Friday, August 31, 2007
Encountering the Mentally Ill with Beginner’s Mind.
Leonard Mlodinow in his wonderful wee book, published this side of the Atlantic as Some Time with Feynman (Penguin, 2003) but which is called much more interestingly and provocatively Feynman’s Rainbow in the States, (Warner Books, 2003) states that this famous physicist “avoided learning new things from books and research papers; he was famous for always insisting on deriving new results for himself, on understanding them his way. To him, to stay young meant to retain a beginner’s outlook.” (op. cit., p. 79). What intrigued me with respect to this percipient comment was its linking in my mind with the Buddhist attitude called the “beginner’s mind.” [I will review two of Mlodinow’s books later in these pages, hopefully if time permits me between having to blunder from one crisis to another now that I’m back at school].
The first book of the great Zen Buddhist teacher Suzuki Roshi was entitled Zen Mind, Beginners' Mind which I recall reading some years back when a friend lent it to me. Beginner's mind is Zen practice in action. It is the mind that is somehow or other totally free of preconceptions and expectations and also free of judgements and prejudices. Beginner's mind is being able to explore and observe and see things as they are in themselves. This is rather like the existentialist approach to therapy and the mind – to see the person as they are in themselves here and now, which I described as best as I could in a previous post called Personality 4. We can think of beginner's mind as the mind that faces life like a small child, full of curiosity and wonder and amazement. It is the mind which has somehow learned to jettison all the blinkers (and sometimes blindfolds) that life has insisted on encumbering its pristine vision with.
Medicine, no different from any other science, likes to catalogue, differentiate and label. If this is all that medicine does without treating the patient in a holistic sense as a human being in all his or her dimensions it is nothing short of a scientism or a reductionism and not a real science in my view which would incorporate the humanity of the enterprise as both scientist and patient are in the first place both human. Psychiatric medicine can likewise be blinkered and blinded by hardened preconceptions. However, as a person who has been taking an antidepressant for some 8 or so years I will under no circumstances dismiss nonchalantly the wonderful strides made by modern psychiatry. However, a psychiatry which reduces itself to medication only and which has little time for psychotherapy in all its wonderful forms is not alone blinkered but blindfolded in my estimation. Thankfully, in my experience medication has been good for me, though I hasten to add that I have befitted much from my wide reading in psychiatry and psychology and in self-help books. I have also attended both counsellors and psychotherapists. As well as this, I have also changed my lifestyle. Consequently, healing is always to my mind a question of both/and and never either/or.
To return to my favourite physicist alluded to at the opening of this post, always be suspicious, if not fearful, of those who advocate a simple answer to life’s problems. The greatest knowledge we can possess, Socrates maintained, the only knowledge that matters a damn, is the awareness of our boundless, fathomless ignorance, something his greatest disciple and diligent biographer Plato could never quite grasp, for all his obvious, peacock-like spectacle of brilliance. Feynman always liked rejecting the easy answers similar to our friend Socrates. He was able to tolerate ambiguity and accept his own ignorance. “I can live with doubt and uncertainty,” he said on many occasions during his life and in many places in these letters. “I think it’s much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong.” (Don’t you have time to think? p. xi.) In 1963 he told a Senate audience that he felt a responsibility as a scientist to know “the great value of a satisfactory philosophy of ignorance.” (ibid., p. xi)
Surely then when approaching the most complex organ we possess, namely our brain which is the seat of our mind, an approach called “a beginner’s mind” is not alone useful but a necessary sine qua non – rather like learning Latin before reading Horace in the original. Medicine, I’ve read somewhere, divides the brain into three major medical specialties – neurology, brain surgery and psychiatry and each of the specialists will deal with different sections of this vital organ. We need these specialties to deal with the specific problems nature and living throw up. However, they are also dealing with a person who suffers of course. This is where the wonder of nature and the wonder of humanity come in. Hence, all good scholars are invariably good students who are humble before the mystery of being (I hasten to add that I am speaking metaphorically here to emphasise that all scholars worth their salt never think that they possess all of the truth on any one thing. Indeed, in my book the truth is never singular – it’s more a question of many truths being discovered bit by bit by bit!)
As Suzuki Roshi said in the prologue to Zen Mind Beginner's Mind, "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, in the expert's there are few." As an expert, you've already got it figured out, so you don't need to pay attention to what's happening. Surely a real scientist should be constantly observing and not stuck in the mud, or worse still swallowed up by the quicksand of his set opinions! Surely then when we encounter a so-called “mad” or “insane” person we should attempt to practise “beginner’s mind,” the mind that is somehow or other totally free of preconceptions and expectations and also free of judgements and prejudices. Is this possible for us? I think and feel and believe that it may be. With such an attitude the ontologically insecure will be less frightened, and possibly more likely to trust us and indeed to trust their doctors, psychiatrists and psychotherapists who are after all their helpers on the road to healing.
Above I have pasted another shot I took of some dead wood in Newbridge House in summer 2006.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The absence of posts for the last week was due to my being on holiday in Paris from Thursday until Sunday, and to my being back at school since Monday just gone. Posts from this on will occur regularly though not as frequently as I have preparation work to do for class, and also I am often too tired to write or even to think. So there will be a delay to my reflections on understanding what I mean or more correctly what I think is meant by personality. In the meantime I offer here another exercise in stream of consciousness, but one offered for all those lovely human beings in our world who may suffer like X from a mental illness. My own mental illness as I have pointed out in these pages is endogenous depression which thankfully has been successfully treated for the last 7 or 8 years. Hence, I subscribe to the wonderfully insightful phrase "wounded healer." Oftentimes these latter are the best healers of the "crooked timber of humanity" as Immanuel Kant so wonderfully described the human condition.
My wish for You (A Stream of Consciousness Exercise)
(For X, following a gap of four years. X, who shall remain anonymous, suffers from schizophrenia)
I wish I could write words that tapped into the roots of wisdom to give some hope to you in your lost-world your glasshouse-world your in-between-worlds-existence lost deep inside inside so deep that sometimes I find myself in my sleep dreaming of you there imprisoned in your own mind and I powerless to reach you so ill-defined so scattered so broken so disunited but I tried always to reach you yes I tried and that I suppose is all I could have done and the ways these words behave is all out of control like bold boys with a weak and foolish teacher who can give no direction at all at all because all is chaos in your world where things happen that we cannot see or even conceive but yes what’s real for you is real for you so real that I see the little frightened girl in you draw back in fright and freeze not knowing why you’re scared and petrified but that gnawing emptiness inside you is afraid to be filled to be smothered to be choked with anything other and even my love which once I thought so rich but now I know is only a projection of something within me that I counted too valuable for it is a cheap thing now in comparison is unable to reach you where you are on another bank beyond the rivers of reality flowing so fast between us and I’m left distraught that I’m powerless to help but that is what I have to accept and all those letters that I wrote thinking they might cheer were so in vain because I had not realised at all how sick you were how far removed you were how scattered all the little bits and pieces of the jigsaw of your very self without a pattern shapeless amorphous and without reaction like your smile-less face so serious so expressionless that once I sought to find what could make you smile oh how I longed to make you smile oh how I longed to win a smile a smile for me and especially even a small smile for you but that was hard for you to do and you so longed to be of help to others but you could not even be of help to yourself and at night you wept silent tears for all the things you couldn’t do or say for the person who you longed to be for even your tamest dreams you could not dare embrace and your bags were often packed and unpacked packed again unpacked again and again and on and on but sadly you could not go beyond that sorry symbol of stagnation how I once wished you could have been mine but now I know that such was never possible because you were never you or yours to give so sad the song of a lost soul lost lost lost forever in a cloudy nebulous in-between world I couldn’t reach, you were never you or yours to give so how could I receive and so I rest content that I tried once, twice, three times and so many others to go where you were but alas I could not reach such lostness I could not reach wherever you were and are and so I rest happy that at least I tried I wish you well so well my wish for you is to find your long lost self and embrace it as your best of friends your best of friends so gentle so you so found so possibly not lost some day some time found not lost found found found so singularly found found found found forever more found
In a way the above stream of consciousness exercise without the structure of punctuation reflects the disorder and disunity experienced by what Laing calls the ontologically insecure. From my own experience of depression, I could describe my disorientation as my brain being hijacked by thoughts which ran riot and so out of control that the thoughts were thinking me rather than my thinking the thoughts. Perhaps the experience of schizophrenia may be similar existentially for the sufferer.
Above I have placed a picture I took of the wood of a dead tree in Newbridge House summer 2006