guarantee. More likely, though, his mode of life was the active

emollient. Following Zarathustra`s path, he had shared his

ripeness, transcended himself by reaching out to others, and lived

in a manner that he would be willing to repeat perpetually

throughout eternity.

He had always remained curious about the direction the

therapy groups would take the following week. Now, with his last

good year visibly shrinking, all feelings were intensified: his

curiosity had evolved into an eager childlike anticipation of the

next meeting. He remembered how, years ago, when he taught

group therapy the beginning students complained of boredom as

they observed ninety minutes of talking heads. Later, when they

learned how to listen to the drama of each patient`s life and to

appreciate the exquisitely complex interaction between members,

boredom dissolved and every student was in place early awaiting

the next installment.

The looming end of the group propelled members to address

their core issues with increased ardor. A visible end to therapy

always has that result; for that reason pioneer practitioners like

Otto Rank and Carl Rogers often set a termination date at the very

onset of therapy.

Stuart did more work in those months than in three previous

years of therapy. Perhaps Philip had jump–started Stuart by serving

as a mirror. He saw parts of himself in Philip`s misanthropy and

realized that every member of the group, except the two of them,

took pleasure in the meetings and considered the group a refuge, a

place of support and caring. Only he and Philip attended under

duress—Philip in order to obtain supervision from Julius, and he

because of his wife`s ultimatum.

At one meeting Pam commented that the group never

formed a true circle because Stuart`s chair was invariably set back

a bit, sometimes only a couple of inches, but big inches. Others

agreed; they had all felt the seating asymmetry but never connected

it to Stuart`s avoidance of closeness.

In another meeting Stuart launched into a familiar grievance

as he described his wife`s attachment to her father, a physician

who rose from chairman of a surgery department, to medical

school dean, to president of a university. When Stuart continued,

as he had in previous meetings, to discuss the impossibility of ever

winning his wife`s regard because she continually compared him

to her father, Julius interrupted to inquire whether he was aware

that he had often told this story before.

After Stuart responded, «But surely we should be bringing

up issues that continue to be bothersome. Shouldn`t we?» Julius

then asked a powerful question: «How did you think we would feel

about your repetition?»

«I imagine you`d find it tedious or boring.»

«Think about that, Stuart. What`s the payoff for you in being

tedious or boring? And then think about why you`ve never

developed empathy for your listeners.»

Stuart did think about that a great deal during the following

week and reported feeling astonished to realize how little he ever

considered that question. «I know my wife often finds me tedious;

her favorite term for me isabsent, and I guess the group is telling

me the same thing. You know, I think I`ve put my empathy into

deep storage.»

A short time later Stuart opened up a central problem: his

ongoing inexplicable anger toward his twelve–year–old son. Tony

opened a Pandora`s box by asking, «What were you like when you

were your son`s age?»

Stuart described growing up in poverty; his father had died

when he was eight, and his mother, who worked two jobs, was

never home when he returned from school. Hence, he had been a

latch–key child, preparing his own dinner, wearing the same soiled

clothes to school day after day. For the most part, he had

succeeded in suppressing the memory of his childhood, but his

son`s presence propelled him back to horrors long forgotten.

«Blaming my son is crazy,” he said, «but I just keep feeling

envy and resentment when I see his privileged life.» It was Tony

who helped crack Stuart`s anger with an effective reframing

intervention: «What about spending some time feeling proud at

providing that better life for your son?»

Almost everyone made progress. Julius had seen this before;

when groups reach a state of ripeness, all the members seem to get

better at once. Bonnie struggled to come to terms with a central

paradox: her rage toward her ex–husband for having left her and

her relief that she was out of a relationship with a man she so

thoroughly disliked.

Gill attended daily AA meetings—seventy meetings in

seventy days—but his marital difficulties increased, rather than

decreased, with his sobriety. That, of course, was no mystery to

Julius: whenever one spouse improves in therapy, the homeostasis

of the marital relationship is upset and, if the marriage is to stay

solvent, the other spouse must change as well. Gill and Rose had

begun couples` therapy, but Gill wasn`t convinced that Rose could

change. However, he was no longer terrified at the thought of

ending the marriage; for the first time he truly understood one of

Julius`s favoritebon mots: «The only way you can save your

marriage is to be willing (and able) to leave it.»

Tony worked at an astonishing pace—as though Julius`s

depleting strength were seeping directly into him. With Pam`s

encouragement, strongly reinforced by everyone else in the group,

he decided to stop complaining of being ignorant and, instead, do

something about it—get an education—and enrolled in three night

courses at the local community college.

However thrilling and gratifying these widespread changes,

Julius`s central attention remained riveted on Philip and Pam. Why

their relationship had taken on such importance for him was

unclear, though Julius was convinced the reasons transcended the

particular. Sometimes when thinking about Pam and Philip, he was

visited by the Talmudic phrase «to redeem one person is to save

the whole world.» The importance of redeeming their relationship

soon loomed large. Indeed it became his raison d`ГЄtre: it was as

though he could save his own life by salvaging something human

from the wreckage of that horrific encounter years before. As he

mused about the meaning of the Talmudic phrase, Carlos entered

his mind. He had worked with Carlos, a young man, a few years

ago. No, it must have been longer, at least ten years, since he

remembered talking to Miriam about Carlos. Carlos was a

particularly unlikable man, crass, self–centered, shallow, sexually

driven, who sought his help when he was diagnosed with a fatal

lymphoma. Julius helped Carlos make some remarkable changes,

especially in the realm of connectivity, and those changes allowed

him to flood his entire life retrospectively with meaning. Hours

before he died he told Julius, «Thank you for saving my life.»

Julius had thought about Carlos many times, but now at this

moment his story assumed a new and momentous meaning—not

only for Philip and Pam, but for saving his own life, as well.

In most ways Philip appeared less pompous and more

approachable in the group, even making occasional eye contact

with most members, save Pam. The six–month mark came and

went without Philip raising the subject of dropping because he had

fulfilled his six–month contract. When Julius raised the issue,