intimacy. I think you care enough about Pam to be angry at her.»

Julius knew Philip would not answer on his own and nudged

him. «Philip?»

Shaking his head, Philip replied, «I don`t know how to

assess your hypothesis. But there is something else I want to say. I

confess that, like Pam, I also have been looking for comforting or

at least relevant things to say to you. I have followed

Schopenhauer`s practice of ending each day reading from the

works of Epictetus or from the Upanishads.» Philip glanced in

Tony`s direction. «Epictetus was a Roman philosopher of the

second century, and the Upanishads are an ancient sacred Hindu

text. The other night I read a passage from Epictetus that I thought

would be of value, and I`ve made copies of it. I`ve translated it

loosely from the Latin into current vernacular.» Philip reached into

his briefcase, handed out copies to each member, and then, eyes

closed, recited the passage from memory.

When, on a sea voyage, the ship is brought to anchor, you go

out to fetch water and gather a few roots and shells by the way.

But you always need to keep your mind fixed on the ship, and

constantly to look around, lest at any time the master of the

ship call, and you must heed that call and cast away all those

things, lest you be treated like the sheep that are bound and

thrown into the hold.

So it is with human life also. And if there be available

wife and children instead of shells and roots, nothing should

hinder us from taking them. But if the master call, run to the

ship, forsaking all those things, and without looking behind.

And if thou be in old age, go not far from the ship at any time,

lest the master should call, and thou be not ready.

Philip ended and held out his arms as though to say, «There

it is.»

The group studied the passage. They were bewildered. Stuart

broke the silence, «I`m trying, but, Philip, I don`t get it. What`s the

value of this for Julius? Or for us?»

Julius pointed to his watch. «Sorry to say we`re out of time.

But let me be teacherly and make one point. I often view a

statement or act from two different points of view—from

itscontent and from itsprocess —and byprocess I meanwhat it tells

us about the nature of the relationship between the parties

involved. Like you, Stuart, I don`t immediately understand

thecontent of Philip`s message: I`ve got to study it, and maybe the

content can be a topic in another meeting. But I know something

about theprocess. What I know, Philip, is that you, like Pam, were

thinking about me, wanted to give me a gift, and you went to some

lengths to do it: you memorized the passage and you made copies.

And the meaning of that? It`s got to reflect your caring about me.

And what do I feel about it? I`m touched, I appreciate it, and I look

forward to the time when you can express your caring in your own

words.»

_________________________

Life can be

compared to a

piece of

embroidered

material of

which, everyone

in the first

half of his

time, comes to

see the top

side, but in

the second

half, the

reverse side.

The latter is

not so

beautiful, but

is more

instructive

because it

enables one to

see how the

threads are

connected

together.

_________________________

When the group left, Julius watched them walk down his front

stairs to the street. Rather than peel off singly to their parked cars,

they continued in a clump, undoubtedly on their way to the coffee

shop. Oh, how he would have liked to grab his windbreaker and go

flying down the stairs to join them. But that was another day,

another life, another pair of legs, he thought, as he crept down the

hall heading toward his office computer to enter his notes on the

meeting. Suddenly, he changed his mind, walked back into the

group room, took out his pipe, and enjoyed the aroma of rich

Turkish tobacco. He had no particular purpose other than simply to

bask for a few minutes more in the embers of the group session.

This meeting, like the last three or four, had been riveting.

His thoughts drifted back to the groups of breast cancer patients he

had led so long ago. How often had those members described a

golden period once they overcame the panic of realizing that they

were truly going to die. Some said living with cancer had made

them wiser, more self–realized, while others had reordered their

priorities in life, grown stronger, learned to say no to activities they

no longer valued and yes to things that really mattered—such as

loving their family and friends, observing the beauty about them,

savoring the changing seasons. But what a pity, so many had

lamented, that it was only after their bodies were riddled with

cancer that they had learned how to live.

These changes were so dramatic—indeed one patient had

proclaimed, «Cancer cures psychoneurosis»—that on a couple of

occasions Julius impishly described only the psychological

changes to a class of students and then asked them to guess what

kind of therapy was involved. How shocked students were to learn

it was not therapy or medication but a confrontation with death that

had made the difference. He owed a lot to those patients. What a

model they were for him in his time of need. What a pity he

couldn`t tell them. Live right, he reminded himself, and have faith

that good things will flow from you even if you never learn of

them.

And how are you doing with your cancer? he asked himself.

I know a lot about the panic phase which, thank God, I`m now

coming out of even though there are still those 3A.M. times when

panic grips with a nameless terror that yields to no reasoning or

rhetoric—it yields to nothing except Valium, the light of breaking

dawn, or a soothing hot–tub soak.

But have I changed or grown wiser? he wondered. Had my

golden period? Maybe I`m closer to my feelings—maybe that`s

growth. I think, no,I know I`ve become a better therapist—grown

more sensitive ears. Yes, definitely I`m a different therapist.

Before my melanoma I would never have said that I was in love

with the group. I would never have dreamed of revealing such

intimate details of my life—Miriam`s death, my sexual

opportunism. And my irresistible compulsion to confess to the

group today—Julius shook his head in amazement—

that`ssomething to wonder about, he thought. I feel a push to go

against the grain, against my training, my own teaching.

One thing for sure, they didnot want to hear me. Talk about

resistance! They wanted no part of my blemishes or my darkness.

But, once I put it out, some interesting stuff emerged. Tony was

something else! Acted like a skilled therapist—inquiring whether I

was satisfied with the group`s response, trying to normalize my

behavior, pressing about «why now.» Terrific stuff. I could almost

imagine him leading the group after I`m gone—that would be

something—a college drop–out therapist with jail time in his past.

And others—Gill, Stuart, Pam—stepped up, took care of me, and

kept the group focused. Jung had other things in mind when he

said that only the wounded healer can truly heal, but maybe honing

the patients` therapeutic skills is a good enough justification for

therapists to reveal their wounds.