PERIPATETIC PSYCHOTHERAPY

And now for something completely different ... Dear Reader, I'd appreciate your feedback on the following, a form which I would (should my professional order accept it) present to my clients the first time we meet. So what do you think? A crazy idea ... or would you go for it?
_____________________

"Therapy has typically been done with both/ all parties talking face to face while sitting together in an office. (This is of course not to mention the traditional psychoanalytic approach where the patient lies on a therapy coach and the analyst sits invisibly behind him or her). The present note is to present you with a further possibility: simply stated, that all or some sessions or parts of sessions consist of the two of us talking as we walk together outside the office rather than as we sit together in the office. (At the present time, due to issues of complexity, only individual therapy will be offered in this mode).

The two following issues make this approach somewhat controversial:

1) Confidentiality: the possibility of running into someone you might know. (We will discuss how you would feel about this and if and how you would want to introduce me to your acquaintance should this occur).
2) Boundaries: a less-clearly defined therapeutic space. Obviously, leaving the formal setting of the office behind might create a new dynamic which would be less traditional, structured or predictable. (We will talk about such issues if they occur).

An additional issue for me would be note-taking: in order to allow 5 minutes for this activity at the end of our time, walking sessions will be 45 rather than 50 minutes.

Why then consider this new approach to therapy? What are the potential benefits for you?

1) Physical activity component: in particular, in therapeutic situations involving depression or anxiety I have always discussed the importance of physical activity and movement in beginning to feel better - partly because of the benefits of increased serotonin production and partly because of an increased sense of self-efficacy, that is, your perceived ability to take charge and make concrete changes in your life. (Because of solid research on the psychological benefits of physical activity - cf. the Duke University study of 2000 - I have sometimes felt more like a coach than a psychologist!) In the walking approach to therapy, we would actually build in some physical activity even as we discuss other aspects of your situation.

2) Real-world generalization: a key challenge in therapy has always been the integration of therapeutic progress in the office into real life outside the office. Some of my family therapy colleagues tap into generalization effects by actually meeting with the family in their own home. I believe that walking outside the office might similarly encourage the generalization of therapeutic effects to other settings

3) Easier flow of discussion and ideas: personally, in discussing important matters in my own life with friends or confidants, I have always found it easier and more natural to talk as we walk side by side rather than as we sit face to face. It is my contention that some clients might find it easier and more 'natural' to talk about the journey of their lives while we are making a symbolic walking journey together.

[If I am to be honest, I might mention a personal benefit to myself of this approach as well: therapy is a decidedly sedentary type of work, and the occasional walk will change the pace for me as well and potentially increase my own energy level! (cf. Montreal Gazette article of Thurs. Aug. 18, "Watching too much TV could take years off your life: Prolonged sitting is just as detrimental for mortality as obesity or inactivity")]

The beginning and ending point of walking sessions will be my office. Walks will occur within the 45 minutes of therapy, either for the entire time or for part of the time. Payment will occur in my office, either before we leave or when we return from walking. Walks will be as leisurely or as rigorous as you choose, on the quieter back streets near my office or even on the trails going up Mount Royal.

Even if you should decide to try this approach, no pressure will ever be put on you to walk, and you will decide before each session whether you would prefer to walk or to remain seated in my office for that session. The choice will be yours.

I declare that I have read this document and understand its content".                                ______________________

. . . AND MY HEART SOARS

“Joy is the serious business of heaven, just as play is the serious business of childhood”. ~ C.S. Lewis

________________

In his 1988 speech as incoming president of the American Psychological Association (APA), Martin Seligman made a riveting statement (which I now paraphrase): “On the scale of happiness, we psychologists have given ourselves the job of helping people move from - 5 to 0 . . . and we’re content with that. But what about 0 to +5? How do we get beyond mental illness, how do we help people find ways to increase their happiness?”. And so began the exploration of a new frontier which has come to be known as Positive Psychology. Seligman, who had already become famous for his study of depression (“learned helplessness”) eventually wrote books entitled Learned Optimism (1998) and Authentic Happiness (2002), reflecting his new orientation.


In the second of these books, Seligman documents an exercise which has been empirically proven to increase one’s global level of happiness.  This exercise, much like a gym workout, must be practiced at least several times a week in order to bring about lasting change.  Would you like to know what it is?  Would you like to be happier?


Well then, just send $29.99 to the following address. . . lol, just kidding!  Here it is; but I warn you, this exercise may seem too simple to really make a difference.  (Maybe you’d take it more seriously if you did have to pay for it?) Ready? OK, here goes:


Tonight, before you go to bed, think back on the day you have just completed . . . and identify your three favourite moments.  


Umm, basically, that’s about it. If you like, you can write down your good moments—which could be anything from eating a really great cinnamon bun to receiving a sincere compliment to hearing a bird sing while you were waiting for a bus—in a “Gratitude Journal” . . . but the main point is to simply identify and acknowledge them. This exercise, sometimes called “Three Blessings”, will quite likely increase your overall level of happiness. How? By causing you to focus on what is right about your day, to look for positive exceptions (if you are going through a difficult time), to cultivate gratitude and appreciation for your life, to enable you to fall asleep with the expectation of good things for the day ahead.  When I read the research on this exercise several years ago, I decided to put it into practice with my young sons.  We began to do it together every night at bedtime. I knew it was beginning to ‘take’ when my son Zac, who was about four at the time, told me one day when we were doing something fun, “Daddy, this is going to be my favourite thing.”


So, what gives you joy?


I love looking for flashes of joy in the midst of my days.  Often these come through the little moments that I might easily pass by in the often-frantic business of living: the laughter of one of my sons . . . a good breakfast shared with a friend . . . gliding my canoe through the mist of a mirror-still wilderness lake early in the morning (ahhh!) . . . an autumn run through dried leaves on Mount Royal . . . unexpectedly hearing “Here Comes The Sun” played in the métro by an itinerant guitarist . . . and I would invite you to make your own list. If you like, leave a comment with one of your three good moments. 


I close this reflection with a poem I love by Chief Dan George, "My Heart Soars”:

The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me. 

The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea,
speaks to me. 

The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dewdrop on the flower,
speaks to me. 

The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
and the life that never goes away,
They speak to me. 

And my heart soars. 

“SLOW DOWN, MON!"

Life goes fast. Some twenty years ago, a friend and I who were working in Toronto decided we wanted a change of pace. It was February, we were stressed out, and we badly needed some sun. We asked a travel agent to make us her best offer, and a few days later, found ourselves sitting in a Holiday Inn dining room in Montego Bay. It seemed surreal that only hours earlier we had been plodding though a Canadian winter, and now we were in paradise. It soon became clear, however, that it would take a while for us to acclimatize ourselves to the Jamaican tempo. My friend dropped a fork and beckoned impatiently to a waiter, “Excuse me, could I have a new fork?” The waiter’s bemused answer, accompanied by a calming gesture, became our mantra for the rest of our stay: “Slow down, mon!” As we gradually did manage to slow down, we came to appreciate a very different pace of life; when I would ask when the next bus was scheduled to arrive, the answer would invariably be, “Soon come!” No hurry, no worry. It turned out that a less sped-up approach to life, more focus on relaxation than on efficiency, was exactly what the doctor ordered. My then-girlfriend who came to pick us up in the Toronto airport a week later found two happy and decidedly unwound guys wearing tropical shirts and giggling like schoolgirls, and she wondered if we had perhaps partaken a bit excessively of Jamaica’s famous herbal offerings.

Life has not shifted out of the fast lane since. In the first decade of the 21st century, the almost-unlimited leisure predicted back in the 1960’s somehow never did materialize. If life seemed fast before . . . now it is even faster.  We are connected 24/7, and we find ourselves struggling to keep on top of our email, not to mention our Facebook. Our iPhones and BlackBerrys make it possible to react almost immediately to client requests as well as family crises, and the old paradigm of Work/Personal Life Balance seems almost quaint as we negotiate the brave new world of Work/Personal Life Blend.

And the Internet, an amazing and magical tool, increasingly inhabits our thinking and provides us with the means of even greater efficiency, not just in our work but also in in our relationships. In 2000, only 46% of Americans were online; now the figure is 80%. In 2004, people began to speak of the Web 2.0, or “Social Media”: this medium was no longer simply an efficient method of finding information; it became a way of life, a way of making our relationships more efficient. It is astounding how our lives have changed, bit by bit, under the influence of such social media as Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and YouTube. Now there are 200 million blogs we can follow . . . 2 billion YouTube viewers, watching 30 billion videos each month. . . as of last July, 20 billion Tweets . . . and 550 million Facebook members, now citizens of the third largest ‘country’ in the world. And everything is just getting faster and faster.

In 2010, Nicolas Carr published The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to our Brains, an expansion of his thought-provoking 2008 essay “Is Google Making Us Stupid?" . Carr’s premise is that the Internet may actually be changing how we think—that our neural networks are being pruned towards quicker but shallower thinking, like sampling from a smorgasbord rather than sitting down to enjoy a gourmet meal. This new way of thinking may be diminishing our capacity for higher-order cognitive processes: abstract thinking and metaphor, mindfulness, reflection, inductive problem-solving, critical thinking, imagination . . . and my particular concern, our capacity for empathy (part of which is predicated on imaginatively being able to put ourselves in another’s position, and caring about that other feels).

We are beginning to react against the superhuman speed of life, in several domains; in a society of fast food, a new trend becoming popular is that of “slow food": taking a whole day to plan, prepare, and savour a meal with friends who are not in a hurry. Courses on “Mindfulness”, a basic model of Buddhist meditation, are being presented to leaders of industry. And in a world of ever more frenzied multitasking, I recently read on Mashable about a radical new approach to time management: “Single-Tasking", doing just one thing at a time!

But in this sped-up, plugged-in world, just how do we stay human? In fact, how can we become even more human, more humane, in our inner lives and in our dealings with each other? I would like to offer a few suggestions which I believe might help:

• Slow down! Find activities —like eating, walking, running, or talking—that you don’t have to rush through, activities you can savour like fine wine.

• Read a book. Fine, read on your Kindle or your iPad if you must, but read a book from beginning to end, don’t just leapfrog from hyperlink to hyperlink.

• Exercise your imagination. “Imagination is more important than knowledge” was not spoken by a lazy thinker but by Albert Einstein. And imagination still differentiates us from the computer. Make up stories with your kids, pretend, daydream.

• Practice inductive thought. Be mindful, meditate, pay attention as you go through your day. Before going to sleep each night, ask yourself, “What was my favourite moment today?”

• Get into nature. My absolute favourite way of slowing down is wilderness canoeing. It has a way of reconnecting me to what is essential.

• Unplug—from the Internet, from your cellphone, from your laptop, from technology, even from your wristwatch sometime (if you still hang on to that 20th-century artifact!) When my family leaves on a canoe trip into Algonquin Park, we ceremoniously stow our watches in the glove compartment and begin a “timeless” week. It’s a refreshing way to go through a day “time-free”. (And if you miss a movie, there’s always Netflix, lol!)

• Reconnect with loved ones in real, face-to-face time, and cultivate the decidedly slow art of listening.

• Keep a journal: “Reading makes a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man”. (Francis Bacon)

• Play a sport or practice a physical activity like gardening or knitting or yoga or illuminating manuscripts.

I personally love the art of therapy: my office is a place where I can turn off my cellphone, disconnect from technology, tune in to the human story, and connect with another person at a deep and personal level. It’s a rich way to spend my days, and I think it is helping me become more and more human.

Do you have other activities, strategies or tricks that work for you, that help you slow down and help you preserve your humanity? I’d love to hear them. I’d also like any ideas about what kinds of articles might be interesting for me to write. (I’d like to journal more this year—and don’t worry, I’ll make future articles shorter!)

A Place Where Everyone Knows Your Name

I recently had the privilege and pleasure of running my second Boston Marathon. (Not that I'm bragging. . . koff! koff!). The crowds in Boston are the best thing about this storied marathon, in my opinion; on Patriot's Day everyone has the day off, and whole families make it an annual tradition to line the course and cheer on the runners, while also enjoying a well-lubricated family barbecue and watching the Red Sox game on TV. Grandparents, young kids, teenagers, and of course, the Wellesley College girls (renowned for their enthusiasm!)—they all line the course, yelling out encouragement and hoping for a high five or a hand-slap (or for a kiss, in the case of the aforementioned Wellesley spectators) from a passing runner.

I noticed while running the marathon last year that the crowd loved calling out what was written on runners' shirts, whether a name, a place or a slogan, so I decided this year that I would enable them to give me more personalized encouragement. The night before the race (April 19, 2010), after having indulged myself in my traditional agonizing over what to wear ("Does this black sleeveless singlet make me look fat?"), I took a roll of yellow masking tape and began carefully spelling out my name on the front of the chosen shirt. I decided that "Darrell" would be almost illegible from the sidelines (and would take more tape than I had), so I settled on "DARE" in capital letters: a sometime nickname which could also serve as a word of encouragment to my fellow-runners. So the morning dawned, two F-15 jets flew over the starting line, the gun released us, and I plunged into the 26.2-mile race as DARE. . .

The first half of the race was amazing, even beyond what I had anticipated! Groups of half-drunk college boys chanted, "DARE! DARE! DARE!". . . little children called out my name. . . I felt like a celebrity, like a conquering hero, with lots of shouts from both sides of the road of "Go, Dare!" and "I DARE you to finish this race!" Even once, a big black woman who was serving as a volunteer and handing out cups of Gatorade at around the 10-mile mark, yelled out, "I DARE you to love me!", which did wonders for my flagging legs as well as for my ego. And I won't even mention the girls of the Tunnel of Screams in front of Wellesley College! (As the Nike banner warned us before reaching the college, which is the half-way mark, "Brace Your Ears!”) 


But my fame and glory was not to last: as my sweat began to pour, the taped letters on my shirt began to lose their stickiness. After hearing "GO DARF!" a few times from the spectators, I realized that my "E" had lost part of itself. And eventually, as all the letters began to sag, I had to scoop them off my shirt and continue the race, nameless. And what a sad difference it made: all at once, I was anonymous. No one called out my name. I felt abandoned by my public, marginalized, almost invisible amidst the throng of runners. All around me people were being noticed, encouraged, even cajoled by name not to quit as we struggled up "Heartbreak Hill": but I was forgotten. The last few miles were difficult; I had to walk at a few points, and the pain increased. I really could have used that personalized encouragement, but I had instead to rely on the voices inside my own head.


What I have come to better understand since running the Boston Marathon is this: I really need encouragement! Encouragement enables me to keep going. And that encouragement needs to be personal, given by those who care about me—who know me, or at the very least, who know my name. I imagine we all need someplace to go where everyone knows our name, as the theme song for "Cheers!" puts it (a show about the community life of a Boston pub). When the going gets tough, when we feel like giving up, a voice of cheer can make a huge difference. It can literally en-courage us, give us courage within. It can keep us from quitting.


Yes, the Boston crowd was amazing that day. Commentators estimated that upwards of 500,000 people lined the marathon course, providing us with hope, humour and even physical support all along the 26.2 miles of our journey. I clearly remember in the haze of the last few miles one woman who reached out her arms to all of us and shouted, with extreme earnestness, "You're all my heroes!”


She may not have known it, but she was ours as well.

Ch-ch-ch-changes. . ..

"I must be willing to give up what I am in order to become what I will be." (Einstein)

Ouch! Giving up what I am is hard. Letting go is hard. Change is hard. Well, let me rephrase that a bit: often the changes that come with personal renewal are enjoyable, but I don't like changing. Changing is painful and scary; I am giving up the familiar for the unknown. I am stepping out of my comfort zone into something uncomfortable and unpredictable.

I wonder: what does the caterpillar feel like when it spins its coccoon, when its body turns into mush in the process of becoming a butterfly? What does the snake feel like when its old familiar skin splits down the back and begins slipping off? What does the baby in the very act of birth feel like as it comes down the birth canal, leaving a quiet, dark, symbiotically-secure life forever behind it?

How do I feel?

As I confront the issues of midlife, I feel kind of like I am in the throes of being re-born. Like I am "turning into mush" in the process of becoming, I don't know what, something else. Like I am shedding my skin. I find this moment in my life kind of scary. What I know about change helps me understand that I must first let go of one trapeze before taking hold of a new one, that I must go through "endings", then enter the "neutral zone" of uncertainly before embracing "new beginnings" (William Bridges model of transition) -- but it's scary just the same. My work in therapy is all about "the business of change", but that doesn't mean that I do not myself have to go through the dark corridor into the unknown. I know about change, but I am still affected by it--and scared by it. I suppose my fear is partly because I don't know if the changes I am experiencing and contemplating are leading me in the right direction; if I will look back in a year and feel that I've taken the right path, or if I'll feel that I've wandered off the path, gotten even more lost, in the middle of my life, in that "dark woods" in which I now find myself.

In my case study of one, I am working with a few tools and strategies to help me as I change. I find it helpful to keep a journal to chart out my course and mop up the blood of my more difficult emotions. (A paper journal, that is: I'm not yet quite comfortable sharing everything within me with the blogosphere). I find it helpful to share what's going on inside me with trusted friends, to remind myself of just what in my life is not changing: what remains solid and predictable. I hope that I can take this light with me -- the love of my closest friends and family, the depths of my self-knowledge, my capacity for gratitude and appreciation, my compassion, my insight, my confidence in my abilities to learn and adapt -- into the darkness of the unknown. . .

"The sun is but a morning star. . ."

Le jeu : le travail sérieux de l'enfance

"Les jeux des enfants ne sont pas des jeux,
et il les faut juger en eux comme leurs plus sérieuses actions."
~ De Montaigne

Jouer, pour un enfant, est absolument essentiel pour un développement sain et normal. Un enfant qui ne sait pas jouer (et parfois on doit, en effet, apprendre à un enfant à jouer, car cette capacité n’est pas tout à fait innée) est mal équipé pour répondre aux exigences de sa vie quotidienne et pour surmonter à ses anxiétés et à ses insécurités. Examinons brièvement le concept du jeu afin de mieux apprécier le sérieux de ce « travail » dans la vie d’un enfant.

Quels sont les stades développementaux du jeu?

1 – 2 ans           jeu solitaire
Enfant joue seul, et on voit souvent l’apparition de l’ « objet transitionnel », une doudou qui symbolise la présence de la mère et qui devient source de réconfort


2 – 4 ans           jeu en parallèle
Enfant remarque et imite le jeu de ses amis sans trop interagir avec eux.

4 – 5 ans           jeu associatif
Enfant commence à jouer « avec » d’autres enfants, et ils font tous à peu près la même chose. (On voit souvent l’apparition de l’ « ami imaginaire », surtout chez les enfants d’une intelligence vive.) 

5 – 6 ans           jeu coopératif
Jeux de fantaisie avec plusieurs amis ou chacun assume un rôle différent.

6 ans +             groupe de jeu
Quatre ou cinq enfants jouent ensemble et le monde réel prend de plus en plus de place dans leurs jeux.





À quoi ça sert, de jouer?

L’enfant joue pour relaxer—pour gérer son stress, ses frustrations et son anxiété (dans un monde sur lequel il a si peu de contrôle!) et pour décharger le surplus de son énergie.

L’enfant joue pour combler ses propres besoins affectifs. Par exemple, l’enfant de cinq ans peut jouer à redevenir « bébé » afin de rechercher la sécurité et la simplicité de cette époque et pour avoir de la part des parents plus d’attention et de caresses.

L’enfant joue pour mieux comprendre un processus ou un événement qui lui arrive, pour se préparer pour ses propres défis, et pour explorer ses possibilités futures, dans une sorte de remue manège. Par exemple, l’enfant qui va subir une opération peut comprendre les étapes de l’opération et gérer son anxiété en jouant à l’opération avec un de ses poupées ou ses animaux en peluche.

Jouer permet à l’enfant d’explorer ses émotions face aux événements actuelles ou potentielles dans sa vie. Jouer lui permet aussi d’exprimer ses pensées et ses émotions face à ces événements, dans une espèce de catharsis, afin de diminuer ses peurs et ses anxiétés. En effet, jouer l’aide à assimiler les expériences qui sont trop grand pour « digérer » d’un coup en les « mâchant » un petit boucher à la fois. (On peut considérer l’exemple de l’enfant traumatisé qui reproduit à répétition par moyen de ses jouets des événements traumatisants dans un contexte sécuritaire).

L’enfant joue pour se sentir compétent, à la hauteur, puissant—ce qui augmente son estime de lui-même.

L’enfant joue pour surmonter l’ennui d’un environnement qui n’est pas stimulant. Il peut aussi jouer afin de compenser pour un échec ou pour une lacune—pour faire « comme si », pour utiliser la fantaisie afin de refaire les événements du passé comme il aurait voulu qu’ils soient arrivés.

Jouer sert à l’enfant comme préparation pour la vie adulte. Les enfants aiment « faire semblant » d’être des adultes, et dans leurs jeux de rôles on peut voir leurs efforts de mieux comprendre les rôles de père, de mère, et de travailleur (pompier, médecin, astronaute. . .) et de commencer à s’insérer dans le monde adulte.

Comment définir le jeu?

Définir le mot « jouer » peut sembler facile, mais sous réflexion, ce n’est pas si évident que ça ; on va dire qu’il s’agit simplement de s’amuser, mais souvent il y a beaucoup d’effort, d’intensité, de stress et même de douleur dans le jeu. En 1950, Johan Huizinga a étudié plusieurs cultures afin d’arriver à une compréhension du jeu. Selon ses recherches, « le composant essentiel du jeu, c’est ce qu’il ne produit rien dans le monde réel. » Bien sûr qu’on peut parler des « buts » dans un jeu, mais ces buts ne représentent rien dans la vie réelle. Si jamais le but devient toute la raison pour jouer, le jeu devient une tâche et donc du travail —et ce n’est plus ce qu’on entend par jouer. Huizinga a aussi découvert que le jeu exige son propre espace et temps séparés en dehors du monde réel —le « terrain de jeu », le « cercle magique », le chéquier . . . un monde imaginaire avec ses propres frontières et ses règles qui ne partagent rien de la complexité et de la confusion du monde réel. Les sentiments et les émotions reliées au jeu sont, par exemple, très réels et très intenses – on peut « écraser » l’adversaire, mais ensuite on peut rentrer à la maison avec lui en toute amitié. Donc, l’opposé du jeu n’est pas le sérieux ; l’opposé du jeu, c’est la réalité.

Comme adultes, gardons-nous toujours la capacité de « jouer » ? En effet, je suis convaincu qu’un adulte sain doit préserver une place pour le jeu ludique dans sa vie, et doit au moins une ou deux fois par semaine trouver le temps pour « jouer », même si il ne s’agit pas des mêmes actions ou passe-temps que lorsqu’il était enfant. Que faites-vous pour jouer? Peut-être que votre enfant pourrait devenir votre enseignant pour vous rappeler l’importance du jeu dans votre propre vie.

La reine des violettes africaines ... et un secret du changement thérapeutique.

Dans le travail clinique que je fais auprès des enfants et des adolescents, un parent ou un enseignant arrivera dans mon bureau pour me parler de toutes sortes de difficultés ou de problèmes - par exemple, d'un enfant qui n'écoute pas ou d'un ado qui n'aide pas à la maison – et on me demandera souvent des « trucs » pour motiver le jeune à changer son comportement. En effet, ce que j'aimerais partager avec vous est un « truc » parmi les plus puissants, que je n'utilise pas uniquement auprès de mes jeunes clients, mais aussi dans mon travail auprès des couples et des familles– et bien sûr, je dois avouer, avec mes propres enfants. Il s'agit de remarquer qu'est-ce qu'ils font bien – même s'il s'agit d'une exception plutôt rare – et ensuite, de le souligner verbalement. J'aimerais illustrer ce concept avec un récit d'un thérapeute réputé, Milton Erickson.

Dr. Erickson raconte qu'un de ses collègues lui demanda un jour d'aller voir sa mère qu'il trouvait extrêmement déprimée. Le docteur Erickson se rendit donc chez la dame, qui l'a reçu dans une salle de séjour obscure où de lourds rideaux tirés empêchaient la moindre clarté de filtrer. Durant leur conversation, elle lui confia qu'elle ne sortait qu'une fois par semaine pour aller à l'église et qu'elle rentrait toute de suite après le service. Elle n'avait pas d'amis, elle ne voyait rien de positif.

Le docteur Érickson, constatant que cette dame était effectivement très déprimée, lui demanda alors de lui faire visiter l'immense demeure qu'elle habitait. Toutes les pièces étaient aussi sombres et tristes les unes que les autres, un peu comme la vie de la dame. D'épais rideaux bloquaient toute clarté. Soudainement, ils entrèrent dans une petite pièce très éclairée. Les rideaux étaient grand ouverts et laissaient pénétrer les rayons de soleil par toutes les fenêtres. Il y avait des plantes partout dans la pièce et au moment ou la dame commença à lui expliquer qu'elle cultivait des violettes africaines à partir de boutures, Erickson remarqua que son visage s'illumina pour la première fois. Soudain, Erickson s'exclama : « Je viens de trouver un remède à votre dépression ! » Il lui proposa d'apprendre les dates d'anniversaire de tous les gens qui fréquentaient son église et simplement de leur offrir à chacun, le jour de leur fête, une de ses violettes. Ensuite elle pourrait leur expliquer comment en prendre soin.

La solution proposée par le docteur Erickson, que la dame accepta d'essayer, donna des résultats remarquables. Des années plus tard, il relata cette histoire à ses étudiants en tenant un journal jauni à la main, ou l'on pouvait lire en gros titre : « La reine des violettes africaines n'est plus. Des milliers de personnes pleurent sa disparition. » Cette dame avait pris la suggestion du docteur à cœur. Les gens qui recevaient une violette africaine en pot étaient touchés par son geste et elle s'était ainsi fait de nombreux amis. D'un petit brin de positif dans sa vie, le seul en effet, en est découlé beaucoup de changement positif. Les violettes avaient, en effet, transformé sa vie. Les étudiants du docteur Erickson lui posèrent la question : « Mais comment vous avez décidé d'utiliser les violettes africaines comme un levier pour le changement thérapeutique ? » Il répondit : « C'est simple : c'était la seule chose dans sa vie qui allait bien. »

Pareillement, c'est tellement facile pour nous de ne voir que les problèmes de comportement, les côtés « sombres » de nos enfants ou de nos élèves plutôt que nous attarder à leurs bonnes actions ou leurs bonnes qualités. Nous devons plutôt les « surprendre en train de faire quelque chose de bon » - de mettre plus d'accent sur les « violettes africaines », les exceptions positives, que sur l'obscurité, et verbaliser le positif qu'on voit afin de le renforcer et le mettre davantage en évidence. Même si le comportement positif qu'on soulève (mon enfant m'écoute, mon ado se montre responsable) s'agit d'une exception qu'on ne voit que rarement, d'y mettre l'accent augmentera les chances qu'on le revoit plus souvent. Je vous encourage à trouver vos propres « violettes » dans la vie des enfants que vous connaissez . . . même s'il faut creuser un peu !

Développer une relation thérapeutique auprès d'un enfant

« La petite Annie », née dans l'état de Massachusetts en 1866, était aveugle suite à une maladie à l'âge de cinq ans. Le père étant absent et la mère décédée, elle fût placée à l'âge de 10 ans à l'Institut Tewksbury, un orphelinat psychiatrique. Annie n'ayant pas développé des aptitudes pour s'exprimer, elle extériorisait ses frustrations physiquement, en donnant des coups de pieds. Finalement, on l'enferma dans une cellule—vraiment un cas désespéré. Pourtant, une vieille infirmière réussit à établir un lien avec elle. Chaque midi cette dame prenait son repas à l'extérieur de la cellule d'Annie et lui parlait, lui racontait des histoires. La petite Annie commença tranquillement à lui parler un peu . . . et les médecins commencèrent à voir des changements positifs et significatifs chez la petite fille.

Un peu plus tard, encouragé par ces changements, on invita Annie à aider d'autres enfants en difficultés en lui enseignant certaines techniques. À l'âge de 14 ans elle fût opérée pour la vue au Perkins Institute, une école de Boston pour les aveugles. Elle continua à progresser et à gagner le respect de ses enseignants et de ses pairs.

En 1886, elle fût recommandée par un spécialiste – qui s'appelait Alexander Graham Bell – pour devenir l'enseignante d'un autre « cas désespéré », une fille de six ans qui était sourde-muette et aveugle. C'est ainsi qu' Anne Sullivan – la petite Annie – est devenue l'amie et l'enseignante à vie de Helen Keller, qui allait devenir grâce à son influence et son dévouement, une des femmes les plus renommées au monde du début du 20ième siècle.

Helen Keller a appris à parler. Elle a été la première personne aveugle et sourde dans l'histoire à être diplômée. Elle a écrit des livres et elle a apporté de l'espoir aux personnes vivant avec un handicap physique. Elle a été honorée dans le monde entier et fût à maintes reprises l'invitée d'honneur des gouvernements et des universités. Ses livres ont été traduits dans plus de 50 langues et on a fait deux films sur sa vie.

Par conséquent on peut voir dans la vie de ces deux femmes l'importance et l'impact potentiel qu'une relation d'aide peut avoir.

Bien sûr, avant de pouvoir intervenir de façon efficace auprès des enfants, il nous faut une compréhension de leur développement normal et il faut aussi connaître le processus de changement thérapeutique. . . mais à part ces connaissances, certaines qualités personnelles peuvent faciliter notre cheminement auprès de nos clients enfants.

Pour être un bon intervenant ou thérapeute auprès des enfants, voici ce que je considère être des qualités personnelles de base :

• Un amour authentique pour les enfants – car ils vont savoir si vous trouvez votre travail auprès d'eux agréable et stimulant . . . ou si votre sourire est forcé ;

• Savoir vous faire écouter et apprécier par les enfants ;

• Un contact avec votre « enfant intérieur », la capacité de puiser facilement dans les souvenirs de votre propre enfance, y compris des conflits et des douleurs (pour ne pas confondre votre propre travail thérapeutique avec votre métier) ;

• Savoir vous mettre dans la peau de vos clients enfants, de vous identifier à eux ;

• Enthousiasme, c'est-à-dire la capacité de jouer (afin d'établir une bonne alliance thérapeutique) et une appréciation des jouets (« matériaux de jeu thérapeutiques ») ;

• Une tolérance pour l'expression ouverte de la frustration et de la colère, le bruit, les dégâts, un niveau d'énergie élevé – et en même temps, la capacité de fixer des limites claires ;

• Flexibilité, créativité, et la confiance de vous en servir ;

• La croyance que les enfants sont importants et que vos efforts pour les aider ne sont jamais inutiles, même si on ne peut pas toujours faire une différence ;

• Des instincts parentaux, c'est-à-dire de vouloir le bien-être et la protection des enfants. L'expérience parentale est également utile pour augmenter votre crédibilité auprès des parents de vos clients enfants et vous permettre de partager les difficultés d'être parent.

On voit dans les exemples de la vieille infirmière et d' Anne Sullivan l'importance des qualités personnelles et relationnelles. Elles sont souvent plus importantes et primordiales que nos compétences et connaissances professionnelles. Helen Keller a souvent parlé du premier jour où Anne Sullivan est entrée dans sa vie comme étant « la journée de naissance de mon âme ».

N'oublions jamais dans notre travail auprès des enfants la valeur du contact humain et de l'amour.

"The Tree With Lights In It"

Waiting for Seth

One of the most difficult things my wife and I have had to face was several years of infertility. In the middle of that difficult time, after several In Vitro interventions, we thought that Karen might finally be pregnant and we were so excited. We were going on a canoe trip with my parents and planned on telling them. Then several days into the canoe trip Karen began her period and our nascent hopes were dashed. I wrote this poem in our tent the day after. Karen didn't get a chance to read it until we were back in the city - I gave it to her one morning just before she headed off on the metro. She read it in the metro and, surrounded by strangers, began sobbing. (When she got home later that day, she told me she could have killed me!)

________________
To Seth, who was not yet meant to be
August 12, 1997
Wilderness escape
for the four of us that summer:
Me, wide-eyed by the wilds,
my sweet wife of two years
and my parents-for-life.
Sun-spangled days and
rain-speckled nights,
The benediction of campfire smoke
and the green-healing of pine forests.
One afternoon a little family passes by in their canoe,
Two children ensconced like small jewels in their seats.
They camp next to us. In early evening the father teaches his little girl to paddle,
with calm patience and clear visions of distant canoe trips in his eyes.
Lying watching on the flat rock, my eyes cannot escape.
Thirty-seven and counting,
my back sorer from portaging this year than it was last year,
gray hairs, more than before.
The news came this morning - no child for us
nine months hence.
Another cycle of prayers shattered and splintered,
Another cycle of hopes deferred,
with heart-sickening finality.
O Seth, Seth, my son,
You were not yet meant to be.
Naming you has brought the sweetness
and the hurt
Too quickly home to my far-traveling heart.
A loon calls distantly, mourning your unborn possibilities
As we sleep again under sizzling rain.
Tomorrow the trip continues
by paddle and portage,
A trip of sweet sadness, of healing waters.
A long trip that you will never know.

________________

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick . . . " (Proverbs 13:12)
____________________ 


Would you like to hear the good news? In 2001, just under four years later, we adopted a wonderful little baby of Inuit origin, who is (along with his brother!) our pride and joy.
And yes. . . we named him Seth.

On Drinking the Water of Opalescent Lake

August 15, 1997

drunk in great gulpfuls
this water inhabits me
indwells me
passes through me.
passion fruit drink powder
cannot hide its northernlake
potency.

i become what i consume.
i am iridescent, incandescent.
lakelight shines forth from me,
radiates from eyes, fingertips,
pours out from every pore.
i am a man transformed, a son of the wilderness.
the forest melts and folds itself around me:

now i can see the moon even when it is behind the clouds.
now i can walk lightly on the rippling water
now i can hear the loons even when they are silent.

____________________

IM OK

March 10, 1982

well I know copernicus really changed things he did with finding out that ol earth wasnt number one you know what I mean that it isnt the center of the universe but some folks just havent found that out yet cuz the Me generation is still here with its be My own best friend philosophies and its fulfill My needs mentalities and its do My own thing moralities and you know this guy thinks hes the center of the universe the ticker of the old big bang itself and youve got to do this do that do this to keep him healthy and happy and at the top of the heap and if you dont measure up boom! out of the friendship books and all and that forget it buddy you dont make Me feel good about Myself stuff and so long and you know Ive been done to like that many times my friend maybe five six times and aint nobody out for nobody elses good so far as I can see its still just look out for good ol Number One no room at the top for two you must know what I mean so Im into Self-Actualization you know thats being the best I can be or trying to at least and it sure helps Me get out of those petty little egocentric ways of looking at life and the world and everything and you can take a free lesson from Me I know Im not the center of the universe the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up in one big zinger and I can be realistic about that cuz I know Myself real good you know Ive taken all them courses and I know what I got and what I aint and I know where I came from and where Im going and I just got one question for you how come nobody knows how to listen anymore?
____________________

A salesman’s morning

February 16, 1981

Why,
Why won’t she let me in?
The old woman shivers inside her door,
Her gnarled hands firmly on the lock,
Shaking her head resolutely.

Around me a cold rain—thunder murmurs impersonally
Along this desolate, leafy road.

Why now,
When I so much need for her to let me in
Talk to me
Like me
Is she keeping those old hands on the lock?

Does she fear me,
Me?
I tense up.

I turn, walk stiffly down her overgrown path,
Refusing to let her see the bitter anger
Squeezing from my eyelids.

I proudly swing open my car door,
Feeling her eyes piercing my back.

I smoothly get inside,
By myself,
Turn on the engine
And cry.
____________________

Bear Awareness (or, Bearanoia)

August 16, 1997

"The explanation of the Algonquin incidents may be
that the particular extremely unusual bears were deliberately preying on humans. This idea is a chilling one and deeply affects us all. . . Although your chance of meeting a
predaceous bear is next to zero . . .”1


Dark dark hulking in the
Shadows just beyond the
feeble candlelit safety of my tent.
Moving forward quietly jaws dripping eyes clearly focused
—(“deliberately preying on humans”!)—
And maybe just maybe already having caught my scent.

Unexplained and wholly unexplainable,
You may not be there
in the everlasting darkness
just beyond my circle of light —
But you are there
in the depths of me:
Every *crackling* twig
is a sure portent of your coming,
Every nighttime sound
heralds your nearness. . .
And ev ry beat of my heart
when I cannot sleep
suggests
the terror
of you.


(written some time after dark)

1. Algonquin Canoe Routes, Friends of Algonquin Park

___________________________________

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