The Schopenhauer Cure (39 page)

voyage, what kind of life, is it if you are so focused on the

departure that you can't enjoy your surroundings and can't enjoy other people? And that's what I see in you, Philip." Pam turned to address him directly. "Your solution to your problems is a

pseudosolution; it's no solution at all--it's something else--it's a relinquishment of life. You're not in life; you don't really listen to others, and when I hear you speak I don't feel I'm listening to a living, breathing person."

"Pam," Gill sprang to Philip's defense, "talk about

listening--I'm not sure you do much listening. Did you hear that he was miserable years ago? That he had overwhelming problems and impulses? That he did not respond to three full years of therapy with Julius? That he did what you just did last month--what any of us would do--seek another method? That he finally got help from a different approach--one which is no freakish New Age

pseudosolution? And that now he's trying to offer something to Julius by using the approach that helped him?"

The group was silenced by Gill's outburst. After a few

moments Tony said, "Gill, you are something else today! Sticking it to my girl Pam--I don't like that, but, man, I sure do like the way you're talking here--hope it rubs off on your home life with Rose."

"Philip," said Rebecca, "I want to apologize for being so

dismissive earlier today. I want to say that I'm changing my mind about this...story by...by...Epihetus..."

"Epictetus," said Philip in a softer tone.

"Epictetus, thanks." Rebecca continued, "The more I think

about it, this whole thing about attachment throws a light on some of my stuff. I think I am suffering from excessive attachment--not to things or possessions but to my looks. All my life I've had a free pass because of a pretty face--got lots of affirmation--prom

queen, homecoming queen, beauty contests--and now that it's

fading..."

"Fading?" said Bonnie. "Just pass the faded remnants on to

me."

"Me, too, I'll trade you anytime and throw in all my

jewelry...and kids, if I had any," said Pam.

"I appreciate that. I really do. But it's all relative." Rebecca went on, "I am too attached. I am my face, and now that it's become less, I feel I am less. I'm having a lot of trouble giving up my free pass."

"One of Schopenhauer's formulations that helped me," said

Philip, "was the idea that relative happiness stems from three sources: what one is, what one has, and what one represents in the eyes of others. He urges that we focus only on the first and do not bank on the second and third--on having and our reputation --

because we have no control over those two; they can, and will, be taken away from us--just as your inevitable aging is taking away your beauty. In fact, 'having' has a reverse factor, he said-- what we have often starts to have us. "

"Interesting, Philip. All three parts of that--what you are,

have, and stand for in the eyes of others--hits home for me. I've lived too much of my life for that last part--what others will think of me. Let me confess another secret: my magic perfume. I've

never talked to anyone about this, but ever since I can remember I've daydreamed about manufacturing a perfume called Rebecca

made up of my essence which lingers indefinitely and causes

anyone who inhales it to think of my beauty."

"Rebecca, you're taking so many more risks now. I love it,"

said Pam.

"Me too," said Stuart. "But let me tell you something that's

never registered before. I like to look at you, but I'm realizing now that your good looks are a barrier to seeing or knowing you, maybe even as much of a barrier as when a woman is ugly or misshapen."

"Wow, that's a shocker. Thanks, Stuart."

"Rebecca, I want you to know," said Julius, "that I too am

touched by your trusting us with your daydream about the

perfume. It points out what a vicious circle you've set up. You confuse your beauty with your essence. And then what happens, as Stuart points out, is that others do not relate to your essence but to your beauty."

"A vicious circle which leaves me doubting whether there's

anything there. I'm still struck by your phrase the other week, Julius, 'the beautiful empty woman'--that's me in spades."

"Except the vicious circle may be breaking down," said Gill.

"I know I've seen more of you--that is, something deeper, in the last few weeks than in the whole previous year."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Tony, "and, I'm being serious now,

I want to say I'm really sorry about counting out money when you told us about that time in Las Vegas--I acted like a real jerk."

"Apology noted and accepted," said Rebecca.

"You've gotten a lot of feedback today, Rebecca," said

Julius. "How're you feeling about it?"

"I feel great--it's good. I feel people are treating me

differently."

"It's not us," said Tony, "it's you. Put real stuff in--get real stuff out!"

"Put real stuff in--get real stuff out. I like that, Tony," said Rebecca. "Hey, you're getting good at this therapy business;

maybe I should start counting out money. What are your fees?"

Tony smiled broadly. "Since I'm on a roll, let me give you

my guess, Julius, about why you went out of your way to work

with Philip again. Maybe when you first saw Philip years ago you were closer to that state of mind you told us about last week--you know, having strong sex desires for other women."

Julius nodded. "Go on."

"Well, here's what I'm wondering: if you had issues similar

to Philip's--not the same but something in that ballpark--could that have gotten in the way of your therapy with him?"

Julius sat up straight in his chair. Philip, too, straightened up. "You are sure catching my attention, Tony. Now I'm beginning to remember why therapists are hesitant to reveal themselves--I mean it doesn't go away--what you reveal comes back to haunt

you again and again."

"Sorry, Julius, I definitely didn't mean to put you on the

spot."

"No, no, it's okay. I really mean that. I'm not complaining;

maybe I'm just stalling. Your observation is good--maybe it's too good, too close, and I'm resisting a bit." Julius paused and thought a moment. "Okay, here's what comes up for me: I remember that I was surprised and dismayed that I hadn't helped Philip. I should have helped him. When we began, I would have taken a big bet

that I would have helped him a lot. I thought I had an inside track on helping him. I was sure that my own personal experience would grease the rails of therapy."

"Maybe," said Tony. "Maybe that's why you invited Philip

into this group--give it another try, getting another chance.

Right?"

"You took the words out of my mouth," said Julius. "I was

just going to say that. This may be the reason why a few months ago when I was wondering about who I helped and who I didn't, I got so fixated on Philip. In fact, when Philip came to mind I began to lose interest in contacting other patients.

"Hey, look at the time. I hate to bring this meeting to an end, but we've got to stop. Good meeting--I know I've got a lot to

think about--Tony, you opened up some things for me. Thanks."

"So," said Tony with a grin, "am I excused from paying

today?"

"Blessed is he who gives," said Julius. "But who knows?--

keep on like this and that day may come."

After leaving the group room the members chattered on the outside steps of Julius's home before dispersing. Only Tony and Pam

headed toward the coffee shop.

Pam was fixated on Philip. She was not mollified by Philip's

statement that she had been unlucky to have met him. Moreover, she hated his compliment on her interpretation of the parable and hated even more that she had enjoyed getting it. She worried that the group was swinging over to Philip--away from her, away from Julius.

Tony felt elated--he voted himself the MVP--the meeting's

most valuable player; maybe he'd skip the bar scene tonight--try to read one of the books Pam had given him.

Gill watched Pam and Tony walk down the street together.

He (and Philip of course) were the only ones Pam had not hugged at the end of the meeting. Had he crossed her too much? Gill

turned his attention to tomorrow's wine-tasting event--one of

Rose's big nights. A group of Rose's friends always got together at this time of the year for a sampling of the year's best wines. How to negotiate that? Just swish the wine and spit it out? Pretty tough to pull that off. Or come right out with the truth? He thought of his AA sponsor: he knew how the conversation between them would

go:

Sponsor:
Where're your priorities? Skip the event, go to a meeting.

Gill:
But wine tasting is the reason these friends get together.

Sponsor:
Is it? Suggest another activity.

Gill:
Won't work. They won't do it.

Sponsor:
Then get new friends.

Gill:
Rose won't like it.

Sponsor:
So?

Rebecca said to herself: Real stuff in, real stuff out. Real stuff in, real stuff out. Must remember that. She smiled when she thought about Tony counting his money when she had talked about her flirtation with whoredom. Secretly she had gotten a kick out of that. Was it bad faith to accept an apology from him?

Bonnie, as always, hated to see the meeting come to an end.

She was alive those ninety minutes. The rest of her life seemed so tepid. Why was that? Why must librarians lead dull lives? Then she thought about Philip's statement about what you are, what you

have, and what you represent to others. Intriguing!

Stuart relished the meeting. He was entering full-bodied into

the group. He repeated to himself the words he had said to Rebecca about how her looks served as a barrier to knowing her and that he had recently seen something deeper than her skin. That was good.

That was good. And telling Philip that his cold kind of consolation had made him shiver. That was being more than a camera. And then there was the way he had pointed out the tension between

Pam and Philip. No, no, that was camera stuff.

On his walk home Philip struggled to avoid thinking of the

meeting, but the events were too heady to screen out. In a few minutes he caved in and permitted his thoughts free rein. Old

Epictetus had caught their attention. He always does. Then he

imagined hands reaching out and faces turned toward him. Gill had become his champion--but not to be taken seriously. Gill

wasn't for him but instead was against Pam, trying to learn how to defend himself against her, and Rose, and all other women.

Rebecca had liked what he had said. Her handsome face lingered briefly in his mind. And then he thought of Tony--the tattoos, the bruised cheek. He had never met anyone like him--a real

primitive, but a primitive who is beginning to comprehend a world beyond everydayness. And Julius--was he losing his sharpness?

How could he defend attachment while acknowledging his

problems of overinvestment in Philip as a patient?

Philip felt jittery, uncomfortable in his skin. He sensed that he was in danger of unraveling. Why had he told Pam that she was unlucky to have met him? Is that why she had spoken his name so often in the meeting--and demanded that he face her? His former debased self was hovering like a ghost. He sensed its presence, thirsting for life. Philip quieted his mind and slipped into a walking meditation.

33

S

u

f

f

e

r

i

n

g

,

R

a

g

e

,

P

e

r

s

e

v

e

r

a

n

c

e

_________________________

To
the

learned

men

and