Tuesday, 9 January, 1990
ME: Hullo; I'm Michael Edwards - but I suppose you know that. How are
you?
C: I'm very well, thank you. How are you?
ME: Okay, I guess. I guess I'm not a hundred percent, or else I wouldn't
be making all this effort to arrange sessions with you.
C: Is there anything specific you want to talk about with me?
ME: Well, yes, there are probably a million things I want to talk about
urgently, and one in particular at the moment; however, for now I just want to
get to know you. After all, we haven't met before.
C: Haven't we? I appear in many forms, not all easily recognizable, and I
think you might be surprised at how probable it is that we've met before, and
how often that may have been. Never mind; I grant that this is the first time
you've encountered me in the specific form I am now taking.
ME: Before we go any further, what's your name?
C: You can call me whatever you like.
ME: But what's really your name?
C: It's whatever you like to make it.
ME: I question whether you are real if you don't already have a name.
Everything real has a name of its own - not merely one I like to attach on the
spur of the moment. Maybe you are nothing more than a projection of my own
mind.
C: [WITH A CHUCKLE] Does that make me any less real? Maybe it makes me
more real.
ME: Okay, I think I get what you mean - the inner world of thought,
imagination, and spirit being more real than the outer physical world, and all
that. I'm open to that, and perhaps we'll discuss it one day, but I don't
want to beg that question now. In fact I'll be honest with you and admit that
I'm very sceptical of that now - much more than 10 years ago when I was more
into that sort of stuff.
What I meant is, I don't want to go to all this effort merely talking to
a fictitious product of my imagination, or of my wishful thinking, or to a
delusion or hallucination. That would get me nowhere. I don't really know
who you are, but I want to believe you are real, and really have something to
offer me. Something real, not just grandiose airy-fairy castles in the air.
Anyway, I didn't really want to get into heavy philosophy just yet. I'd
like to know your name, so I can have something to call you, and to focus my
mind on. I want you to be a real friend, a close friend I care about for his
own sake, not merely an impersonal advisor; and close friends always have a
name that you know and use.
C: Okay, fair enough. I see what you mean; a name you give me now
won't seem real, but just like something made up by you. I do have a name,
actually. You may call me Richard.
ME: Why all the fuss then?
C: If you look at what you've just typed, you'll see (if I may say so) that
it was you, not me, making a fuss about it. I was merely telling you that you
can call me whatever you like, which is perfectly true.
ME: All right; what I mean is, if you do have a name, like you just said,
why didn't you tell me that to begin with?
C: Because it isn't quite as black-and-white a matter as you seem to think.
I'm not human - not fully, anyway (and wouldn't you be disappointed if I was?).
You said yourself in the foreword to the record of this conversation that your
counsellor was big enough, as the need arises, to assume the role of your
unconscious mind, of angels, and of God, just to mention a few examples that you
cited. And this is true. But in order to do so, I have to be able to transcend
certain human limitations. One of these limitations is having a specific name
like Michael, or Richard, or Tom, Dick or Harry - or whatever.
Maybe God, angels, spirits, and the like have names which they use of
themselves and each other; but surely if such beings insisted on humans using
these names, and none other, it could become a hindrance to humans trying to
reach them, rather than a help. And if humans trying to reach them are
hindered, it hinders them too in their effort to reach the humans.
Think of those people who think God can only be called Jehovah, and the
Christ can only be called Jesus (or Jesus Christ, as if "Christ" were a mere
surname!). They think God and the Christ will only listen to those who use the
correct form of name.
Maybe you know better than this; but would you want God, or the Christ, or
the angels, or anyone else, to be like this? No, of course not. Well, it's the
same with me (whoever I am, and I think it would be better not to pursue the red
herring of debating who I am - not yet, anyway).
ME: I guess I see your point.
C: Of course; from what I know of you, I would expect as much. So of
course, in one sense, I have no name, or many names to different people, or even
to the same people at different times or in different situations.
Maybe I seemed a bit pernickety about my name just now, but I wanted to
make sure you understood in just what sense I have a name, and in what sense I
don't. If I let you think my name was Richard without further ado, it might
cause you to think of me as just another person, with all the limitations that
entails. I might just as well have blue eyes, and red hair, with a wart on my
neck, and with ingrown toenails. Perhaps I might have a few little quirks and
personality foibles such as a tendency to stutter when excited.
Perhaps I do have such things, and if so, presumably they will come to
light as we get to know each other better, and since you have said you want me
to be a real person to like, and not just an impersonal counsellor, perhaps it
is just as well to have a few quirks; however, too much of that would be a bit
of a distraction, and I don't want to encourage that sort of thing in your image
of me before its natural time by letting you think I have a specific name of
universal currency such as Richard.
However, I am quite happy that you should know me as Richard if that seems
right to you. But please remember what I said about names, and remember that
really I am too universal to have just one name for all time. It may be just as
well to ask yourself too whether your name is really Michael Edwards, or whether
that is just a convenient identifying label in your present circumstances.
Perhaps you and I are not as different in basic nature as it may appear on the
surface.
C: Are you a little bored?
C: Oh, you just stopped typing quite often, and you went back and added a
couple of sentences to a passage that was already typed, and altered the
page-formatting of the word-processing program you're typing this with, and did
a spell-check of the whole document - and just doodled round a bit.
ME: Oh. No, I'm not bored. The spell-checking, formatting, etc., are
things that had to be done anyway, although I admit they could have waited
till after the session was over. (Not that I need guidance for spelling; the
spell-checking is to pick up typing mistakes rather than spelling ones.)
But also I needed time to think. Obviously my own comments sometimes
need a bit of thought. Maybe yours don't in the same way, since I don't want
to put words into your mouth; but it's a bit like spirit mediums, you know: I
get a general impression of what you're conveying, and I wouldn't falsify that
knowingly, but it doesn't always come in exact words, and I still have to
think of the best way of wording it, and that sometimes takes time and a lot
of thought. That may also involve belatedly inserting into an earlier passage
a thought that was implicit, although it didn't come out in words immediately,
which accounts for the insertion I made. [b]
But if I appeared bored, maybe it was also because I haven't really got
into the way of this sort of thing. Our dialogue seems a bit humdrum somehow,
and even a little bit forced, which disappoints me a little; it's not
spontaneous and dynamic like the similar thing I did about five years ago,
which took off at once to a degree that could be called inspired.
ME: You remember? I didn't have a counsellor in that journal.
C: No, not by that name; but remember what I said about me wearing many
hats and appearing in many guises. Whether you were aware of it or not, I had a
hand in that journal, and in fact in two other diaries you kept at other times.
As for that journal you mentioned, maybe you didn't have a counsellor
called Richard (or any other name), but you had a similar conversation between
various parts of your personality such as the Pessimist, the Optimist, the
Child, the Adult, the Id, the Dreamer, the Rational Mind, the Judge, and so on,
together with other entities such as your Spirit, and God himself, with a
Chairman to run the meeting and keep things in order.
Don't some of those entities sound very similar to some of the roles you
said in the foreword to this journal I might take on? Be assured, I had a hand
in many of the entities on that earlier occasion. Indeed, as you get to know me
more in this journal, you will increasingly realize that we are not strangers at
all, but that you have known me all your life, if not for long before your
birth, and you have encountered me many times in your life, and not just in
diary or journal writings.
Just think of anything dear to you, everything that is most meaningful to
you, everything you have ever put your greatest and most cherished hopes in; I
am never far away from such things. I am always there waiting to help you at
any moment of your life - not just when you are deliberately trying to reach me
by means such as journals or diaries - and I will always wait, no matter how
many dark periods you go through, no matter how long I have to wait. I will
never give up hope for you, Michael, not even if it takes until the end of time;
I love you far too dearly to give up on you. I know you are feeling lost and
hopeless; but there is no such thing as an eternally hopeless and lost human
being (or any other type of being).
ME: Wonderful sentiments; just like my idea of the ideal loving God. But
how do I know such ideas are not just wishful thinking of mine projected onto
the persona I have created in you?
C: If you at present think that a possibility, I suppose you have no way
just now of knowing that it is not so. I'm not sure if I can on the spot
convince you otherwise. But I hope and believe that as our relationship
improves, you will come to realize that it is not so.
ME: I must admit that when you expressed those ideas just now about not
giving up hope, and all the rest, the humdrum quality I referred to started to
change a bit. But if humdrumness is to be the general pattern, I don't give
much for my chances of keeping on with this journal long enough for our
relationship to develop. You know what I'm like when it comes to keeping on
with things when they get tiring or dreary, no matter how important they are
as a whole.
C: Well, our relationship is not dependent on you keeping a journal; that
is just a technique for developing the relationship, one of many possible ones.
You are at liberty to stop the journal at any time you wish. However, I think
it is a very good method for you to use - possibly the very best one for now.
You are very good at expressing yourself in written words - probably better than
in speech - and you enjoy writing probably better than most other things in
life.
I know that your previous journal started with a bang and maintained its
drive and purpose for well over 100 pages, and that this one has started very
quietly by comparison. Things don't always happen the same way a second or
subsequent time round, but it doesn't mean it's of any less value or quality,
whatever the appearance may seem to indicate. Just because things are quiet so
far doesn't mean they will remain so. Things may get going even in just one
page of typing, for all we know; but even if it takes much longer, I can only
urge you to persist, even if it frankly bores you to sobs. If you do, things
have to get better sooner or later; nothing remains the same forever, and if
things are really bad, it at least means that when the change comes, it is much
more likely to be for the better than for the worse. It has to work,
because we both know you are good at this sort of thing. And at the very least,
you can take comfort in the fact that you will get lots of typing practice, if
nothing else. [c] But you see, it will work.
ME: I'm not so sure any more, especially as in recent years I seem to
have quite completely turned against anything that smacks of emotional
expression, finding it soppy and sissy, and just pathetically weak.
C: Well, the fact that you've started this journal shows that your turning
away is not quite as complete as you thought; however, if there has been a
turning away, perhaps now is the time to consider whether you should change
that.
I think you are comparing this journal too much with the other one, and
finding it lacking by comparison. It won't help you now to keep thinking like
that. Things were different then, and had to be handled in a different way.
And just consider what happened after about page 150. It just stopped
dead, in midstream. Perhaps you burned out. Perhaps the pace was so great, and
your mind and emotions so spinning with ideas to explore, that you couldn't keep
up with it and lost the thread.
As I remember it, you had (and still have), just after the last completed
page, lists of ideas to explore - dozens of them on all sorts of themes. I
think this caused a confusion which you put off and put off sorting out, until
so much time elapsed that you just lost the thread of the whole thing. The
journal literally collapsed under its own weight, and that is not really such a
good thing. A journal that is quiet, or at least phrenetic only some of the
time, is much more likely to last a long time, years even, and will in the
long run (even if not in the short run) cover more ground, and be more
productive.
ME: Why are you telling me this? What are you saying I should have done
in that journal?
C: Well, you did it the best way you knew how to; I'm not saying it was
wrong. But I'm asking you to consider whether there are other ways of doing
it that may work better. And my opinion (which is only my opinion, but you
obviously want to hear that or you wouldn't bother talking with me) is that the
earlier journal was too planned, and perhaps could have been more
spontaneous and intuitive.
ME: But what if I think of things that need to be discussed later on,
after the present matter is finished? Isn't it sensible to make a note of it
so I won't forget? That's all my list was that you mentioned.
C: Yes, I know. I understand your feelings about that, and I won't give
you the clichéd answer that you don't need to make a note, because if it's
really important, you'll remember it anyway, and if you don't remember it, it
wasn't important to begin with; I know you don't believe that, and I don't think
it's necessarily true anyway (if it were true, then there'd never be any place
for notes, memos, and so on, and there obviously is a place for them).
Yes, making notes can be useful, but it can be overdone at times,
especially if it prevents you from being able to deal with what has to be done
now (not what has to be done in 5 minutes, 5 days, or 5 years).
I suggest you take a more free and easy approach this time, a more
spontaneous and unstructured approach; not always being full of plans to follow
in the right order, all listed in priority. After all, not only did the journal
suffer from these problems; your life does too, and that method doesn't seem to
have worked well so far.
I'm not saying that highly-planned approach is wrong; maybe you can
profitably go back to it one day, whether in your journal, or your life; but it
could be that something else is needed for now.
ME: You're asking a lot: you're asking me to turn a whole life-time of
thinking on its head all at once.
C: Not really. I'm not saying you should completely give up the old way;
but just try to do it less. For example, in this current journal, don't
completely give up your lists and plans if to do so really makes you that
uncomfortable; but try to get by with fewer of them; try to make sure you really
need them before you use them. In fact, every time you use a list or write down
a plan, just ask yourself whether you really need it, and only go ahead if the
answer is an honest "yes".
I'm not going to set rules on this, or anything else; you'll just have to
use your own judgement. I'm just saying, try to have times when you literally
don't know what you're going to talk about next, but just say what seems to come
up naturally on the spur of the moment. You may get a few surprises.
C: Perhaps not; but I don't think it'll be too bad. And writing that way
is much more likely to really tap your unconscious mind, or God, or the
spiritual forces that I am, according to you, supposed to be representing.
In its extreme form it becomes automatic writing, in which you write or
type so fast you don't have any time to think about what you're saying, and you
don't censor it in any way; and this is often considered a good way to get
messages from the unconscious mind or from the spirit world. You seem at first
to write utter rubbish, but if you can develop the ability to do automatic
writing like this (it takes a certain amount of practice), and you keep on long
enough, you find meaningful stuff coming out that you probably wouldn't have got
any other way.
Perhaps we'll try it one day; but for now perhaps you could try the more
modest goal of simply trying to write more spontaneously, without always being
burdened with plans that have to be followed in the right order.
ME: Well, I think I've fairly well succeeded this time. In this session
(which by the way will have to end soon, as I must get some sleep), I really
had no plans but to get to know you and get into the way of this sort of
writing. I really had only the haziest idea of what was going to come out;
there is something I want to discuss, but right from the beginning I decided
to make this the subject of our second session, not the first.
C: Okay; we'll see if you can do it that way some more. I think we can
finish up now; it's quite a convenient place to stop, and your interest is
waning, and the keyboard is starting to give trouble again.
ME: Yes, I'll have to open it up and poke it with a screwdriver again
like I did before, and maybe that'll make it good for another few hours.
C: Meanwhile the bad keyboard does give you another opportunity for an
exercise in spontaneity - just letting something go in the knowledge that it can
be fixed up later. And this exercise will probably save you some time too, if a
practical benefit helps it to interest you.
The bad keyboard is causing many typing mistakes, as you are only too
strongly aware of. Your typing is being considerably slowed down because you go
back and correct each error. Why not, next session (if the keyboard is still
bad), just leave the mistakes (as long as the real intention is obvious),
and go on typing fast - and correct the mistakes later, using the spell-check
feature if it helps, or the global search-and-replace, or whatever method is
best?
I know that knowingly leaving the mistakes will itch like anything, and
probably result in a little swearing -
ME: More than a little, I'm afraid.
C: Okay, whatever. Much swearing, if that helps. But if you just try it,
perhaps you can learn to accept the mistakes temporarily without being unduly
disturbed by them, because you know you can later correct them, and perhaps it's
just another little way of learning how to let things go for the time being
instead of having to have everything perfect instantly, which ties in with the
spontaneity I was talking about before.
And if none of that counts much for you (and I have a ghost of a feeling it
doesn't), at least I am sure that correcting all your mistakes at once at the
end, instead of bit by bit during the typing, will save you some time, and will
probably improve your concentration on what you're actually saying. Your
stopping to correct mistakes may be contributing to the humdrum feeling you
complained of before.
ME: Perhaps I shouldn't be typing a journal, but writing it by hand. I
know that some people believe that; they have some vague theory that it's more
personal, and that typing is too impersonal and mechanical. I've never found
that theory very credible though.
C: It's a belief, or rather an attitude, some people have, and for them,
because they believe it, typing may indeed spoil their writing. However, if you
don't believe it, I don't see that you have to worry about it. You don't have
to accept the beliefs of others unless you want to.
However, not for that reason, but because of your keyboard and the mistakes
it causes you to make, I do suggest that if you can't just let the mistakes go
until later, you should either get the keyboard fixed, or get access to another
one, or write your entries by hand until you can do one of the other things.
Moreover, not all your mistakes now are due to this. Mistakes due to
tiredness are positively mangling my words, [d] so I think you should stop now and
go to bed. I've enjoyed talking to you, and I hope you've enjoyed talking to
me. I'm always ready for more whenever you are; but it's time to stop now.
ME: Yes, you're right. Well, Richard, thank you for your time, and
goodbye. Your name somehow sounds funny to me.
C: Good night Mike - or well into morning now. My name shouldn't sound
funny - you chose it and gave it to me. There's a parting idea to think about.
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