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The Schopenhauer Cure
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Текст книги "The Schopenhauer Cure"


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Психология


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«For several reasons. First Philip`s mode of giving me

comfort was very indirect—much like the way he just presented

the passage by Epictetus...”

«Julius,” said Tony, «I`m not being a smart ass, but wouldn`t

it be better to speak directly to Philip—and guess who I learned

this from?»

«Thanks, Tony—you are one hundred percent right.» Julius

turned to face Philip. «Your mode of offering me counsel in the

course of a lecture was off–putting—so indirect and so public. And

so unexpected because we had just spent an hour in private face–to–face talk in which you seemed utterly indifferent to my condition.

That was one thing. And the other was the actual content. I can`t

repeat the passage here—I don`t have your photographic

memory—but essentially it described a dying patriarch having an

epiphany in which the boundaries dissolved between himself and

others. As a result he was comforted by the unity of all life and the

idea that after death he would return to the life force whence he

came and hence retain his connectedness with all living things.

That about right?» Julius looked at Philip, who nodded.

«Well, as I tried to tell you before, Philip, that idea offers me

no comfort—zero. If my own consciousness is extinguished, then

it matters little to me that my life energy or my bodily molecules or

my DNA persists in deep space. And if connectivity is the quest,

then I`d rather do it in person, in the flesh. So»—he turned and

scanned the group and then faced Pam—«that was the first

consolation Philip offered, and the parable in your hands is the

second.»

After a brief silence Julius added, «I`m feeling I`ve been

doing too much talking today. How are you all responding to

what`s been happening so far?»

«I`m interested,” said Rebecca.

«Yeah,” said Bonnie.

«This is some pretty high–level stuff going on,” said Tony,

«but I`m staying with it.»

«I`m aware,” noted Stuart, «of ongoing tension here.»

«Tension between...?» asked Tony.

«Between Pam and Philip, of course.»

«And lots between Julius and Philip,” added Gill, again

taking up Philip`s cause. «I`m wondering, Philip, do you feel

listened to? Do you feel your contributions get the consideration

they merit?»

«It seems to me, that...that...well...” Philip was unusually

tentative but soon regained his characteristic fluency. «Isn`t it

precipitous to dismiss so quickly—”

«Who are you talking to?» asked Tony.

«Right,” answered Philip. «Julius, isn`t it precipitous to

dismiss so quickly a concept that has offered consolation to much

of humanity for millennia? It is Epictetus`s idea, and

Schopenhauer`s as well, that excessive attachment either to

material goods, to other individuals, or even attachment to the

concept of ‘I` is the major source of human suffering. And doesn`t

it follow that such suffering can be ameliorated by avoiding the

attachment? Indeed, these ideas are at the very heart of the

Buddha`s teaching as well.»

«That`s a good point, Philip, and I will take it to heart. What

I hear you saying is that you`re giving me good stuff which I

dismiss out of hand—and that leaves you feeling unvalued.

Right?»

«I said nothing about feeling unvalued.»

«Not out loud. I`m intuiting that—it would be such a human

response. I`ve a hunch if you will look inside you`ll find it there.»

«Pam, you`re rolling your eyes,” said Rebecca. «Is this talk

about attachment reminding you of your meditation retreat in

India? Julius, Philip—both of you missed the postgroup coffee

when Pam described her time at the ashram.»

«Yep, exactly,” said Pam. «I had a bellyful of talk about the

relinquishment of all attachments including the inane idea that we

can sever our attachment to our personal ego. I ended up with

strong feelings that it was all so life–negating. And that parable

Philip handed out—what`s the message? I mean, what kind of

voyage, what kind of life, is it if you are so focused on the

departure that you can`t enjoy your surroundings and can`t enjoy

other people? And that`s what I see in you, Philip.» Pam turned to

address him directly. «Your solution to your problems is a

pseudosolution; it`s no solution at all—it`s something else—it`s a

relinquishment of life. You`re not in life; you don`t really listen to

others, and when I hear you speak I don`t feel I`m listening to a

living, breathing person.»

«Pam,” Gill sprang to Philip`s defense, «talk about

listening—I`m not sureyou do much listening. Did you hear that he

was miserable years ago? That he had overwhelming problems and

impulses? That he did not respond tothree full years of therapy

with Julius? That he did what you just did last month—what any of

us would do—seek another method? That he finally got help from

a different approach—one which is no freakish New Age

pseudosolution? And that now he`s trying to offer something to

Julius by using the approach that helped him?»

The group was silenced by Gill`s outburst. After a few

moments Tony said, «Gill, you are something else today! Sticking

it to my girl Pam—I don`t like that, but, man, I sure do like the

way you`re talking here—hope it rubs off on your home life with

Rose.»

«Philip,” said Rebecca, «I want to apologize for being so

dismissive earlier today. I want to say that I`m changing my mind

about this...story by...by...Epihetus...”

«Epictetus,” said Philip in a softer tone.

«Epictetus, thanks.» Rebecca continued, «The more I think

about it, this whole thing about attachment throws a light on some

of my stuff. I think Iam suffering from excessive attachment—not

to things or possessions but to my looks. All my life I`ve had a free

pass because of a pretty face—got lots of affirmation—prom

queen, homecoming queen, beauty contests—and now that it`s

fading...”

«Fading?» said Bonnie. «Just pass the faded remnants on to

me.»

«Me, too, I`ll trade you anytime and throw in all my

jewelry...and kids, if I had any,” said Pam.

«I appreciate that. I really do. But it`s all relative.» Rebecca

went on, «Iam too attached. Iam my face, and now that it`s become

less, I feelI am less. I`m having a lot of trouble giving up my free

pass.»

«One of Schopenhauer`s formulations that helped me,” said

Philip, «was the idea that relative happiness stems from three

sources: what one is, what one has, and what one represents in the

eyes of others. He urges that we focus only on the first and do not

bank on the second and third—onhaving andour reputation —

because we have no control over those two; they can, and will, be

taken away from us—just as your inevitable aging is taking away

your beauty. In fact, ‘having` has a reverse factor, he said—what

we have often starts to have us.»

«Interesting, Philip. All three parts of that—what you are,

have, and stand for in the eyes of others—hits home for me. I`ve

lived too much of my life for that last part—what others will think

of me. Let me confess another secret: my magic perfume. I`ve

never talked to anyone about this, but ever since I can remember

I`ve daydreamed about manufacturing a perfume called Rebecca

made up of my essence which lingers indefinitely and causes

anyone who inhales it to think of my beauty.»

«Rebecca, you`re taking so many more risks now. I love it,”

said Pam.

«Me too,” said Stuart. «But let me tell you something that`s

never registered before. I like to look at you, but I`m realizing now

that your good looks are a barrier to seeing or knowingyou, maybe

even as much of a barrier as when a woman is ugly or misshapen.»

«Wow, that`s a shocker. Thanks, Stuart.»

«Rebecca, I want you to know,” said Julius, «that I too am

touched by your trusting us with your daydream about the

perfume. It points out what a vicious circle you`ve set up. You

confuse your beauty with your essence. And then what happens, as

Stuart points out, is that others do not relate to your essence but to

your beauty.»

«A vicious circle which leaves me doubting whether there`s

anything there. I`m still struck by your phrase the other week,

Julius, ‘the beautiful empty woman`—that`s me in spades.»

«Except the vicious circle may be breaking down,” said Gill.

«I know I`ve seen more of you—that is, something deeper, in the

last few weeks than in the whole previous year.»

«Yeah, me too,” agreed Tony, «and, I`m being serious now,

I want to say I`m really sorry about counting out money when you

told us about that time in Las Vegas—I acted like a real jerk.»

«Apology noted and accepted,” said Rebecca.

«You`ve gotten a lot of feedback today, Rebecca,” said

Julius. «How`re you feeling about it?»

«I feel great—it`s good. I feel people are treating me

differently.»

«It`s not us,” said Tony, «it`s you. Put real stuff in—get real

stuff out!»

«Put real stuff in—get real stuff out.I like that, Tony,” said

Rebecca. «Hey, you`re getting good at this therapy business;

maybeI should start counting out money. What are your fees?»

Tony smiled broadly. «Since I`m on a roll, let me give you

my guess, Julius, about why you went out of your way to work

with Philip again. Maybe when you first saw Philip years ago you

were closer to that state of mind you told us about last week—you

know, having strong sex desires for other women.»

Julius nodded. «Go on.»

«Well, here`s what I`m wondering: if you had issues similar

to Philip`s—not the same but something in that ballpark—could

that have gotten in the way of your therapy with him?»

Julius sat up straight in his chair. Philip, too, straightened

up. «You are sure catching my attention, Tony. Now I`m beginning

to remember why therapists are hesitant to reveal themselves—I

mean it doesn`t go away—what you reveal comes back to haunt

you again and again.»

«Sorry, Julius, I definitely didn`t mean to put you on the

spot.»

«No, no, it`s okay. I really mean that. I`m not complaining;

maybe I`m just stalling. Your observation is good—maybe it`stoo

good, too close, and I`m resisting a bit.» Julius paused and thought

a moment. «Okay, here`s what comes up for me: I remember that I

was surprised and dismayed that I hadn`t helped Philip. Ishould

have helped him. When we began, I would have taken a big bet

that I would have helped him a lot. I thought I had an inside track

on helping him. I was sure that my own personal experience would

grease the rails of therapy.»

«Maybe,” said Tony. «Maybe that`s why you invited Philip

into this group—give it another try, getting another chance.

Right?»

«You took the words out of my mouth,” said Julius. «I was

just going to say that. This may be the reason why a few months

ago when I was wondering about who I helped and who I didn`t, I

got so fixated on Philip. In fact, when Philip came to mind I began

to lose interest in contacting other patients.

«Hey, look at the time. I hate to bring this meeting to an end,

but we`ve got to stop. Good meeting—I know I`ve got a lot to

think about—Tony, you opened up some things for me. Thanks.»

«So,” said Tony with a grin, «am I excused from paying

today?»

«Blessed is he who gives,” said Julius. «But who knows?—

keep on like this and that day may come.»

After leaving the group room the members chattered on the outside

steps of Julius`s home before dispersing. Only Tony and Pam

headed toward the coffee shop.

Pam was fixated on Philip. She was not mollified by Philip`s

statement that she had been unlucky to have met him. Moreover,

she hated his compliment on her interpretation of the parable and

hated even more that she had enjoyed getting it. She worried that

the group was swinging over to Philip—away from her, away from

Julius.

Tony felt elated—he voted himself the MVP—the meeting`s

most valuable player; maybe he`d skip the bar scene tonight—try

to read one of the books Pam had given him.

Gill watched Pam and Tony walk down the street together.

He (and Philip of course) were the only ones Pam had not hugged

at the end of the meeting. Had he crossed her too much? Gill

turned his attention to tomorrow`s wine–tasting event—one of

Rose`s big nights. A group of Rose`s friends always got together at

this time of the year for a sampling of the year`s best wines. How

to negotiate that? Just swish the wine and spit it out? Pretty tough

to pull that off. Or come right out with the truth? He thought of his

AA sponsor: he knew how the conversation between them would

go:

Sponsor:Where`re your priorities? Skip the event, go to a

meeting.

Gill:But wine tasting is the reason these friends get together.

Sponsor:Is it? Suggest another activity.

Gill:Won`t work. They won`t do it.

Sponsor:Then get new friends.

Gill:Rose won`t like it.

Sponsor:So?

Rebecca said to herself:Real stuff in, real stuff out. Real stuff

in, real stuff out. Must remember that. She smiled when she

thought about Tony counting his money when she had talked about

her flirtation with whoredom. Secretly she had gotten a kick out of

that. Was it bad faith to accept an apology from him?

Bonnie, as always, hated to see the meeting come to an end.

She was alive those ninety minutes. The rest of her life seemed so

tepid. Why was that? Whymust librarians lead dull lives? Then she

thought about Philip`s statement about what you are, what you

have, and what you represent to others. Intriguing!

Stuart relished the meeting. He was entering full–bodied into

the group. He repeated to himself the words he had said to Rebecca

about how her looks served as a barrier to knowing her and that he

had recently seen something deeper than her skin. That was good.

That was good. And telling Philip that his cold kind of consolation

had made him shiver.That was being more than a camera. And

then there was the way he had pointed out the tension between

Pam and Philip. No, no, that was camera stuff.

On his walk home Philip struggled to avoid thinking of the

meeting, but the events were too heady to screen out. In a few

minutes he caved in and permitted his thoughts free rein. Old

Epictetus had caught their attention. He always does. Then he

imagined hands reaching out and faces turned toward him. Gill had

become his champion—but not to be taken seriously. Gill

wasn`tfor him but instead wasagainst Pam, trying to learn how to

defend himself against her, and Rose, and all other women.

Rebecca had liked what he had said. Her handsome face lingered

briefly in his mind. And then he thought of Tony—the tattoos, the

bruised cheek. He had never met anyone like him—a real

primitive, but a primitive who is beginning to comprehend a world

beyond everydayness. And Julius—was he losing his sharpness?

How could he defend attachment while acknowledging his

problems of overinvestment in Philip as a patient?

Philip felt jittery, uncomfortable in his skin. He sensed that

he was in danger of unraveling. Why had he told Pam that she was

unlucky to have met him? Is that why she had spoken his name so

often in the meeting—and demanded that he face her? His former

debased self was hovering like a ghost. He sensed its presence,

thirsting for life. Philip quieted his mind and slipped into a walking

meditation.

33

Suffering, Rage, Perseverance

_________________________

To the learned

men and

philosophers of

Europe: for

you, a windbag

like Fichte is

the equal of

Kant, the

greatest

thinker of all

time, and a

worthless

barefaced

charlatan like

Hegel is

considered to

be a profound

thinker. I have

therefore not

written for

you.

_________________________

If Arthur Schopenhauer were alive today, would he be a candidate

for psychotherapy? Absolutely! He was highly symptomatic. In

«About Me» he laments that nature endowed him with an anxious

disposition and a «suspiciousness, sensitiveness, vehemence, and

pride in a measure that is hardly compatible with the equanimity of

a philosopher.»

In graphic language he describes his symptoms.

Inherited from my father is the anxiety which I myself curse

and combat with all the force of my will.... As a young man I

was tormented by imaginary illnesses.... When I was studying

in Berlin I thought I was a consumptive.... I was haunted by

the fear of being pressed into military service.... From Naples I

was driven by the fear of smallpox and from Berlin by the fear

of cholera.... In Verona I was seized by the idea I had taken

poisoned snuff...in Manheim I was overcome by an

indescribable feeling of fear without any external cause.... For

years I was haunted by the fear of criminal proceedings.... If

there was a noise at night I jumped out of bed and seized sword

and pistols that I always had ready loaded.... I always have an

anxious concern that causes me to look for dangers where none

exist: it magnifies the tiniest vexation and makes association

with people most difficult for me.

Hoping to quell his suspiciousness and chronic fear, he

employed a host of precautions and rituals: he hid gold coins and

valuable interest–bearing coupons in old letters and other secret

places for emergency use, he filed personal notes under false

headings to confuse snoopers, he was fastidiously tidy, he

requested that he always be served by the same bank clerk, he

allowed no one to touch his statue of the Buddha.

His sexual drive was too strong for comfort, and, even as a

young man, he deplored being controlled by his animal passions.

At the age of thirty–six a mysterious course of illness confined him

to his room for an entire year. A physician and medical historian

suggested in 1906 that his illness had been syphilis, basing the

diagnosis only upon the nature of the medication prescribed,

coupled with Schopenhauer`s history of unusually great sexual

activity.

Arthur longed to be released from the grip of sexuality. He

savored his moments of serenity when he was able to observe the

world with calm in spite of the lust tormenting his corporeal self.

He compared sexual passion to the daylight which obscures the

stars. As he aged he welcomed the decline of sexual passion and

the accompanying tranquillity.

Since his deepest passion was his work, his strongest and

most persistent fear was that he should lose the financial means

enabling him to live the life of the intellect. Even into old age he

blessed the memory of his father, who had made such a life

possible, and he spent much time and energy guarding his money

and pondering his investments. Accordingly, he was alarmed by

any unrest threatening his investments and became

ultraconservative in his politics. The 1848 rebellion, which swept

over Germany as well as the rest of Europe, terrified him. When

soldiers entered his building to gain a vantage point from which to

fire on the rebellious populace in the street, he offered them his

opera glasses to increase the accuracy of their rifle fire. In his will,

twelve years later, he left almost his entire estate to a fund

established for the welfare of Prussian soldiers disabled fighting

that rebellion.

His anxiety–driven letters about business matters were often

laced with anger and threats. When the banker who handled the

Schopenhauer family money suffered a disastrous financial setback

and, to escape bankruptcy, offered all his investors only a small

fraction of their investment, Schopenhauer threatened him with

such draconian legal consequences that the banker returned to him

70 percent of his money while paying other investors (including

Schopenhauer`s mother and sister) an even smaller portion than

originally proposed. His abusive letters to his publisher eventually

resulted in a permanent rupture of their relationship. The publisher

wrote: «I shall not accept any letters from you which in their divine

rudeness and rusticity suggest a coachman rather than a

philosopher.... I only hope that my fears that by printing your

work I am printing only waste paper will not come true.»

Schopenhauer`s rage was legendary: rage at financiers who

handled his investments, at publishers who could not sell his

books, at the dolts who attempted to engage him in conversations,

at the bipeds who regarded themselves his equal, at those who

coughed at concerts, and at the press for ignoring him. But the real

rage, the white–hot rage whose vehemence still astounds us and

made Schopenhauer a pariah in his intellectual community was his

rage toward contemporary thinkers, particularly the two leading

lights of nineteenth–century philosophy: Fichte and Hegel.

In a book published twenty years after Hegel succumbed to

cholera during the Berlin epidemic, he referred to Hegel as «a

commonplace, inane, loathsome, repulsive, and ignorant charlatan,

who with unparalleled effrontery, compiled a system of crazy

nonsense that was trumpeted abroad as immortal wisdom by his

mercenary followers.»

Such intemperate outbursts about other philosophers cost

him heavily. In 1837 he was awarded first prize for an essay on the

freedom of the will in a competition sponsored by the Royal

Norwegian Society for Learning. Schopenhauer showed a childlike

delight in the prize (it was his very first honor) and greatly vexed

the Norwegian consul in Frankfurt by impatiently clamoring for

his medal. However, the very next year, his essay on the basis of

morality submitted to a competition sponsored by the Royal

Danish Society for Learning met a different fate. Though the

argument of his essay was excellent and though it was the only

essay submitted, the judges refused to award him the prize because

of his intemperate remarks about Hegel. The judges commented,

«We cannot pass over in silence the fact that several outstanding

philosophers of the modern age are referred to in so improper a

manner as to cause serious and just offense.»

Over the years many have agreed entirely with

Schopenhauer`s opinion that Hegel`s prose is unnecessarily

obfuscating. In fact, he is so difficult to read that an old joke

circulating around philosophy departments is that the most vexing

and awesome philosophical question is not «does life have

meaning?» or «what is consciousness?» but «who will teach Hegel

this year?» Still, the level, the vehemence of Schopenhauer`s rage

set him apart from all other critics.

The more his work was neglected, the shriller he became,

which, in turn, caused further neglect and, for many, made him an

object of mockery. Yet, despite his anxiety and loneliness,

Schopenhauer survived and continued to exhibit all the outward

signs of personal self–sufficiency. And he persevered in his work,

remaining a productive scholar until the end of his life. He never

lost faith in himself. He compared himself to a young oak tree who

looked as ordinary and unimportant as other plants. «But let him

alone: he will not die. Time will come and bring those who know

how to value him.» He predicted his genius would ultimately have

a great influence upon future generations of thinkers. And he was

right; all that he predicted has come to pass.


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