Poetic Moments in Psychotherapy

Imagine, it is the year 2047. Joseph and family are celebrating the 3rd birthday of his grandson, Conrad. Happiness and harmony rule the event. Now imagine it is 31 years earlier and you are Joseph’s Psychotherapist. He is attending treatment solely due to pressure from his family, who along with Joseph, have been negatively affected by his alcoholism. He doesn’t see there’s a problem and is completely unaware that his life is literally on the line. You are doing your best to keep him in therapy so he will recognize his serious alcohol problem, a tall order indeed. You face this challenge while sitting with Joseph in the isolation of your office. Yet, you two are not alone. There are additional seats, however not in the usual sense. Imagine there’s no walls or ceiling to your office. Invisible to mere mortals is an apparition-like, circular row of seating that surrounds you and Joseph. Each seat is next to and slightly higher than the last. They spiral upwards, broadening as they reach endlessly into the sky. Seated and looking down with piqued interest are Joseph's prospective descendants. Neither you, nor Joseph can see or hear them, yet they are captivated by every spoken word in session. They loudly applaud your confronting statements, while they agonize over Joseph’s denial. Imagine a multitude of souls, rooting and cheering for the success of Joseph’s therapy. Tens of thousands of onlookers, fully aware that should Joseph be unsuccessful at attaining recovery from his alcoholism, he’ll die within the year due to a horrific drinking and driving accident. Since Joseph had yet to have children, all his future descendants would fail to be born. One can only imagine their level of engagement to Joseph’s therapy, as his success means life for them! Although you may be a Therapist to one solitary person, the benefits can expand exponentially to others. How many moments loved by so many are created? A moment is born in 2047, as a beaming Conrad peddles his new tricycle on the colorful slates of Grandpa Joe’s patio. The End