings of my teacher and his before him and even one
before that, The Great Fedure, who has never had anything to do with these
invisible villages and factories. How dare you question me!!'
Now the Professor had surprised himself with his anger at allowing himself to
become upset by one of the poor people down below. So quickly he gathered his
decorum, which he kept of course in his back pocket and looking down from his
great height suggested that the poor person left how he had come, from one of
the word plaits which had wiggled out through a crack in the Ivory Tower and
allowed the poor person to climb up and dare to invade his sacred place of
learning.
'Before I go,' said the poor person, tugging his forelock (a key identification
of poor persons). ‘We know that your research is important to help make generalised
rules for us poor folk to live a good and dutiful life. For which, much thanks!
But when these rules and labels apply to an individual they cannot be true, for
we aren't in a bottle in a laboratory, no-one can possibly know all the
multitude of effects on one person –
those aspects that make that individual unique, mysterious and wonderful. This
must be the case and you don't acknowledge that nobody can possibly be
completely objective with regard to the observed, the human being. Think of the
new science of physics. Stop pretending that you can be completely objective and
accept that all research with regards to human beings is going to be, at best,
flawed.'
'How very dare you. What do you know of such things when I have never heard of
them?' said the Professor. 'You are making it all up. I am in power and you
must follow me and my words.'
'Sir Professor, please listen to me. Why don't you include us and ask us and
our friends and family what we want, then? Why do you stare at us through
windows and then say we are not good enough to even offer us your treatment. How
do you think that makes us feel? When you do give treatment we want it to work,
we don't want to be in therapy for years, we want to live our lives and to
be happy enough. Is that too much to ask? Why don't you take into account the
pollution and the unnatural diet and the fact that we don't exercise and our
society makes us too busy to spend time with those we love? Why do you have to
give us drugs so that the chemical factory which is polluting our brains can
get richer and richer?
‘You are so deeply protected in your word-hair that you can't even look
round the corners and see how we relate to each other. There's so much in the
world and we are not rats in a maze but humans and you really should be
a-mazed-at… how extraordinary we are. Humans are not all the bad things that
you are always looking at and putting us in your forensic boxes. I am going to
put you in one of your boxes - as someone who can only concentrate on one
thing. You don't like that do you, well neither do I nor my friends. Don't you
dare try and put us in your box until you have walked a mile or two in our
boots!'
At this, he handed some rather worn-out boots, more holes than leather, to the shocked
Professor.
'Get down now from this Tower and have the decency to ask us what we want from
your illustrious help, instead of putting your teacher from the past and his
teacher before him who told you what was right on a pedestal. I am sure they
helped people in the past, but when people remember what great teachers have
said, the life has gone out of it. The idea ceases to live and breathe anymore;
it has become a structure, fossilised even in time and space, with every
person following either watering down the initial idea until it becomes so
frozen and fixed that it batters people to death – or so watered down it is just a wishy washy nasty-tasting mess
of meaninglessness!
‘Our dear Abbess in the monastery sits and listens to us every day in the
village green, rain or shine, winter or summer. She knows about the plants and
helps us at birth and death and through all the stages of our lives. She has
asked me to come and would love to talk with you about how to help us live, not
be kept as victims and 'interesting' phenomena to observe. How would you like
that?'
At the mention of the Abbess, the Professor remembered his childhood and
sitting round the fire listening to tales of the abbess, before he had become
so very, very clever. He was then all of a sudden a little afraid, for he knew
what everyone knew that when you peer into the Abbess then she will surely peer
back into you…
So endeth this sorry tale. The next exciting episode is up to you!
At A Quiet Place, we are tuned to the
individual, their particular needs, wants and circumstance. We also look to
nature and value the simple and universal concerns of good food, clean and
healthy environment, physical exercise and human relationships. We are aware of
excellent theories like bonding being crucial to developing relationships and
families need to work together but we don’t make people feel even worse than
they do already. In order to achieve change we have our ACE theory
- Awareness-they
need to be aware of the specific behaviour
- Choices-they need
to know there are other choices and have support in trying them out
- Energy to make
those changes-stress chemistry often means inertia, people can be so exhausted
they find their only choice is to do nothing-they need process and support to
finding that energy. Otherwise feeling blamed equals anger which turned inwards
is depression-no energy there at all and a waste of time for those who profess
to help.
That’s as much ‘theory’ as we go in
for – and why our holistic psychotherapy is attractive and inclusive to those
who choose to enjoy it!
