Ирвин Ялом - The Schopenhauer Cure
Leibniz`s mottoCaritas sapientis meaning вЂwisdom and care.`”
Philip turned toward Tony. «Leibniz was a German philosopher of
the seventeenth century.»
«I`m finding this tedious and presumptuous,” said Pam.
«Under the guise of helping Julius, you»—she raised her voice an
octave—«Philip, I`m talking to you...” Philip, who had been
tranquilly staring upward, jerked upright and turned toward Pam.
«First, you pass out this sophomoric assignment and now try to
control the group by coyly withholding your interpretation of the
passage.»
«Here you go once again trying to de–ball Philip,” said Gill.
«For God sakes, Pam, he`s a professional counselor. You don`t
need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that he`ll try to contribute
to the group by drawing from his own expertise. Why begrudge
him everything?»
Pam opened her mouth to speak but closed it, seemingly at a
loss for words. She stared at Gill, who added: «You asked for
straight feedback, Pam. You got it. And no, I`ve not been drinking,
if that`s what you`re thinking. I`m in my fourteenth day of
sobriety—I`ve been meeting with Julius twice a week—he`s turned
on the heat, tightened the screws, and got me going to an AA
meeting every day, seven days a week, fourteen meetings in
fourteen days. I didn`t mention it last week because I wasn`t sure I
could stick it out.»
All the members, save Philip, reacted strongly with nods and
congratulations. Bonnie told him she was proud of him. Even Pam
managed a «good for you.» Tony said, «Maybe I should join you.»
He pointed to his bruised cheek. «My boozing leads to bruising.»
«Philip, how about you? You got a response to Gill?» asked
Julius.
Philip shook his head. «He`s already had a good bit of
support from others. He`s sober, speaking out, gaining strength.
Sometimes more support is less.»
«I like that motto of Leibnitz you cited,Caritas sapientis —
wisdom and care,” said Julius. «But I urge you not to forget
theвЂcaritas` part. If Gill deserves support,why should you always
be last in line? And, what`s more, you`ve got unique information:
who else but you can expressyour feelings about his coming to
your defense and confronting Pam on your behalf?»
«Well said,” responded Philip. «I have mixed feelings. I
liked Gill`s support, and at the same time I`m wary of liking it.
Rely on others to do battle for you, and your own musculature will
atrophy.»
«Well, I`m going to reveal more of my ignorance,” said
Tony, pointing to the handout. «This boat story, Philip—I really
don`t understand it. You told us last week you were going to give
Julius something comforting, and yet this story about a boat and
passengers—I mean, to put it bluntly, I don`t know what the fuck
gives here.»
«Don`t apologize,” said Bonnie. «I told you, Tony, that you
almost always speak for me—I`m as confused as you are about this
ship and gathering shells.»
«Me too,” said Stuart. «I don`t get it.»
«Let me help,” said Pam. «After all, interpreting literature is
how I earn a living. First step is to go from the concrete—that is,
the ship, the shells, the sheep, and so on—to the abstract. In other
words, ask yourself: what does this ship or voyage or harbor
represent?»
«I think the ship stands for death—or the journey toward
death,” said Stuart, glancing at his clipboard.
«Okay,” said Pam. «So, where do you go from there?»
«Seems to me,” Stuart replied, «the main point isdon`t pay
so much attention to details on shore that you`ll miss the boat`s
sailing. ”
«So,” said Tony, «if you get too caught up in shore stuff—
even having a wife and kids—then the boat might sail without
you—in other words, you might miss your death. Big deal—is that
such a catastrophe?»
«Yeah, yeah, you`re right, Tony,” said Rebecca, «I also
understood the boat to be death, but when you put it that way I see
it doesn`t make sense.»
«I don`t get it either,” said Gill, «but it doesn`t say you`ll
miss death; it says you`ll go to it trussed up like the sheep.»
«Whatever,” said Rebecca, «but this still doesn`t feel like
therapy.» She turned to Julius, «This is supposed to be for you. Do
you find any comfort in this?»
«I`ll repeat what I said last time to you last week, Philip.
What I get is the knowledge that you want to give me something to
ease my ordeal. And also that you shy away from doing that
directly. Instead, you choose a less personal approach. Sets a future
agenda, I think, for you to work on expressing your caring in a
more personal way.
«As for the content,” Julius continued, «I`m confused also,
but this is how I understand it: since the boat might sail at any
time—that is, since death could call us at any point—we should
avoid getting too attached to the things of the world. Perhaps it
warns us that deep attachments would make dying more painful. Is
this the message of consolation you`re trying to give me, Philip?»
«I think,” Pam interjected before Philip could answer, «that
it falls into place better if you think of the ship and the journey not
as representing death but what we might call the authentic life. In
other words, we live more authentically if we keep focused on the
fundamental fact of sheer being, the miracle of existence itself. If
we focus on «being,” then we won`t get so caught up in the
diversions of life, that is, the material objects on the island, that we
lose sight of existence itself.»
A brief silence. Heads turned toward Philip.
«Exactly,” responded Philip with a hint of enthusiasm in his
tone. «My view exactly. The idea is that one has to beware of
losing oneself in life`s distractions. Heidegger called it falling or
being absorbed in theeverydayness of life. Now, I know you can`t
abide Heidegger, Pam, but I don`t believe his misguided politics
should be permitted to deprive us of the gift of his philosophical
insights. So, to paraphrase Heidegger, falling intoeverydayness
results in one`s becoming unfree—like the sheep.
«Like Pam,” Philip continued, «I believe the parable warns
us against attachment and urges us to stay attuned to the miracle of
being—not to worry abouthow things are but to be in a state of
wondermentthat things are —that things exist at all.»
«Now I think I`m getting your meaning,” said Bonnie, «but
it`s cold, abstract. What comfort is there in that? For Julius, for
anyone?»
«For me, there is comfort in the idea that my death informs
my life.» Philip spoke with uncharacteristic fervor as he continued,
«There is comfort in the idea of not allowing my core being to be
devoured by trivialities, by insignificant successes or failures, by
what I possess, by concerns about popularity—who likes me, who
doesn`t. For me, there is comfort in the state of remaining free to
appreciate the miracle of being.»
«Your voice sounds energized,” said Stuart, «but I also think
this seems steely and bloodless. It`s cold consolation. Makes me
shiver.»
The members were puzzled. They sensed that Philip had
something of value to offer but, as usual, were confused by his
bizarre manner.
After a brief silence Tony asked Julius, «Does this work for
you? I mean in terms of offering you something. Does it help you
in some way?»
«It doesn`t work for me, Tony. Yet, as I`ve said,” he turned
toward Philip, «you`re reaching out to give me something that
works for you. I`m aware, too, this is the second time you`ve
offered me something I`ve not been able to make use of, and that
must be frustrating for you.»
Philip nodded but remained silent.
«A second time! I don`t recall another time,” said Pam. «Did
it happen when I was away?»
Several heads shook no. No one else remembered a first
time, and Pam asked Julius, «Are there blanks that need to filled in
here?»
«There`s old history between Philip and me,” said Julius. «A
lot of the puzzlement today could be removed by relating this
history. But I feel it`s up to you, Philip. When you`re ready.»
«I`m willing for all to be discussed,” said Philip. «You have
carte blanche.»
«No, what I mean is, it`s not for me to do that. To paraphrase
your words,it would be a richer exercise if you would discuss it
yourself. I think it`s your call and your responsibility.?»
Philip tilted his head upward, closed his eyes, and, using the
same tone and manner as when reciting a memorized passage,
began: «Twnety–five years ago I consulted Julius for what is now
termedsexual addiction. I was predatory, I was driven, I was
insatiable, I thought of little else. My whole being was caught up in
the pursuit of women—new women, always new women, because
once I bedded a woman I rapidly lost interest in her. It was as
though the epicenter of my existence was that moment of
ejaculating inside the woman. And once that happened I had a brief
respite from my compulsion, but soon—sometimes only hours
later—I felt the call to prowl again. Sometimes I had two or three
women in a day. I was desperate. I wanted to get my mind out of
the trough, to think about other things, to touch some of the great
minds of the past. I was educated in chemistry then, but I yearned
for real wisdom. I sought help, the best and most expensive
available, and met with Julius weekly, sometimes twice weekly,
for three years, without benefit.»
Philip paused. The group stirred. Julius asked, «How is this
going for you, Philip? Can you go farther, or is it enough for one
day?»
«I`m fine,” replied Philip.
«With your closed eyes it`s hard to read you,” said Bonnie.
«I`m wondering if you keep them closed because you fear
disapproval.»
«No, I close my eyes to look within and collect my thoughts.
And surely I`ve made it clear that only my own approval matters to
me.»
Again there settled onto the group that strange otherworldly
sense of Philip`s untouchability. Tony tried to dispel it by
whispering loudly, «Nice try, Bonnie.»
Without opening his eyes, Philip continued. «Not too long
after I gave up therapy with Julius, I inherited a fair sum of money
from the maturation of a trust account my father had set up for me.
The money enabled me to leave my profession as a chemist and
devote myself to reading all of Western philosophy—in part
because of my enduring interest in that field, but primarily because
I believed that somewhere in the collective wisdom of the world`s
great thinkers I would find a cure for my condition. I felt at home
in philosophy and soon realized that I had found my true calling. I
applied and was accepted in the philosophy doctoral program at
Columbia. It was at that time that Pam had the misfortune of
crossing my path.»
Philip, eyes still closed, paused and inhaled deeply. All eyes
were on him except for furtive glances toward Pam, who stared at
the floor.
«As time went by I chose to concentrate my attention on the
trinity of truly great philosophers: Plato, Kant, and Schopenhauer.
But, in the final analysis, it was only Schopenhauer who offered
me help. Not only were his words pure gold for me, but I sensed a
strong affinity with his person. As a rational being I cannot accept
the idea of reincarnation in its vulgar sense, but if Ihad lived before
it would have been as Arthur Schopenhauer. Simply knowing of
his existence has tempered the ache of my isolation.
«After reading and rereading his work for several years, I
found that I had overcome my sexual problems. By the time I
received my doctorate, my father`s bequest was exhausted and I
needed to earn a living. I taught at a few places around the country
and a few years ago moved back to San Francisco to accept a
position at Coastal University. Eventually I lost interest in teaching
because I never found students worthy of me or my subject, and
then, about three years ago, it occurred to me that, since
philosophy had healed me, I might be able to use philosophy to
heal others. I enrolled in and completed a counseling curriculum
and then began a small clinical practice. And that brings me to the
present.»
«Julius was useless to you,” said Pam, «yet you contacted
him again. Why?»
«I didn`t. He contacted me.»
Pam muttered, «Oh, yeah, right out of the blue Julius
contactedyou ?»
«No, no, Pam,” said Bonnie, «that part is true; Julius
confirmed it when you were away. I can`t fill you in on it because
I`ve never really understood it myself.»
«Right, let me come in here,” said Julius. «I`ll reconstruct it
as best I can. The first few days after receiving the bad news from
my doctor I was staggered and tried to find a way to come to terms
with having a lethal cancer. One evening I got into a very morose
mood as I thought about the meaning of my life. I got to thinking
about being destined to slip into nothingness and remaining there
forever. And that being so, then what difference did anyone or any
activity make?
«I can`t remember the whole chain of my morbid thinking,
but I knew I had to clutch some kind of meaning or I would drown
on dry land, then and there. As I surveyed my life, I realized that
Ihad experienced meaning—and that it always involved stepping
outside of myself, helping others to live and to fulfill themselves.
More clearly than ever before I realized the centrality of my work
as a therapist and then I thought for hours about those I had helped;
all my patients, old and new, paraded through my imagination.
«Many Iknew I had helped but had I had anenduring impact
on their lives? That was the question that plagued me. I think I told
the rest of group before Pam returned that I had to know the
answer to this question so badly I decided to contact some of my
old patients to find out whether I had truly made a difference.
Seems crazy, I know.
«Then, while browsing through the charts of my long–ago
patients, I also began thinking of those I had failed to help. What
had happened tothem ? I wondered. Could I have done more? And
then the thought, the wishful thought, arose that maybe some of
my failures were late bloomers, maybe they had gotten some
delayed benefit from our work together. Then my eye fell upon
Philip`s chart, and I remember saying to myself, вЂIf you want
failure,there is failure—there is someone youreally didn`t help—
