'Tis the season, like it or not, when memories of bygone years with family and loved ones are resurrected. The memories rise from recesses, dusty or dank, to herald, hearken, or haunt like recurring spirits, in whichever ways we choose. Are they memories of feasting and togetherness? of love and affection and generosity? or of neglect and abuse, chaos and confusion? Are they a mixture? Or have you erased the memories, every one, leaving only a hazy blur? Whether your seasonal past contains cherished reminiscences or nightmarish horrors, the good news is that this year's, here-and-now, present day Holiday doesn't have to be hellish; and it doesn't have to be chock full of unrealistic, unattainable expectations.

The reality is: Those days are gone (presumably, if you've truly left home). But perception and reality are two resources we often have to separate in "special" times such as these. If you feel anxious, depressed, angry, resentful, or confounded, instead of lighthearted, hopeful, grateful, and uplifted, then let's look at what is actually going on in the present. And let's separate it from the family traumas of the past. In other words, if you're feeling messed up over this year's festivities, chances are you've got a big, ol' sack of something to set down and walk away from. In other words, to quote the famous counseling axiom, "It's not about what it's about." There's a Zen proverb that says it in a slightly different way:

If we are objective, regardless of the psychological, emotional, or spiritual straits we find ourselves navigating in this or any other time of year, we have a lot to feel fortunate about. Making a list of these and taking time to be grateful to have what we have can be a big help in separating out the ickiness we bring with us into this current celebration. Whether you express thanks to someone, something, or everyone, or everything, it's not really them you're doing this for. For our purposes (feeling better) gratitude is its own reward.

I know someone who comes from a family of over-thankers. I don't know if this phenomenon was covered in a "Seinfeld" episode, but the importance and timing of a regular thank-you certainly was. Attention to this detail from a "show about nothing" might seem insignificant, but isn't it the little things that add up and make our neuroses what they are? It would be hard to measure the psychic damage caused by the stress of being thanked repeatedly for small favors, in person, on the phone, and in writing, and by being required to respond in kind, thanking over and over again, for anything and everything, no matter how great or small, and not knowing when enough thanks has been enough. Was this overcompensation from missing gratitude in this family's past or was some other passive-aggressive mechanism being played out? Who knows? But this is just one example of the pitfalls surrounding our society's relationship to gratitude.

Voltaire was the Age of Enlightenment's premier French philosopher and satirist who wrote 2,000 books and pamphlets, and 20,000 letters. He is perhaps best known for his novel, Candide, a sweeping tale of love and loss, the quest for happiness, and the meaning of life. It is difficult to find a portrait of him in which he is not smiling.

The quote above exemplifies the depth of meaning that can be derived by spending a little time thinking about the implications of such a simple act as giving thanks. He mused further about a similar subject, about another of our stubborn attachments to ego when he commented on the way we cling to counterproductive, "tried-and-true" ways of going about our lives--either alone or in our various groupings--as follows: "It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere."

What does it mean to give thanks? Each of will have a slightly different take, depending on our experiences with giving and taking. If you were raised in a family where thanks were never enough to prove you understood how fortunate (if undeserving) you were, then being thankful might leave a sour taste behind. On the other hand, if nothing you ever did seemed worthy of appreciation, then it's possible no one can thank you enough.

Regardless what "Thanksgiving" means to you, or what spirits the holiday or the concept might conjure up, now or any time of year, why not do a little rethinking? Check in and see where you stand today on the subject. If you find yourself reacting to bygone times, then contemplate if your attitudes could use some updating. The exercise can only help you, and it could do some good for those in your circle. When you let go of expectations and resentments, see if the air around you clears. Here's hoping the newness you create around you will be cause for celebration!

I have a question for you. Actually, I have ten. These ten simple questions, if you answer them, have the power to open new vistas—internally and externally. They are indeed simple, but they're not at all easy to answer. In fact, they are impossible to answer. No, they are not Zen koans. I will not ask you, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" That's not the kind of question I'm talking about. These are existential questions. What is existentialism? (That's not one of the questions.) The existentialists were philosophers and thinkers who pondered the imponderable. I hope that clears it up for you. If that doesn't clear it up for you, please look into the works of these inner explorers. You'll recognize their names: Sartre, Kierkegaard, Heidegger, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Kafka, Buber, Camus, and many more. Their predecessors paved the way for this new way to look at human existence. You can see the seeds of their ideas in the works of Thoreau, Pascal, and all the way back to Socrates.


In our group, we help one another ponder, explore, expose, and extract meaning. I believe that meaning is what's missing when symptoms sound their alarm bell so loud and clear. That's why I call this an existential group. And as we have discovered in group, over and over, what's most important is not the answers we come up with, but the questions themselves. This is because our answers to any given question, problem, issue, situation, or emergency, will change. It will depend on the situation, on the day, and on our mental/emotional/spiritual state at the time. Our answers will also change depending on who is with us (or against us). The important thing is our process of thinking about, working on, contemplating, dealing with, and even fighting with the question itself. As with most important matters in life, the process is king and the product is the jester.

Wednesday, we discussed a member's existential crisis. While these can seem to come from nowhere, they often come at a transition point, or after a confluence of negative events, or as a decision deadline approaches. It probably isn't polite to call the unconscious mind "nowhere," so let's agree that emotional crises are not spontaneous. They are strong signals from deep in our psyche, where passion and direction, though often dormant, reside--safe and sound, though restless.

The inevitable existential turning points are like rites of passage; we can only avoid them so long. The longer we try and put them off, the more urgent they become. Just as the questions we must all ask ourselves, when push comes to shove, will not be silenced indefinitely, our psychic disturbances will not be quelled forever—as much as we'd like to forget they're down there.

I have asked these questions to many clients over the years, and no two answers have ever been alike. But I have noticed that there are three basic reactions to these questions in general. The most common reaction is, "These are hard." The second most common reaction is, "These questions are weird" (or "I've never thought about this"). The least common reaction is, "I've thought about this stuff a lot (but I don't know if I've figured anything out yet)." Regardless of what your reaction might be to being exposed to these weird questions, the good news is, no matter what you think about them, they are just as important and as difficult as you want to make them. 

You will find the ten questions at the end of this piece. I hope you will spend some time with them and write your answers down. Just contemplating your responses is valuable, but you engage a different, deeper part of your insight processes when you tap into those mysterious mechanisms in your brain that converts thoughts into ink. As you read what you've written, yet another complex set of electrochemical processes is utilized. You may have had the experience of journaling or otherwise scribbling down your thoughts (maybe in a letter to someone close) and being surprised. It is an absolute truth, I believe, that we don't completely know what we think until we take the time to write it down. I don't know why this is, but I imagine a neuroscientist would have an idea or two on the subject. (It will have something to do with 86 billion neurons working together, probably—for what that's worth.)

After you write a page or two per question, go over your answers with a friend, a loved one, or a therapist. You can expect to spend anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour per answer. As you attempt to put your deepest impulses about these unanswerable conundrums to the test (you're looking for your personal truth, remember), more questions will arise, as will more attempts at answers. And so it will go. From now until you stop caring about what your psyche needs to tell you. But if you ever do stop caring, please be prepared for unpleasant symptoms; and more crises of an existential nature.

I have one last piece of advice on the subject of hunting for your inner truth, or path, or road map, or Self, or purpose, or raison d'être; and it is to have fun! Adventures of this kind can be tedious or confusing or even scary, but they might just help you explain something fundamental that you've been overlooking; something that keeps nagging at you, maybe even throwing you into crisis. You might be on your way to finding the reason we're here, so why not enjoy the ride? That's what I'm trying to do, anyway.

Every day we wake up with two trolls at the foot of our bed. One is named Defeat and the other Procrastination. We open our eyes and the first voice we hear is Defeat's. "You can't do it," he says. "You aren't good enough, not smart enough, not strong enough, not deserving enough, not anything enough. You are not enough to do what you want or even need to do. Give up."

The other troll, Procrastination, speaks next. "If you insist on doing something, anything, whether you want to or even need to, do it tomorrow. Go back to sleep. That thing you want or even need to do is not going anywhere. It'll be there when you're ready. But you're not ready now. Why not wait a day? It's hard enough to just think about. That will be enough for today. Just think about it. And wait."

If there is evil in our lives, it starts with these trolls. They corrupt our positive nature, they detour us from our path, and they do it with robust perseverance. But why? Where did they come from? What do they want? Why are they so persistent and hard to deal with? These are the questions we all must face daily. Many of us, the fortunate ones, the ones with sufficient stores of energy and resilience, the ones who have made peace with their histories, the ones who have done the necessary self-work, these fortunate ones are not much bothered by these trolls. They hear their voices, they tell them to back off, they swing their feet onto the floor, and they go about their day.

These people know the provenance of the morning beasts, they know why they continue to come, and they know that they can be controlled. But when we are in the habit of listening to these voices, or worse, believing them, our day is not our own. We do not get to answer the questions about what they want with us and why, because we fall into their insidious traps. We give in, and believe their lies.

I learned the metaphor of the two trolls from the eminent Jungian analyst, James Hollis. If you are interested in hearing more of his interpretations of Carl Jung's ideas about what makes us do the things we do, and believe the things we believe, and feel the way we feel, you should check him out. His hero's journey is all about using these powerful psychodynamic tools to uncover the real Self we have deep within us, and with that uncovering, to reach ever closer to the fulfillment we somehow know is attainable.

We are grateful to those who risk so much
 Who choose to stay here with us awhile longer
We are honored to be part of their decision
We try to listen well and to share what pain we can
We watch reverently as they manage to endure the passages
From one momentous milestone to the next
And we strive to make this place we share between us
Somehow worthwhile

Imagine I am a parent who has just realized that my teenager is lost to me, that all the influence I have tried to bestow has not had the desired effect; that all of my reasoning and arguing and urging and insisting has been a waste of time; that my point of view just doesn't matter; that we live in two different worlds, without a safe bridge joining the two. When that happens, the devastation is pervasive.

Now turn this scenario around. Imagine I am a teenager who has finally realized that my parent is lost to me; that everything I've tried to say to make myself understood; that all of the bridge building I have attempted—unskilled though it may have been—has yielded nothing but misunderstanding, alienation, and hurt. In both cases, there comes a time when we declare that enough is enough. We have tried. We can’t try any more. I am alone. My child is missing. I am an orphan. These are two sides of the same coin. When empathy and compassion are replaced by self-righteousness and entitlement, there can be no détente. We are both strangers in a strange land. We are alone.

Do you remember the movie (and the TV show), "Alien Nation?" It was about a future in which aliens lived among us. They were persecuted and misunderstood, but we were forced to integrate them into our society. We had no choice and neither did they. They were stuck here and had no way back; we were stuck with their situation, stuck with them, for good. How many of us feel like aliens, or like we're living with one? Why do you think so many people think they see UFO's? Is it because we long for answers from beyond? Answers about who these creatures we live among are, or who we ourselves have become? Before the Space Age, people saw angels. Were we hoping that they held the answers that still have not been forthcoming?

Every Wednesday evening, our group wrestles with aliens: The alien lifeforms we live with or the ones we grew up with. We wrestle with the unearthly memories of conflict and futility in our families of origin, in school, out in the world. And we wrestle with the that alien inside us: The alien we were in our earlier years, the alien we present as we navigate the mysterious terrains of this society we find ourselves in, the alien we see in the mirror. We see all the humans out there, coping and thriving and adapted to this planet so naturally. We wonder what they must think of our strange tentacles, our odd shapes, our strange characteristics. And then one or two of the humans will join our group. They seem so normal, so typical of the species, so well-adjusted. Sure, they have certain issues. Humans are known for that. But why have they come? This is a group for aliens. Are they here to spy on us? To make fun of us? To judge us?

And then we find out that they see themselves as aliens too. And that they see us as the humans! What kind of world is this? Everything is backwards and inside-out! It that's the case, then maybe we do belong. Maybe what we thought of as normal was just something we hadn't looked at in detail. Maybe the thoughts, feelings, and behaviors we couldn't wrap our heads around in our parents or our children or even in ourselves were not so strange after all. Maybe it's just a matter of understanding. Of inner exploration. Imagine a world like that.

"There is another world, and it is this one."
Paul Éluard