Author: Dr. Hare

Dear Dr. Hare,

thanks so much for your reply. I just noted that you did not send me a season’s greetings card, and that you actually never do that. I still get cards from people I met in the distant past, before I decided to do only things I like, with people I like. That was in 1999. Some of the cards from before that time depress me – they remind me of how terrible “the human condition” can be. This year some cards were so bad that I dropped the idea of doing any such stuff myself. I considered posting a ‘worst of’- vs. a ‘best of’-collection on NFN, but I guess that would not be fair. Perhaps I should just post the attempt at poetry from my bank?

Very much looking forward to seeing you in your office between holidays.

J.

Dear Jens,

people who send “Happy Holidays” cards can be a bit tiresome, I know. They want to show you that, by now, they have five children who wear expensive clothes, will grow up to be important, and have another five kids of their own. Or they want to make clear that, economic crisis or not, they are doing great. Or they are sentimental, because their lives are full of nonsense, and for ten minutes a year, when they carry home their Christmas tree, they get to reflect on it, and then they sob and wonder whether they still have friends.

But I always think that some of the card-writers are just plain lonely, and hope that some other lost soul will respond. You need to be gracious.

We shall get over these days, as always. And I’ll see you next week.

Dr. Hare

Dear Dr. Hare,

it strikes me that Americans have raised competition to an art form. I don’t mean that Americans are more competitive than other people. It’s more about the idea of winning, and an interesting readiness to accept a complete lack of skill (I’m thinking of a TV show about people climbing Mount Everest – the idea that one should be a skilled climber doesn’t seem to figure in their motivations, it’s all about “personal achievement,” “winning a battle,” and so forth).

But what really interests me is the culture of competition here, the rituals, and the social codes, especially before and after the actual confrontation. For example in the political arena: People can beat the snot out of each other for months, but when that’s done that’s done – the winner is generous and humble, the loser is professional and displays some humor, and you move on. Then, when the time comes, you go another round. In comparison, political battles in European democracies seem quite awkward and clumsy. Too much resentment, too much dead-seriousness. And perhaps most fundamentally: no manners! There’s a game-like aspect to the culture here that I think I’m coming to like. It makes it easier for people not to be enemies. Or does it?

I hope this makes sense to you. I’m really interested how you, as a psychotherapist, see this.

Oh, and I got home safely from the last session, across the park through this crazy blizzard. I’m still embarrassed about how I showed up in your office, all cold and wet, like a mountain man.

Jens

Dear Jens,

it was interesting to get a sense of your mountain persona the other day, to see you covered in snow and quite liking it. I know what you mean about American adventure tourism. It’s not about skill, no. It’s more like a substitute for therapy: fighting your “inner demons,” that’s how people tend to describe it. When it is about the beauty of nature, and the healing powers of solitude, I’m a little more hopeful about it. But why do I even mention this – for you, as I am well aware, I shall never be able to compete with the mountains.

About your other point. Bad losers, well, that’s a difficult topic. I’m not a coach, and I resist the temptation to sell the kind of support that’s geared toward winning. But what does all this have to do with you? I think I see you as two persons here. I recall that you were a rather ambitious athlete at some point, and I sense that you might have the sportsman’s attitude to competition, and having a beer afterward. But there’s also this other side to you. I would have suspected that you find quite a few things not worth competing for. Why are you thinking about this? And why didn’t you mention it when we spoke at my office? I felt that you didn’t really talk about the things that were on your mind. I’m a bit puzzled and uneasy. You should come in soon again. Don’t miss next week’s appointment. In part, I had you in mind when I decided to be working between Christmas and New Years.

Yours,
Dr. Hare

“Dear Dr. Hare,

this year, it seems that I just can’t bring myself to go to Europe for the summer. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the new apartment? I feel like I live the life of some pampered movie star here, compared to the old place up in the sky near Hudson River, with the wind howling and all. When a light bulb goes out, one mouse click on the building homepage, or a quick call, and a friendly person shows up and puts in a new bulb. We found a company that is now fixing our old furniture – pieces that broke down over the years, while moving from place to place, and I can’t help to see something symbolic in that. I look at the park, walk around the new place, still somewhat in disbelief about my new life, and wonder if the old saying is true after all – that once you cross a bridge to Manhattan, you never have to cross a bridge again.

Which is not entirely true for me: I have quite a few trips lined up across the continental US – the West Coast again (whatever people say, I loved it), Miami (which I also kind of like), and other places. Compared to flying to Europe, flying across the US feels to me like taking a cab. And, as you know, while I love to work hard, I also tremendously value convenience. But I do worry: Am I getting old and mellow?

And where does this leave my Mountain friends? I will be back in the Dolomites next winter, but for this summer, I just can’t bring myself to book a flight. Or, I know that I most likely will go in the end, but it puzzles me that I am even hesitating. Last night we watched the latest Bond movie (via Netflix – as you know, I do not go to movie theaters), and I found funny that each episode gravitates back to the same old sets. So far, I’ve not been like that – I have not been to the town where I was raised for many, many years, and I may never go back at all. I’m just not interested.

OK, I’m rambling. Not much new here. I had strawberries today and made a photo of them, on a new desk I just bought. I feel very well, don’t worry (with a lot of exercise and the warmer temperatures, the arm feels much better now and it may heal almost completely). You seemed so rooted and content in your office when I last saw you there, I wonder whether I feel the need to entertain a life away from my computer-plus-camera at all.

Jens”

“Dear Jens,

I look at the photo, and I think, isn’t that the table from the Swiss design company you mentioned? So, you are eating your Manhattan strawberries on your Swiss (if not to say mountainy) table, and tell me that you are losing your grip on your connections to Europe. What can I say? I think they are much deeper than it may feel to you now, and I think they are very valuable. Do go back, and do find a place in your life for friendship and for the past.

Of course, for the sake of our conversations, I may wish that you stayed, and for once kept a regular schedule with your sessions here. But I am not sure that this is what I should be saying. The fact that you are writing to me about this tells me that inside of you you know that your friends in the mountains will feel cheated. Do not they worry about your arm? Will they not feel your staying away as punishment and retreat? I think you should go, and make people see that you are still their friend.

But here is another consideration: If you feel that you need time to heal from the shock of the accident, then they shall have to understand. Only don’t make it seem like you are pulling back. Not everyone takes solitude as well as you do, and you know, I am not even sure that you take it as well as you think you do.

You are right to enjoy your new apartment, after the wear and tear of the last years, which, I know, affected not just your furniture. But never forget the old over the new. I can’t give you reasons for this little piece of advice, but it is dear to my heart.

Let’s speak soon in person,

Dr. Hare”