Deepening Psychoanalytic Listening: The Marriage of Buddha and Freud

Freud (1912) delineated the ideal state of mind for therapists to listen, what he called “evenly hovering” or “evenly suspended attention.” No one has ever offered positive recommendations for how to cultivate this elusive yet eminently trainable state of mind. This leaves an important gap in training and technique. What Buddhism terms meditation—non-judgmental attention to what is happening moment-to-moment—cultivates exactly the extraordinary, yet accessible, state of mind Freud was depicting. But genuine analytic listening requires one other quality: the capacity to decode or translate what we hear on the latent and metaphoric level—which meditation does not do. This is a crucial weakness of meditation. In this chapter I will draw on the best of the Western psychoanalytic and Eastern meditative traditions to illuminate how therapists could use meditation to cultivate “evenly hovering attention” and how a psychoanalytic understanding of the language and logic of the unconscious complements and enriches meditative attention.     

Embodied female experience through the lens of imagination

Abstract: In 1971, I made a film entitled Self Portrait of a Nude Model Turned Cinematographer in which I explore the objectifying ‘male’ gaze on my body in contrast to the subjective lived experience of my body. The film was a radical challenge to the gaze that objectifies woman – and thus imprisons her – which had hitherto dominated narrative cinema. Since the objectification of women has largely excluded us from the privileged phallogocentric discourses, in this paper I hope to bring into the psychoanalytic dialogue a woman's lived experience. I will approach this by exploring how remembering this film has become a personally transformative experience as I look back on it through the lens of postmodern and feminist discourses that have emerged since it was made. In addition, I will explore how this process of imaginatively looking back on an artistic creation to generate new discourses in the present is similar to the transformative process of analysis. Lastly, I will present a clinical example, where my embodied countertransference response to a patient's subjection to the objectifying male gaze opens space for a new discourse about her body to emerge.     

'My capital secret': Literature and the psychoanalytic agon

Taking as my departure point Freud 's unequivocal claim in The Question of Lay Analysis that psychoanalytic education should include "the history of civilization, mythology, the psychology of religion, and the science of literature" ( Freud, 1926b, p . 246), I advocate for an integration of psychoanalysis with the arts, the humanities, and the social sciences in psychoanalytic training. Foundations in these fields are not only acceptable as preliminary to clinical training but will also provide the diverse intellectual climate that is urgently needed in psychoanalytic institutes whose discursive range is often quite narrow. To provide one example of the salutary effect of such disciplinary integration on clinical practice, I illustrate how the transformative power of literature provides compelling metaphors for the psychoanalytic encounter. Through an example drawn from within my own experience as literary critic and psychoanalyst, I describe the ways that the troubling tensions in Milton's Samson Agonistes functioned to illuminate, for me, an analysand 's 'capital secret'.     

Like a phoenix from the ashes – or “sack cloth and ashes”?:1 The reconstitution of psychoanalytic institutions in Germany since 1945 and its consequences

Abstract

Here, I attempt to formulate some thoughts about the past, present, and future of psychoanalysis and its institutions in Germany. To do this, I have employed my varied experience as a supervisor and consultant to many such psychoanalytic institutes over the past several years. Themes discussed include the history of psychoanalysis in postwar Germany, the organizational structure of German psychoanalytic institutes, and their cultures in regard to group and organizational dynamics, and political and economic aspects. Finally, I add brief thoughts about the future, taking into account recent developments relating to planned changes in laws governing psychotherapy in Germany. Further, I attempt to analyze and comment on: coming to terms with the past; how to begin after the “Zero Hour”; the form of organization of psychoanalytic institutes in Germany; missing patients and missing candidates; constructive debate and hurting people’s feelings; the lack of “detoxification” and “recycling” of the poisonous remains of psychoanalytic processes; and the future of psychoanalytic institutions in Germany. I end with an example of a typical primary task used in conducting large groups in the institutes in which I worked, and include an anonymized table listing individual interventions, their duration, and frequency. These should provide an idea of my way of working, and an overview of the dimensions of the task.     

The Search for Integration or How to Work as a Pluralist Psychoanalyst

In my professional path, I strove for the integration of my identity as a psychiatrist and as a psychoanalyst, in the frame of pluralism, which exists in modern psychoanalysis. Having been trained in a Kleinian approach, I will explore the painful breach experienced during my parallel trainings as a psychoanalyst and as a dynamic psychiatrist. I worked for five years as a psychoanalyst and a researcher in Germany and was involved to a large extent with the psychoanalytic world, which increased my self-definition as a pluralist. On my return to Chile, I discovered the need for political changes in the psychoanalytic society and curricular modifications in my training institute to recover psychoanalysis from its academic isolation. Finally, I will analyze the extant connections between the ideology of pluralism in psychoanalysis and its application in clinics. I will show that the exploration of the inference processes of the psychoanalyst inside a session—the psychoanalyst's mind at work—demonstrates that the analyst in fact functions as an artisan thinker. This means that pluralism—that is, the use of more than one theoretical frame and of different levels of abstraction and explicitness—is the way the majority of psychoanalysts “naturally” work. What probably differs is the self-consciousness, scope, and rank of pluralism.     

Constructing and Understanding an Incident as a Social Problem: A Case Study of University Entrance Exam Cheating in Japan

The recent work of Frances Chaput Waksler—The New Orleans Sniper: A Phenomenological Case Study of Constituting the Other—demonstrates, by close examination of the case of the New Orleans Sniper of 1973, how people constitute and unconstitute an “Other” in certain situations. This paper explores the process by which people constituted the Other in Japan in February of 2011 through the course of an incident that surprised Japanese people: university entrance exam cheating by use of the Internet question-and-answer bulletin board. I will further examine how the incident can be constructed as a social problem with the construction of a victim and a villain. For data, I use reports from newspapers with nationwide circulation and reports from news agencies present at the time of the event. I also cite additional data from Internet news sites. Although my research here is small and elementary and my analysis is sociological rather than phenomenological, it is inspired by Waksler’s work. I will show how peoples’ commonsense knowledge frames their understanding and construction of an event. This paper will show that Waksler’s ideas about the New Orleans Sniper and her analysis of this case are applicable to another event in a different time at a different place: contemporary Japanese society.     

Dignity in Context,and Out: Discussion of Lynne Jacobs’ “On Dignity,a Sense of Dignity,and Inspirational Shame”

ABSTRACT

Dr. Lynne Jacobs’ “On Dignity, a Sense of Dignity, and Inspirational Shame” is an interdisciplinary integration of a priori ethics and a phenomenology of dignity. She contends that the human person’s engagement with other people—writ large in the therapeutic encounter—is inherently ethically situated. Moreover, she avers an inherent content to this ethics, namely, mutual respect for distinctively human value—dignity—between and among people. Her ethics of dignity informs her psychoanalytic exploration of experiences of dignity, indignity, and her notion of inspirational shame, among others. I join in Jacobs’ advocacy for therapeutic facilitation of a person’s sense of inherent worth, as well as her opposition to relational contexts of devaluation and degradation. However, the primordiality Jacobs grants to her ethics of dignity often obscures the constitutively cultural, familial, and personal contextuality of, first, her—and in my view, any—ethical conviction; second, what she describes as the experience of being human; third, the alleged indignity of human vulnerability; and finally, the claim that shame is the natural reaction to one’s failure to live up to personal ideals. In the end, and subject to certain clinical concerns, Jacobs’ article integrates into psychoanalysis primordial ethical duties that she and others claim inhere in us as human beings.     

On psychoanalytic figures as transference objects

One of the tasks that analysts and therapists face at a certain stage in their career is how to develop a way of psychoanalytic thinking and practising of their own. To do this involves modifying or overcoming the transferences established during their training or early career. These transferences are to one's teachers or training analyst, investing them with authority and infallibility, and to received theory, which is treated as though it were dogma. The need to free oneself from such transferences has been discussed in the literature. There is, however, another kind of transference that the developing therapist also needs to resolve, which has received little attention. This is the transference made on to a key figure in the psychoanalytic tradition. Such a psychoanalytic figure will be seen as the originator of or embodiment of those theoretical ideas to which one becomes attached, and/or as standing behind one's training analyst or seminal teachers who become a representative of that figure. The value of an investigation of one's relationship to a psychoanalytic figure is that it is an excellent medium for revealing one's transference, as the figure in question is not a real person but only exists through his/her writings. The body of the paper consists of an extended example of such an analysis, that of my own transference on to the figure of Winnicott. In this example I illustrate how my evaluation of Winnicott's ideas changed from seeing them as providing answers to all my clinical questions to no longer satisfying me in some areas of my work. This change in my relationship to Winnicott's theory went hand in hand with a modification in my transference on to the figure of Winnicott, from seeing him as endowed with authority and goodness to an appreciation of him as a still sustaining figure but now with limits and flaws. In the final part of the paper several questions arising out of my analysis are posed. Can the pull of writing such an account in terms of dramatic rupture rather than gradual and partial change be avoided? Should my account be regarded purely as a form of self‐analysis or does it have anything to say about Winnicott himself and his theory? And do some psychoanalytic figures attract more intense or sticky transferences than others?     

My Psychoanalytic Journey

In this article I describe the evolution of my psychoanalytic thought and my current perspective of psychoanalysis, after almost a half century of professional practice. For the most part, three ideas have guided this evolution: (1) considering the patient’s mind as the major source of knowledge; (2) my firm belief that the patient–analyst dialogue, taken from the Gadamerian point of view, is the best way to have access to the patient’s mind and also to that of the analyst himself; and (3) the notion that the mind constitutes an open, dynamic, and nonlinear system in constant interaction with the environment that surrounds it. In my writings, I have tried to show that the therapeutic action in the psychoanalytic process is formed by the therapist–patient interaction. I also propose that psychoanalysis must endeavor to be a social therapy, even as it treats individuals, and go beyond what is purely instinctual so as to emphasize what is particular to human beings and sets us apart from the other animal species.     

Languages of trauma; towards a phenomenological response

In this article, I explore the possibilities of a phenomenological perspective on trauma in psychoanalytic practice. I highlight the problem of interpretations that universalise experiences of trauma, provide explanations in terms of ‘causes’ and assume particular processes/stages of ‘recovery’ from it. The notion of trauma challenges dichotomies of ‘internal’ and ‘external’ worlds. Traumatic experiences always have a context – that of the immediate relational circumstances of the individual suffering from the trauma, including the wider social/relational context, and the person’s history. I argue for an attunement to the language and specificity of the meanings, verbal and non-verbal, conscious and unconscious, of the client’s suffering within the analytical relationship. This requires the therapist to avoid ‘ready-made’ interpretations from psychoanalytic theory and to be open to the poiesis of the speech, which emerges between therapist and client. My discussion of my reading of the Chilean documentary film, Nostalgia for the Light, which focuses on the traumatic experiences of those who survived Pinochet’s military regime (1973–1989), highlights how diverse responses to trauma are. The originality of the language of the film calls on us as therapists to discover new ways of listening and speaking to our clients’ suffering.     

Some reflections on the links between psychoanalysis and literature

Abstract

I taught literature to students from overseas for a number of years before entering the world of student counselling. Both experiences helped to develop and clarify thoughts that I had long held, albeit in a rather vague fashion, about the ways that literature and psychoanalytic thought can reflect our inner worlds. In the first part of this article I look at certain ideas that I think they have in common, what they both can illuminate and how they can contribute to opening up a therapeutic relationship. Then I give an example, from my work experience, of how I was able to draw on some of these ideas in such a relationship with a student. The psychoanalytic process and the reading of a literary text touch at frequent points: both are ways of finding out about oneself, about one's inner and outer worlds, and how they interact. They enable us to ‘read’ our experiences. They have, therefore, a certain congruence of direction towards self-knowledge. They search for a particular kind of understanding. In exploring the literary text one is discovering oneself, gaining insight into the complexities of the multifarious self. Katherine Mansfield, commenting on the creative act of writing, said that a writer tries to go deep, to speak to the secret self we all have (Lee 1985: xv). Symington (1986: 15) speaks in terms of psychoanalysis occurring ‘at the centre of the individual’, but occurring only ‘through a personal act of understanding’.     

States of Grace: A Relational Context for a Patient’s Coming Into Being

In this paper I explore what I am calling a “state of grace.” I describe how the convergence of a personal life event that left me more vulnerable—and more available—intersected with my patient Ruth’s fortuitous wish to resume a long-terminated treatment. This convergence allowed both my patient and me to repair the impact of early trauma and create a transcendent experience of new growth. The paper narrates how the process that unfolded became the medium through which Ruth, who felt a persistent experience of aloneness, allowed herself to feel, over time, the necessary primal experience of dependency and the subsequent overwhelming experience of basic need.     

Desiring (With) Bion: An Experience in Reading

This article considers my experience of reading Wilfred R. Bion’s book Learning from experience (1962) and how transference operates in and around his work. I argue that Bion’s work cannot simply be read but must be felt. I highlight the importance of Learning from experience for psychoanalytic practitioners becoming more self-reflexive about our theoretical and clinical practices, but also to bring attention to the process through which many of us come to Bion’s insights “first hand” if you like, which is through his writings, in our position as readers.     

Healing presence in the psychotherapist

Abstract

Throughout graduate school I felt compelled to become a fine psychotherapist. Implicit in that motivation was my curiosity about what makes a psychotherapist effective. My curiosity was inspired by my experience with one therapist who helped me activate profound transformation. After identifying intuitive inquiry (Anderson, 1998, 2000, 2004) as my research method, I explored that experience through meditation, reading, and conversation and eventually identified her healing presence as the core quality that differentiated her from other therapists I had known. Though technique and experience are important, I sensed that it was her healing presence that allowed her to use technique and experience skillfully. Throughout Cycle 1 of intuitive inquiry, the “text” that claimed me was my personal experience of her healing presence, her ability to be present, to connect with me, to see me, and even, to love me. Through intuitive inquiry, I was able to expand my understanding of the healing presence of a psychotherapist to incorporate the experiences of many others.     

Do We Find or Lose Ourselves in the Negative?

This paper pools the language of psychoanalysis with other disciplines to illuminate the very real and ephemeral experience of working with patients who experience states of nonbeing. Using the powerful imagery of Francesca Woodman’s photographs, my patient and I enter the breach in her mind that trauma creates. Barthes, Benjamin, and art criticism enable me to relate to my patient’s condition of trying to exist suspended between life and death.     

Creating the Freedom to Move: Reply to Goldberg and Grusky

In current times, more and more of us are seeing patients who are afraid and unable to make genuine contact with another human being. Their self is more undeveloped than false—more unrealized than broken—and the psychoanalytic, alchemical process of turning reality, truth, and lived experience into meaning often fails, as they wither in psychic encapsulation or retreat. Peter Goldberg and I address the project of how to develop the capacity to play—to help patients come into being and develop a self. Goldberg (this issue) highlights that the analyst’s animating presence and psycho-sensory engagement has alway been present in psychoanalytic processes but usually resides in the background of a treatment, but this crucial inductive dimension of the analytic method comes more to the foreground with the treatment of unintegrated patients. Zoe Grusky (this issue) discusses the medium of play therapy as a means to create transitional space. In my reply, I underscore that a critical component of the project of reclamation, or “inductive dimension” of the treatment with some melancholic patients, is for the analyst to help the patient separate from self-states of non-being that are also anti-life, by meeting the patient where she lives and survive being destroyed; this sort of object-usage is critical to building subjectivity and restoring faith in Life.     

In the Pursuit of Absence: Reimagining Early Loss within the Psychotherapy Relationship

In this paper I examine absence—absence as an internal relationship, absence as an enactment, absences characteristic of psychotherapy, absence as a theory, and absence as something people do to each other, including patients, therapists, families, and societies. To illustrate these ideas, I discuss my work with Gemma. When absence enters our relationship in a very present way, the powerful emotions that absence eludes come alive for us. Forced to confront my own absences, I begin doing a better job of holding her in mind, which ultimately helps her to hold me in mind and make better use of me.     

I. R. Owen. Psychotherapy and Phenomenology. New York: iUniverse,Inc.

Abstract

This study¹ explores the experience of the body for contemporary female mystics. It is an exploration in how women mystics of today—those who have devoted most of their lifetime to prayer, meditation, and spiritual service—make sense of the body. What is the relationship between spirit and body, God and flesh, for such women? Is it a relationship of tension or even opposition, and how does it evolve over time? These are some of the questions that guided my investigation. The impulse to understand how the body is experienced and understood by such women was felt by me as both a longing to challenge, deepen, and refine my awareness and understanding of spirit and the body, specifically for women mystics. I also felt this as a burning in the heart, an urgent desire to connect and bridge the larger world of matter and that of spirit, to inquire into that dimension where flesh and spirit are not two, but one. I believe that this impulse to understand the relationship between body and spirit is both personal and quite possibly collective. My hope is that this research will serve as one step to further our collective understanding of human embodiment.     

Engagement with meditation as a positive health trajectory: Divergent narratives of progress in male meditators

Objective: Studying personal narratives can generate understanding of how people experience physical and mental illness. However, few studies have explored narratives of engagement in health positive behaviours, with none focusing on men specifically. Thus, we sought to examine men’s experiences of their efforts to engage in and maintain healthy behaviours, focusing on meditation as an example of such behaviour.

Design: We recruited 30 male meditators, using principles of maximum variation sampling, and conducted two in-depth interviews with each, separated by a year. Main outcome measures: We sought to elicit men’s narratives of their experiences of trying to maintain a meditation practice.

Results: We identified an overall theme of a ‘positive health trajectory,’ in particular, making ‘progress’ through meditation. Under this were six main accounts. Only two articulated a ‘positive’ message about progress: Climbing a hierarchy of practitioners, and progress catalysed in other areas of life. The other four reflected the difficulties around progress: Progress being undermined by illness; disappointment with progress; progress ‘forgotten’ (superseded by other concerns); and progress re-conceptualised due to other priorities.

Conclusion: Men’s narratives reveal the way they experience and construct their engagement with meditation – as an example of health behaviour – in terms of progress.     

Heidegger in the township

Imagine Heidegger in a township. Imagine you are able to translate his concept of ‘care’ to ‘the people’. Would they agree that in their ordinary experience people care? I argue not and contend that, instead, they would choose the term ‘struggle’. I analyse experiential aspects of ordinary life in the context of the township, which involves a significant part of people around the world, in order to argue that, at least in such contexts, it is a more common experience for people to struggle than to care. In this way I hope to show how a phenomenological analysis of everyday life experience such as Heidegger's can contribute to the understanding of contextual issues, but also how a context can induce the introduction of new concepts of thinking.