The Schopenhauer Cure(34)
“When I spoke to Gill last week,” said Philip, speaking in a measured tone and avoiding eye contact, “I pointed out that the more attachments one has, the more burdensome life becomes and the more suffering one experiences when one is separated from these attachments. Schopenhauer and Buddhism both hold that one must release oneself from attachments and—”
“I don’t think that is helpful to me,” interrupted Julius, “and I’m also not sure if this is where this meeting should be going.” He noted a quick pregnant glance passing between Rebecca and Gill but continued, “I come in on that in the opposite way: attachments, and plenty of them, are the indispensable ingredients of a full life, and to avoid attachments because of anticipated suffering is a sure recipe for being only partially alive. I don’t mean to cut you off, Rebecca, but I think it more to the point to go back to your reactions, everyone’s reactions, to the announcement I’ve made. Obviously, learning of my cancer has got to stir up strong feelings. I’ve known many of you for a long time.” Julius stopped talking and looked around at his patients.
Tony, who had been slumped in his chair, stirred himself. “Well, I had a jolt when you said earlier that what should be important to us was how long you could continue to lead this group—that comment got under my skin, thick-skinned as I’ve been accused of being. Now, I don’t deny that crossed my mind, but, Julius, I’m mostly upset at what this means for you.…I mean, let’s face it, you’ve been pretty, I mean…really, important to me, helped me get over some really bad stuff…. I mean, is there something I, we, can do for you? This has gotta be terrible for you.”
“Ditto for me,” said Gill, and all the others (save Philip) joined in assent.
“I’m going to respond, Tony, but first say how touched I am and how impossible it would have been for you, a couple of years ago, to be so direct and to reach out so generously. But to answer your question, it’s been terrible. My feelings come in waves. I hit bottom the first couple of weeks when I canceled the group. Did a lot of nonstop talking to my friends, my whole support network. Right now, at this moment, I’m doing better. You get used to everything, even mortal illness. Last night the refrain ‘Life is just one goddamned loss after another’ kept passing through my mind.”
Julius stopped. No one spoke. Everyone stared at the floor. Julius added, “I want to deal with it openly…willing to discuss everything…I won’t shy away from anything…but unless you ask something specific, I’m talked out now plus I don’t feel I need the whole meeting to be given to me today. I want to say I have energy to work with you here in my usual way. In fact it’s important to me that we go on as we always have.”
After a short silence Bonnie said, “I’ll be honest, Julius, there’s something I could work on, but I don’t know…my problems seem insignificant compared to what you’re going through.”
Gill looked up and added, “Me, too. My stuff—whether or not I learn to talk to my wife, stay with her, or leave the sinking ship—all that seems trivial in comparison.”
Philip took that as his cue. “Spinoza was fond of using a Latin phrase, sub specie aeternitatis, meaning ‘from the aspect of eternity.’ He suggested that disturbing quotidian events become less unsettling if they are viewed from the aspect of eternity. I believe that concept may be an underappreciated tool in psychotherapy. Perhaps,” and here Philip turned and addressed Julius directly, “it may offer a form of solace to even the kind of serious assault you’re facing.”
“I can see you’re trying to offer me something, Philip, and I appreciate that. But right now the idea of taking a cosmic-eye view of life is the wrong flavor of medicine. Let me tell you why. Last night I didn’t sleep well and got to feeling sad for not having appreciated what I had at the very moment it was happening. When I was young, I always regarded the present as a prelude to something better that was going to occur. And then, the years passed, I suddenly found myself doing the opposite—I was bathing myself in nostalgia. What I’ve not done enough of is to treasure each moment, and that’s the problem with your solution of detachment. I think it faces life through the wrong end of the telescope.”
“I gotta come in here, Julius,” said Gill, “with an observation: I don’t think there’s much chance you’re going to accept anything that Philip says.”
“An observation I’ll always pay attention to, Gill. But that’s an opinion. Where’s the observation?”
“Well, the observation is that you’re just not respecting anything he offers.”
“I know what Julius would say about that, Gill,” said Rebecca. “It’s still not an observation; it’s a guess about his feelings. What I observe”—she turned to Julius—“is that this is the first time you and Philip have addressed one another even halfway directly and that you have interrupted Philip a few times today, something I never see you do with anyone else.”
“Touché, Rebecca,” answered Julius. “Right on—a direct and accurate observation.”
“Julius,” said Tony, “I’m not getting the picture at all. You and Philip—what’s going on?—I don’t get it. Is he right when he says you phoned him out of the blue?”