So, while I’m on this journey to re-explore human relationships, the concept of spiritual family keeps re-surfacing in my readings and pursuits lately. To be honest, its really annoying. Most things worth re-working in my life, though, typically are.
I’ve been permitting myself to succumb to my introverted nature for quite some time now. It has its advantages, certainly, especially as a writer. What I’m discovering, though, is that I’m isolating human interactions (outside of my circle of friends) to cold, clinical processes. Once again, I’m making my living as a counselor, and I suppose that has thrown me into this crisis of reconciling the two halves or myself: the analytical and the creative.
I was reading some material of therapeutic techniques with children last week, a Canadian publication that was a few years old, but still with valid research. I noticed that I had a lot of problems with the fact that everything was reduced to the scientific explanation of which synapses and connections of the child’s brain were enforced by which behaviors. I was actually disturbed, because, while that explains how it happens, it doesn’t explain what happens. As usual, the scientific explanation is a wholly limited perspective.
I guess where I’m going with this is that relating to humans in an art. It is best approached passionately and creatively, the same as a poem or painting.
I’m not degrading the scientific. It serves as a set of tools for the process, the same as a painter must use a brush, or a theatre designer must use lighting instruments. With every art there is technique, and the art of human relationships utilizes the technique of psychology. Artists who only utilize technique, however, leave out a critical component of their art. They forget the spontaneity, the creative synergy that happens in the midst of the creative process. Clinical interactions are the same. I’m glad I’m finding myself forced into more interactions, both in a professional setting, and in my family of faith, because it is forcing me outside of my reclusiveness.
Because, at the end of the day, I still want to be like the guy who gave me the coffee. I’m just not sure what that looks like yet.