I went to a psychologist once. I was emotionally desperate, and few around me could listen to hear my short story of desperation. Friends tried to listen. They cared. They wanted to help me feel better. I felt their desire to soften my dilemma, to be kind, to care. For some, to fix me.
I decided to pay, for the first time, to see a psychologist person named Alan Button. For eight weeks, one hour per week, I walked into his welcoming office, and for fifty minutes, I walked back and forth, never sitting, sharing whatever came to me, always moving on my feet.
I could sense his listening, really listening, seeing me through my eyes, holding space for me to express, explore, and discover. Eight weeks went by, and Alan never asked a question. Not one question Yet, he was totally present every moment. I could feel it, without knowing I was feeling it. I didn't use the word "present" then, I only sensed it.
On the eighth week, I spontaneously said, "Alan, I'm done." He smiled, put aside his note pad, walked over to
where I stood, embraced me with a warm full hug. I melted into his arms,
complete. No more words. Still embracing each other, he whispered, "Bruce, you’re the
most self actualized person I’ve ever met."
I didn't know what that meant, yet I sensed it was a compliment. His gift was to see into me, separate from my words and story. He was with me, an ally, their to be of service. His only agenda was to be completely present, and
trusting--- allowing me, like most people, to have the quiet
space and silence to self discover.
Thirty years later, having had no contact with each other, I called him. Now 85, he remembered our time together decades earlier. I told him the impact and influence he'd had in my life, and how I learned to deeply, authentically listen as he did, allowing others to explore without interference, or my need to diagnose or fix.
We were silent together. He cried. I learned he had written a book in the 1970's, The Authentic Child.
No comments:
Post a Comment