The Schopenhauer Cure (23 page)

"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 pictures.

"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.

"Like, how about doing both at the same time--looking at him
and
giving a good answer?"

"I prefer to search my own mind. Meeting the gaze of the other distracts me from searching for the answer the other might wish to hear."

Silence prevailed while Tony and the others mulled Philip's response.

Stuart then posed another question: "Well, let me ask you, Philip, all that discussion about Rebecca's preening for you--how did that make you feel?"

"You know," Rebecca's eyes showed fire, "I am
really
beginning to resent this, Stuart...it's as though Bonnie's fantasy has now passed into the books as gospel."

Stuart refused to be diverted. "Okay, okay. Delete that question. Philip, I'll ask you this: how did you feel about all the discussion about you the last meeting?"

"The discussion was of great interest, and I am unflaggingly attentive."

Philip looked at Stuart and continued, "But I have no emotional responses if that's your inquiry."

"None? That doesn't seem possible," replied Stuart.

"Before beginning the group I read Julius's book on group therapy and was well prepared for the events of these meetings. I expected certain things to happen: that I would be an object of curiosity, that some would welcome me and some not, that the established hierarchy of power would be unsettled by my entrance, that the women might look favorably upon me and the men unfavorably, that the more central members might resent my appearance while the less influential ones might be protective of me. Anticipating these things has resulted in my viewing the events in the group dispassionately."

Stuart, as Tony before him, was stunned by Philip's response and lapsed into silence as he digested Philip's words.

Julius said, "I've a bit of a dilemma..." He waited a moment. "On the one hand," he continued, "I feel it's important to follow up this discussion with Philip, but I'm also concerned about Rebecca. Where are you, Rebecca? You look distressed, and I know you've been trying to get in."

"I'm feeling a little bruised today and shut out, ignored. By Bonnie, by Stuart."

"Keep going."

"There's a lot of negative stuff coming my way--about being self-centered, not being interested in woman friends, about posturing for Philip. It stings. And I resent it."

"I know what that's like," said Julius. "I have those same knee-jerk reactions to criticism. But let me tell you what I've learned to do. The real trick is to think of feedback as a gift, but first you must decide whether it's accurate. The way I proceed is to check in with myself and ask whether it clicks with my own experience of myself. Does any part, even a tad of it, even five percent, ring true?

I try to recall if people in the past had given me this feedback before. I think about other people with whom I can check it out. I wonder if someone is honing in on one of my blind spots, something they see that I do not. Can you try this?"

"That's not easy, Julius. I feel tight about it." Rebecca clasped her hand to her sternum. "Right here."

"Give that tightness a voice. What's it saying?"

"It's saying, 'How will I look?' It's shame. It's being found out. This business about people noticing my playing with my hair. Makes me cringe, makes me want to say, 'It's none of your fucking business--it's my hair--I'll do what I want with it.'"

In his most teacherly voice Julius responded, "Years ago there was a therapist named Fritz Perls who started a school called gestalt therapy. You don't hear much about him nowadays, but, anyway, he did a lot of focusing on the body--you know, 'Look what your left hand is doing right now,' or 'I see you stroking your beard a lot.' He'd ask patients to exaggerate the movement: 'Keep making a tighter fist with your left hand,' or 'Keep stroking that beard more and more vigorously and stay aware of what gets evoked.'

"I always felt there was a lot to Perls's approach because so much of our unconscious is expressed through body movements that lie out of our own awareness. But I've never made much use of it in therapy. The reason? Exactly because of what's happening now, Rebecca. We often get defensive when others spot us doing things of which we are unaware. So I understand how uncomfortable you feel, but even so, can you stay with it and try to learn if there's something of value in the feedback?"

"In other words, you're saying 'be mature.' I'll try." Rebecca sat up straight, took a breath, and with a determined demeanor began, "First, it
is
true that I like attention and that I first came to therapy upset about my aging and about no longer being stared at by men. So I may have been preening for Philip but not consciously." She turned back to the group. "So, mea culpa. I like to be admired, I like to be loved and adored, I like love."

"Plato," Philip interjected, "observed that love is in the one who loves, not in the one who is loved."

"
Love is in the one who loves not in the one who is loved
--That's a great quote, Philip," Rebecca said, flashing a smile. "You see, that's what I like about you. Comments just like that. They open my eyes. I find you interesting.

Attractive too."

Rebecca turned to the group. "Does that mean I want to have an affair with him? Nope! The last affair I had just about did my marriage in, and I'm not shopping for trouble."

"So Philip," said Tony, "you have feelings about what Rebecca just said?"

"I said before that my goal in life is to will as little as possible and to know as much as possible. Love, passion, seduction--these are powerful sentiments, part of our hardwiring to perpetuate our species and, as Rebecca has just made clear, they may operate unconsciously. But, all in all, these activities serve to derail reason and interfere with my scholarly pursuits, and I want nothing to do with them."

"Every time I ask you something, you give me an answer that's hard to argue with. But you never answer my question," said Tony.

"I think he answered it," said Rebecca. "He made it clear that he does not want any emotional involvement, that he wants to stay free and clearheaded. I think Julius has made the same point--that's why there's a taboo against romantic involvement in the group."

"What taboo?" Tony addressed Julius. "I never heard that rule said out loud."

"I've never put it just like that. The only ground rule you heard from me about relationships outside of the meetings is that there be no secrets and that if there are any encounters whatsoever outside the group sessions, the members involved must bring it up in the group. If not, if you keep secrets, it almost always gums up the work of the group and sabotages your own therapy. That's my only rule about outside encounters. But, Rebecca, let's not lose the thread of what's going on between you and Bonnie. Check into your feelings about her."

"She's raised some heavy stuff. Is it true I don't relate to women? I want to say no. There's my sister--I'm close to her, sort of--and a couple of other women attorneys in my office, but, Bonnie, you're probably putting your finger on something--there's definitely more charge, more excitement for me in relating to men."

"I'm flashing on college," said Bonnie, "and how I didn't have many dates and how dismissed I felt when some girlfriend thought nothing of canceling out on me, at the last minute, if she got an invitation from a guy."

"Yeah, I probably would have done that," said Rebecca. "You're right--

men and dating, that was what it was all about. It made some sense then; now it doesn't."

Tony had been continuing to study Philip and approached him again.

"Philip, you know, you're like Rebecca in some ways. You preen, too, but you do it with snappy, deep-sounding slogans."

"I believe your point, "said Philip with eyes closed in deep concentration, "is that my motivation in voicing observations is not what it seems to be: that it is instead self-serving, a form of preening in which, if I understand you, I attempt to evoke Rebecca's and others' interest and admiration. Is that correct?"

Julius felt on edge. No matter what he did, the focus kept going back to Philip. At least three conflicting desires fought for his attention: first, to protect Philip against too much confrontation, second, to prevent Philip's impersonality from derailing the intimate discourse, and, third, to cheer Tony on in his efforts to knock Philip on his ass. But, all in all, he decided to stay on the sidelines for the time being because the group was handling the situation. In fact, something important had just happened: for the first time Philip was responding directly, even personally, to someone.

Tony nodded. "That's about what I meant, except that it may be more than just interest or admiration. Try seduction."

"Yes, that's a good correction. It's implied in your word
preening
and thus you suggest that my motivation parallels Rebecca's, that is, I wish to seduce her.

Well, that's a substantial and reasonable hypothesis. Let's see how to test it."

Silence. No one responded, but Philip did not appear to be waiting for a response. After a moment of reflection with his eyes closed he pronounced, "Perhaps it is best to follow Dr. Hertzfeld's procedure..."

"Call me Julius."

"Ah, yes. So, to follow Julius's procedure, I must first check whether Tony's hypothesis is consonant with my inner experience." Philip paused, shook his head. "I find no evidence for this. Many years ago I tore myself free from attachment to public opinion. I firmly believe that the happiest of men are those who seek for nothing so much as solitude. I speak of the divine Schopenhauer, of Nietzsche and Kant. Their point, and my point, is that the man of inner wealth wants nothing from the outside except the negative gift of undisturbed leisure which permits him to enjoy his wealth--that is, his intellectual faculties.

"In short, then, I conclude that my contributions do not stem from an attempt to seduce anyone or elevate myself in your eyes. Perhaps there are tatters of this desire left; I can only say I do not consciously experience it. I do recognize regret that I myself have only mastered the great thoughts, not contributed to them."

In his decades of leading therapy groups Julius had experienced many silences, but the silence that followed Philip's response was unlike any other. It was not the silence accompanying great emotion nor the silence signifying dependency, embarrassment, or bafflement. No, this silence was different, as though the group had stumbled upon a new species, a new life-form, perhaps a six-eyed salamander with feathered wings, and, with utmost caution and deliberateness, slowly circled it.