PhD Philosophy & Psychoanalysis

Tag: purpose

How did we get here?

It was some time ago now. Looking back, it feels like another life that someone else was living for me. But it wasn’t too long ago after all; almost yesterday in the greater insignificance of one lifetime. I was living out of a single room in the flatlet I was using as my practice. Trying desperately to juggle the needs of others and the expectations they had of me, with my own burning desires for myself. It was an impossible task with an inevitable ending. It was just a matter of time before I would have to make a move that would bring an end to my life as I had been knowing it and drastically change the lives of those around me. But it wasn’t that dramatic, really, it was just symbolic of the internal shifts that had already been made inside of me. You know those things that happen to you that you only realise in retrospect?

“Just come and live with me she said” one day. Giggling at her own seriousness. And so I did. And so we began. It was only going to be temporary. She had left commercial flying to go on a walk-about through India. I was unpacking my lost dreams, trying to find what I truly desired. Through truly wanting freedom for each other, we allowed one another to feel truly seen and believed in for the first time in our lives.

Soon we began, without even realising it, to imagine a life together. Or rather, increasingly, we could not imagine one without each other. A strange thing for two atheists with little value for societal norms to admit. Over the years, I had worked with every description of struggle. From bored housewives, or people who had lost the ability to speak, to those needing something as drastic as a change in their own physical gender. Few people were nearly as remarkable as Fiona. But, I was starting to realise that there was a common question underlying all therapeutic conversations – How do I go on? How can I carve out some sort of purpose to my everyday existence? It started to feel as if our days together, the relationship between Fiona and I, had become an embodiment of these very questions.

As we sat talking one evening about our pains, our longings, our histories and the new experiences we wanted for each other, I said “Don’t go to India, let’s bring India to you”. Somehow, through this, we found a shared dream. A dream I had once lost and then found in the remarkable human that Fiona is – The Centre for Purposeful Living.

We stumbled upon a house that would set the stage for our desires. And, since then, it has not only been our home but a philosophy café; a meditation studio; a yoga ashram; a tai-chi venue; a live music gig; and, even, a safe space for shibari (Japanese rope bondage).

The trouble with purpose is you don’t always choose it, it often chooses you. During lockdown the house became a homeschool and our retreat accommodation was repurposed to store food for those in need. All driven by Fiona and the abundance of her love. She could not help but respond, in some way, to the needs of the time.

The need for food is growing and if we can continue to secure funding, we hope that the #FoodFirst project will become a permanent community project. The world in lock-down has revealed many cracks in the fabric of our society. But as Leonard Cohen would say “that’s how the light gets in”.

Social distancing has simultaneously induced a compression of emotions for most of us. Those who have continued with therapy seem to have gone through some of the most intense transitions in their lives. We have had to work hard to make the most of the cracks that #lockdown has revealed.

We will be reopening the Centre for Purposeful Living as soon as it feels sensible to do so. But, for now, you can join Fiona and I in a Mindfulness Based Approach to Addiction and an intensive Vipassana Retreat (available soon, online). By November we hope that it will be safe to host our retreat at the Buddhist Retreat Centre, as planned: Buddhism, Existential Philosophy and Psychotherapy. If this is not possible, it will also be made available online.

In the meantime, in these uncertain times, I think it is important to demonstrate love. The days ahead of us will still take courage. They will require that we have conviction in our beliefs, in what truly matters. As Leonard would encourage “Love is the only engine of survival”.

Still(a)Life #24: Just a Few Words

A footnote on yesterday’s post:

The first book I ever tried to read, cover to cover, was Jonathan Livinsgton Seagul. I chose it because it had the narrowest spine I could find in the library. I can’t recall the actual story because the effort it took to read it didn’t leave much cognitive room for retention. I was in my final year of highschool, an overpriced boarding establishment. They had beautiful lawns and an impressive little chapel, but they didn’t notice I was Dyslexic. My teacher that year had the good sense to pay little attention to the assessment requirements and when it came to my oral, she said I should just talk on any topic of my choosing. She was interested in my ability to reason not to read. At the end of that year she wrote “Without words he strives to answer questions that have never been asked”.

I had already given up on becoming a psychologist a year prior to this. I approached my English teacher at the time, Mr Candotti, with my fantasies. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. We liked him and I knew he was studying psychology part-time. He told me “I don’t think you have the aptitude”. I managed to hide my utter deflation and I geared myself for a career in art. Something that didn’t require words. I was the only student in the school who could airbrush. Not very well, but I enjoyed it. I became a psychologist by accident.

I finished my master’s in psychology with academic colours. I didn’t tell anyone. I was meant to wear some fancy blazer on graduation, but I was well on my way to avoiding institutional norms by then. I was asked to leave my first internship. I had an argument with the professor in charge about how I didn’t believe that asking a child to repeat the 7 random numbers I just shared was of any relevance to predicting their future. “Either you do this the way it’s always been done” he insisted in his thick Afrikaans accent (slamming his fist so hard on the desk that his fringe uncombed itself from the bald spot it was covering over his head) “or you can leave.” I got up from the table and never returned.

There are advantages to writing a thesis under the passionate supervision of the head of department. I had a new internship the next day. My thesis was on language. On words and how they do the work of constructing reality. I was no longer without words. They had become my chief preoccupation. I still struggle with them. I still struggle to read. I wrestle with them, like worthy appointments, all day. I can’t describe the satisfaction it now gives me.

So as I was muddling with words this morning, I looked up and saw Joshua wrestling his own battle. He has such difficulty with words and yet he gets so much satisfaction out of finally managing to pin a few of them down. He just needs people in his corner, worrying less about fluency and more about the world that he is opening doors to. He looked so satisfied with himself. Thank you Fiona, you are opening windows to a whole universe for him!

“Books and doors are the same thing. You open them, and you go through into another world.” – Jeanette Winterson

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