Some years ago, I fell asleep behind the couch while conducting a session of psychoanalytic psychotherapy. My patient, a young man named Michael, turned around and caught me with my eyes closed. “Are you asleep,” he asked. I jolted awake and scrambled for an answer. “No,” I said, “Just resting my eyes.” Michael lay back down, unsatisfied. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’d like to believe you, but I don’t.” He went on voicing his doubts, asserting himself in a way I’d never heard before. As the seconds turned into minutes, I grew more and more uncomfortable until I could no longer bear my feelings. I admitted the truth. In the wake of this incident Michael wanted to quit. He moved from the couch to the chair, where he could keep an eye on me. Over the next few weeks he expressed his anger and disappointment. He struggled to square his new disillusion with his trust in me based on years of fruitful alliance. In the end he decided to stay, now protected and energized by a new attitude: “Trust, but verify.” This experience spurred his development into a mature adult who recognized his responsibility for himself. Michael never again used the couch, but we continued the partnership that enabled him to conquer his fears and achieve his goals — starting a business, marrying, and becoming a father. What enabled me, compelled me to admit my failure, despite my shame and fear, was the imperative to tell the truth, born of my own moral code buttressed by my identity as an analyst. In analytic therapy we work hard to unearth distortions of truth that block forward movement toward creative loving and living. Succeeding at this task depends first and foremost on the mutual efforts of analyst and patient to maintain an honest conversation. Today, in the world outside the consulting room, we truth-seekers find ourselves strangers in a strange land, presided over by a man whose rise to power rests on his instinct to stir up what is base and false in us, rather than what is good and true. Our compromised leader engenders enthusiasm in his followers by engaging in false conversation, monologue disguised as dialogue.
Followers in a false conversation think they have a say, when they are actually following a script in which only the leader has a voice: Leader: We all know it’s a shame, what they try to do to us. We know it’s them, not us, don’t we? Followers: Them, them! Leader: We have no choice but to round them up and put them away. Followers: Yeah, round them up and put them away! Leader: Now there’s a suggestion for you. I couldn’t have come up with a better one myself. I knew you were smart! Round them up and put them away! Followers: Round them up! Put them away! Round them up! Put them away! Fake conversation is pervaded by lies planted in the midst of unsuspecting followers. It provides the means of turning demonstrable truths into their opposites. Laws that deprive citizens of the vote become laws that protect us from voter fraud. Empirical evidence of climate change becomes fabrication for a hoax. When Sigmund Freud was attempting to leave Austria in 1938, he was forced to sign a statement supporting the government. Freud asked to add a sentence, “I heartily recommend the Gestapo to anyone.” Reduced to the status of a refugee dependent on the beneficence of the functionaries of a persecutory regime, he used his gift for irony to inject a final dose of truth, an element of honest conversation, into a body of lies. The founder of psychoanalysis was able to make his way to freedom because he recognized the fundamental frailty of the human mind, our craving for the fulfillment of wishes for dominance, admiration, and love. He understood how our emotional needs, forged in the heat of trauma, blind us to the realities of the worlds inside and outside of us, how our vulnerability as individuals allows us to be conscripted into mass movements in the misuse of power. Psychoanalysis has evolved enormously since Freud’s day. Its expanded insight gives us far greater capacity to help people make creative use of the good and true for the benefit of themselves and the societies they inhabit. The progenitors of the base and false may expand their reach by harnessing our fears of vulnerability and uncertainty, but they rarely make progress in the depth and complexity of thought and feeling. That kind of progress, which gives rise to a more humane and innovative society, requires real conversation, authentic dialogue that promotes conflict and compromise, empathy and mutuality. That is why my experience as a psychoanalyst gives me hope and energizes me in these discouraging times.
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PSYBC Presents Meet the Mess with Chuck Prod Chuck: We’re hearing some amazing things from the new administration this week. Yesterday, President Trump’s press secretary, Brawn Slicer, came out swinging about the press misrepresenting the crowd size at President Trump’s inauguration. Here’s what he said. Brawn: Contrary to lies told by the sick, disingenuous mainstream media, yesterday President Trump’s inauguration was attended by the largest crowd ever. And that was only in the U.S. Actually, in Washington, D.C. alone. If you count the other continents, it was the largest crowd in the history of our solar system. If you add the two closest galaxies, it was the largest crowd since the Big Bang. Come to think of it, it was the only other Big Bang since the original one. Probably even bigger than the original. Louder, and with more moving parts. Chuck: Later that day I had the privilege of a private audience with Brawn. Here’s how it went. Chuck: Wow, what a first press conference. Well, not a conference exactly. More like a press beat down. Tell us how it happened, Brawn. Brawn: Yeah, the Boss made me do it. He didn’t exactly say, “Go out there and lie.” He said, “I’m great, am I not? Everybody knows how great I am. Even you. Wouldn’t the greatest leader in American history have the largest crowd ever? Now go out there and tell it like it is…or else! Chuck: This morning I had the opportunity to interview the President’s advisor, Carry-On Con-Woman, to seek further enlightenment on the attendance issue: Chuck: So, let’s talk about Brawn Slicer’s press announcement yesterday. Don’t you agree the inauguration size was wildly exaggerated? Carry-On: Let’s focus on the numbers that the American people really care about. Like how many dyspeptic, Planned Parenthood-despising angels our amazing President can fit on the head of a made-in-America pin. And how many times he can say “forgotten white men” and “American exceptionalism” in 24 hours. Chuck: Carry-On, you’re not really answering the question. Carry On: What question? Is there a question? Chuck: Yes. Why are you lying about the size of the crowd? Carry-On: Were you there? I mean did you cover the entire solar system? Did you even report from Pluto? Chuck: Pluto isn’t a planet anymore. Carry-On: Just because the International Astronomical Union says so? Are we going to cede our sovereignty to an international cabal? Have you talked to the hard working, white middle class Plutonians who lost their jobs under Obama? Donald has! Lying Hillary thought she was too good for that little excursion. Anyway, the next Executive Order will dictate U.S. withdrawal from the Interstellar Association of Sane Species. Put that in your e-cigarette and vape it! Chuck: Be reasonable, Carry-On. PSYBC is not funded by plutocratic billionaires. We can’t cover demoted planets. Carry-On: Just as I thought. A mere 4.67 billion miles is too much for you arrogant liberal weenies. Not to worry. When we drain the swamp, we will be pumping the waste water under the ground of the east and west coasts. When you add that to the rising sea levels caused by global warming, by 2020 the entire feculent progressive professional class will be six feet under. Chuck: I thought you Trumpists don’t believe in global warming? Didn’t President Trump call it the hoax of the century? Carry-On: We never called it a hoax. You just did. Chuck: Let me play you a video of your boss’s campaign speech in Hilton Head, South Carolina, on May 5 2016: Carry-On: Uh, oh. Chuck, let me consult my notes… Let’s see, maybe he did say that. But he didn’t mean it. He says a lot of things he doesn’t mean. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t amazing. Or false. He did mean it, but he un-meant it later. He meant it for unemployed white people, but not for important people who do great, great projects. Or maybe—OMG—I dropped my cheat sheets in a puddle. Who put this puddle here, anyway?! My boss promised to eliminate all puddles in his first five days. Oh, but look at my reflection in that one, aren’t I awesome? Chuck: (Speechless) Carry-On: As Brawn said, Me and My Boss, we’re the loudest noise in the history of the alternate galaxy. Chuck: The alternate galaxy? I’d call it the fabric of infinite falsehoods! Carry-On: Haven’t you read The Theory of Everything? Chuck: Isn’t that the awesome collection of Roz Chast cartoons? Carry-On: No, you ignorant liberal flunky. That’s Theories of Everything. I’m talking about Steve Hawkins, the science guy. He says that every alternate reality already exists. Chuck: I thought you guys didn’t believe in science. Carry-On: That was yesterday. Chuck: And that’s all for today’s MTP! PsychNotes: The world that you and I live in provides ample opportunity to experience ourselves as ordinary and insignificant. Such opportunities are anathema to the pathological narcissist, who is constant danger of a precipitous fall in self-regard. Healthy people fend off threats to self-regard with ordinary internal and external resources – reminding ourselves of our worth, seeking feedback from people who appreciate us. For the pathological narcissist, such measures are difficult to take, and in any case insufficient. But he does have another, albeit drastic option at his disposal: change the world to conform to his needs by substituting an internally generated fantasy version for the version most of us agree is real. Thus do little crowds become BIG. The frightening thing is that such desperate alterations can be applied to far more important bits of reality than crowd size
The fortunes of a demagogue lie in the way we resolve the conflict he stimulates in us between our dark fantasies of power and glory and our mature strivings toward love and reason… Sigmund Freud likened the work of a psychoanalyst to that of an archeologist, who digs down through layers of history, searching for fragments that enable him to reconstruct the past. The fragments Freud sought were his patients’ foundational childhood experiences, which often hold the key to re-awakening thwarted development. The creator of “the talking cure” took almost as much interest in the origins of words and names as in the origins of neuroses. I was reminded of his enthusiasm a few months ago, when I heard that comedian John Oliver, in an effort to deflate the brand of Trump, revealed that the surname was derived from the ancestral Drumpf. The transformation from the pedestrian to the powerful patronymic may have occurred in the late 1600’s. According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the verb “trump” derives from the Old French tromper, to blow a trumpet or a horn or, metaphorically, to deceive, cheat, or act the fool. Quacks and mountebanks attracted the public by blowing a horn, then cheated them into buying things like magic medicines, mesmerizing audiences with stories, jokes and tricks. The term mountebank derives from the Italian imperative monta in banco, meaning get up on a bench. Have you seen any images this year of a man on a platform crowing, gesticulating and yarn spinning as he tries to sway his audience to purchase potent potions of resentment? One picture tells a thousand-word story. One word unveils a thousand poignant pictures. We know that Donald was a troubled boy whose unruly behavior inspired his parents to send him to military school, which he credits with shaping him up. But it’s not the troubled demagogue who’s on the couch here; it’s our relationship with him. Back in May, I watched him use an entire hour-long speech to stoke the destructive fires of xenophobia. I wanted to tear myself away, but I was drawn by an irresistible force. I was fascinated by the vulgarity and hostility that provoked protest which, in turn, provoked more hostility, in a darkening spiral. Despite my better instincts, I was enjoying the thrill of participating in a lurid fantasy and hoped the coverage would go on. At the same time, increasingly unable to deny the realness of the frightening event playing out in front of me, I wished it would stop. My attention was riveted by the clash of these two desires, both my own. In Kafka’s short story, A Hunger Artist, a public performer who starves himself in a cage resents his promoter, who forbids him to fast longer than forty days, believing that after such time the sympathy of his audience inevitably declines. Despite the artist’s fame he feels dissatisfied and misunderstood. He erupts in fury whenever a spectator tries to comfort him. When public fasting goes out of fashion he joins a circus, where he is barely noticed. Just before he dies he abjures admiration, insisting that he only fasts because he can’t find food he likes. Big crowds flock to view his replacement, a young panther who radiates vigor. Trump is the hunger artist of our time. He comes complete at no extra charge with himself as his promoter. Trump the self-promoter tries to get Trump the hunger artist to play within bounds that provide just enough titillation to keep the show going, but not so much that we lose interest or become too afraid. Their act offers the unmatched spectacle of a man who needs no nourishment other than our adoration. His awful feats are limited only by the barriers we erect to contain him. He yearns to vanquish whatever restrains his power to subjugate our common decency to our primitive desire to hurt and hate. We are the audience without whom his act could not exist. Even those of us who profess the most rabid disagreement with his program and persona legitimize his performance with our insistent attention. Now, embittered by diminishing popularity and mounting criticism, the hunger artist of our time grows ever more desperate to break out of his limited act. We spectators see his window of opportunity closing and move on to the the next big spectacle, the Olympians of Rio, NFL 2016, the return of The Walking Dead. But he cannot bear our changing the channel. Unable to tolerate loss, he agitates his followers with paranoid visions of violent resistance to a “rigged” system. Even now, we underestimate his power to manufacture virulent variations of himself at our peril.
Will his next mutated act rule the circus or be contained? Strangely enough, the outcome depends on our ability to empathize with him, i.e., to feel the sad dynamics that drive him and his most ardent followers. Digging deep into our own words, we discover the disguises we live by. Aware that we, too, have the capacity to be hunger artists, to attempt to survive on the empty calories of grievance and self aggrandizement, can we risk feeling the pain and vulnerability that a hunger artist cannot? Can we overcome paralysis induced by trauma and maintained by fear? Can we be moved to mobilize against the dark elixir of the mountebank, to passionately pursue more lucent remedies? In this humane pursuit lies the commonality between psychoanalysis and social justice, between the reflective individual and the sane society. Third graders on field trip discover Earthlings' unique approach to climate change...
Back TalkText introducing Dr. Makover Looking to maximize profit on your house-flip investment? You’ve put in literally thousands of hours transforming an ugly wreck of a house into an enviable property, no doubt the most gorgeous in the neighborhood. Now is not the time to rest on your laurels (whatever those are!), as the crucial “showing phase” begins. It is well known that prospective buyers make their decision yea or nay within two minutes of crossing the threshold of a new listing. Your challenge is to create an overwhelmingly positive impression from the get-go. If you’re reading this, you are in luck! I recently pioneered a new technique I call “Found Object Art Simulation.” Follow these simple and straightforward directions and you will raise the number and price of your offers by 25% or more. First, find a collection of objects in a nook or cranny of your home that catches your eye. (If you are one those inveterate multi-taskers so prevalent today who never pays much attention to anything, I recommend You Are Here by the celebrated Buddhist leader Tikh Nhat Han.) Next, manipulate a few objects, changing their position or even removing and adding a few, till the color and composition look good. For maximum effect set up a red velvet rope in front of the designated area and tack a white plastic label with embossed black lettering on the closest wall at eye height, giving your display an imaginative title that captures its special essence, much like a real artist does. Three to five displays are optimal. Now the real fun begins. When your prospective buyer walks through the door, whisk him or her around past all your “exhibits” as fast as you can. With strategic placement and a rapid pace, hitting them all under two minutes should be no problem. The technique is particularly effective with first time buyers and shoppers with a flair for design. What’s that? You think you and your home lack potential? Think again! All it takes is a little imagination to make the most out of the available materials, no matter how prosaic they appear in their usual habitats. Intimidated? Check out the simple displays below that turned a run-of-the-mill American Craftsman kit-built bungalow into a heart stopping irresistible manse, and see how easy it is to add value while exercising creative impulses you never thought you had! Would you believe these compelling, museum quality exhibits were set up in less time than it took you to commute to work this week and for less money than your monthly utility bill? If you get stuck, ask a special friend for help, or even a spouse. Double the fun and square the creativity when you share the fun with others. Remember it’s your pockets those extra dollars will be filling. Get the picture(s)? Now what are you waiting for?!
This Political Season: Intolerance at the GatesAs a psychoanalyst both love and hate are in my purview, but I admit I’m not neutral on the question of which is better sustenance for living. There is a long tradition of applying psychoanalysis outside of the consulting room. Freud set a mind expanding precedent. He drew his inspiration from science, religion, history, mythology, society and the arts as well as from his practice, and he gave back to all these sources of knowledge and energy. Violence, hatred, sadism, bigotry: they fascinated Freud and still fascinate us. When growing unchecked in our midst, however, they may call us beyond our consulting rooms in defense of tolerance and peaceful co-existence. Elvin Semrad, a beloved teacher of psychoanalysis at the Massachusetts Mental Health Center in the 1960’s and 70’s famously said the goal of psychotherapy is to help people “acknowledge, bear and put in perspective” their struggles and their pain. In this respect the music of good poetry is often psychoanalytic and the feeling experience of a good analysis is often poetic. Allmerica's Song“I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose votes.” -- Donald Trump, rally. Sioux City Iowa, 1/23/16 Donald Trump retweets neo-Nazi sympathizer who has said he lives in “Jewmerica.” — New York Daily News, 1/22/16
Notes
-St. Louis: An ocean liner carrying Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany turned away by the U.S. Many on board died in concentration camps after returning to Europe. -Third house of the Pig: In the Three Little Pigs, the house of bricks too strong for the big bad wolf to blow down. -Borg: From the Star Trek TV series, an alien race of cyborgs functioning as drones in a hive mind. They force other species into the hive, warning them, “resistance is futile.” -Lost your state: Ben Franklin, when asked on leaving Independence Hall at the close of the 1787 Constitutional Convention, “Well Doctor, what have we got---a republic or a monarchy?” replied, “A Republic, if you can keep it.” -MLK’s arc: Martin Luther King, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Dr. Motley needs no introduction to those of you who have been faithfully watching his long-running series on the Self and Other Improvement channel (SOI) these past many years, or who have read his many published works, including Thrilling Low-Risk Life Adventuresand Away with All Worry: Fast Track Therapy for Generations X ,Y ,Z and Beyond. Dr. Motley has an uncanny ability to distill digestible nuggets of practical import from his thirty years of practice as a psychotherapist and educator. He can’t name any names, but the list of people who have consulted him reads like a veritable Who’s Whoof Movers and Shakers. We are beyond pleased to offer the good doctor’s wisdom in the form of contributions to Boomspring Blog. Dr. Motley makes his debut with a stirringly upbeat approach to one of life’s most trying experiences: Loss Without StressHave you ever noticed when you stop people on the street at random, especially the ones who aren’t smiling*, and ask what’s on their minds, they are likely to tell you they lost some thing or person? After a day or two of this you might think the condition is rather common. Well, trust your intuition. You would be absolutely right! The results just in from NIMH sponsored studies at two reputable institutions of higher learning have found the condition to be downright ubiquitous! But not to worry! We have distilled the hard won insights of some of history’s greatest thinkers (including my fellow clinical researchers) for your perusal below. Incorporate them into your Mental Transformations(MT) practice today! In almost no time at all you will inoculate yourself against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Many people have trouble after they lose. Losses may be medium, like losing your wallet or a bet on your favorite sports team; small, like losing your keys; very small, like losing a receipt you need for your tax filing; large, like losing your car; very large, like losing your brand new car; or extremely large, like losing a loved one: Losing is really not that difficult. Your car is probably insured, with a small deductible, say $3000. You can copy your spouse’s car key, with the exception of most keys to models built after 2010, which contain miniature electronic devices connected to the “internet of things,” things such as your downstairs thermostat, which requires remote adjustment to keep the pipes from freezing if the temperature drops below 9 degrees. Your pharmacy receipt—well, the chance of getting audited is less than 0.3% unless the GOP loses control of Congress. Most lost things can be recovered, replaced or proven insignificant: However, exceptions do occur: Mental Transformation (MT) is a successful new therapy that can reduce the stress associated with extremely large or resistant losses. To get started, focus your unquiet mind on one or more of these time-tested comforting cognitions (cognitions are something like thoughts, only more sophisticated): 10 Cognitions to Stop Obsessing about that Thing You Lost
Concentrate as hard as you can, performing five sets of five reps on each item in succession. Repeat as often as needed. ** You choose the number of cognitions, but remember, the more the better. Rigorous testing has revealed exactly how stress varies as the inverse of that number. Here is an example of the results in the case of your loss of Aunt Bess: If you are at all glum after 5 X 5 reps, you can purchase my best selling Loss Without Stress at a surprisingly affordable price on the web or at your favorite big box bookstore (if it’s still in business). Loss Without Stress is money-back guaranteed to produce the following results: Enough said. Now, GO TO IT, LOSERS! It’s really not that hard, once you get the hang of it.*** *In the Midwest where everybody smiles you may choose people at random. ** ADD sufferers, please take your Adderall with a small glass of orange juice 20 minutes prior to beginning this exercise
*** Occasionally you may experience a loss resistant to multiple reps of all 10 cognitions and even to several close readings of my best-selling book. Anecdotal evidence suggests that in such cases, talking to another human, e.g. a friend or relative, may be of some use. If all else fails, you might even consult a professional who deals with unremitting feelings. “Feelings” are kind of like thoughts with a little color added. Alright, I admit it, I’ve consulted other humans myself, but really very rarely. I have nothing but the greatest respect for Dr. Motley (see 5/1/16, Loss Without Stress) but occasionally after trying all of his suggestions I still can’t stop thinking about losing someone. Someone like Tom, who passed out of my life nearly three years ago, which seems like yesterday. Maybe telling you our story will help. HE WAS JUST THE MAN WHO DID THE NUMBERS—UNTIL HE WASN’T There are some people you don’t know you know. Tom was one of those. I’ve never found a way around struggling with tense when someone dies. After his church service cut flowers from his garden were displayed in the basement receiving room. Tom liked to garden. Tom likes to garden. I knew liked was technically correct, but I kept thinking it’s okay that Tom isn’t here because if he still likes to garden maybe he’s planting some lilies and just couldn’t make it today.
Every few months he would deliver some papers to my house or I to his, and we would chat for a while, especially around tax time. That’s how I found out he had Crohn’s disease and that one of his daughters ran away and he didn’t know where she was for a while. That he was a tax preparer who thought taxes would be the death of America. He said he was trained in every aspect of finance and he was absolutely certain he was right about taxes. I was surprised to hear this intensity coming from a man so slightly built and good-natured, but there it was. Most of the time we communicated by phone, fax and email. He taught me how to use an Excel spreadsheet, how to email my bank statement by making it into a pdf file using a printer dialog box, and how to avoid filling out 5500 forms by converting my Keogh into an IRA. I sent him a basket of chocolate for the holidays and he sent me a sampler box of Usinger’s sausages. I never had the heart to tell him we don’t eat red meat. He sent it every Christmas and every Christmas I put it in the garage to keep the sausages cold and preserved, thinking I would pass them on to someone who liked them. But I could never think of anyone, so after a few weeks they ended up in the trash. I felt a little guilty about that. Tom loved the Packers. I love the Packers, too, but we never talked about them. I would append little messages to my emails like “Go Packers!” and he would respond, “Beat those Bears!” We never saw a game together. I don’t know why we didn’t talk about them. We could have discussed the draft, or Clay Matthews’ ferocious charges, or the miracle of Aaron Rogers succeeding Brett Favre. It just didn’t come up. Tom sent me an email to let me know he was going into the hospital Monday for treatment of his Crohn’s. That was like Tom, to apologize for being unable to start on my accounting right away, just after I had belatedly sent him the quarterly data he’d been bugging me about for weeks. “Out until Friday.” I answered asking for details. He replied he was having a small piece of his distal intestine removed, no big deal. When I called him Wednesday morning he sounded a bit weak but otherwise chipper, complaining only that the TV didn’t have enough channels. I could hear his wife Amy in the background The next day she left a message that he was dead. My wife and I brought her a casserole that evening. She told us that his doctor had come in that morning and found him sitting up in bed without a pulse and with a smile on his face. Nobody knew what had happened. Amy told us when to look for his obituary. It was short and succinct. It said, “Tom was a Green Bay Packer enthusiast”. It also said, “He was blessed with many wonderful clients who were dear to him.” That was really unexpected. I felt the gentle pressure of an incipient tear behind my eyes, where I hadn’t known there was anything to feel. I tore out the obituary and put it on my desk to have the address of the church handy. I don’t know if I can call Tom a friend, but I do know that I miss him. He was an essential person in my life. At the funeral service his minister said that Tom never worried about dying because he knew he was going to another place and another life far more glorious than the one he knew here on earth. I hope he was right about that, too. |
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