Читать книгу The Bronze Cast - Pam Stavropoulos - Страница 7

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`Coffee smells good’.

`Gotta have it’.

`Wish I could stop for some. But you pay big bucks if you’re late back to the pre-school’.

`Yeah, I remember. We’re in the wrong industry. See you tomorrow’.

No we’re not.

This work is fascinating.

But she can’t stay to argue the point. Not that anyone here would seriously disagree with her.

This is an industry where you have to love what you do. Pay rate notwithstanding. Despite the poor financial remuneration and the constant risk of burnout, there are riches in this field that she couldn’t have imagined.

Besides which, two years ago it had been hard to imagine finishing her studies at all. The constant assignments and self-work, as well as the need to pay the bills, had been exhausting.

Looking at her own `stuff’ had comprised a large part of the curriculum. How could you presume to assist others in their healing if you haven’t attended to your own?

Not that healing is definitive.

We are all works in progress.

`Mum!’

Her little whirlwind throws himself at her, wrapping himself around her legs.

`How’s my Matt?’

Ruffles his hair; kisses his beaming little face.

I used to think we all started out like that.

Now I know better.

She hopes she is giving him enough. He misses his dad. But the split was amicable and there is regular access.

It’s not what happens but how you handle it.

Or so she tells herself.

`Look at this Mum!’

A red finger painting, still wet and sticky.

`Hey, it’s great!’

It is too. It positively shines with the exuberance of the artist. Another hug, along with the hope that her clothes won’t end up stickily exuberant as well.

That stuff’s a bugger to get out.

Hard to embrace the moment sometimes – literally – and emerge unscathed.

Going with the flow. She so wants to. And is getting better at it. Being a parent provides constant opportunities to practise.

`Can we have pizza tonight?’

`No! It’s not Friday yet!’

It is tempting to indulge him, and also herself. At a basic level it would mean she doesn’t have to cook. But they have a weekly routine which for the most part it seems good to stick to.

So much for spontaneity and going with the flow.

But kids, like adults, need predictability and structure as well. Navigating the two is a basic life task. In various forms in the therapy room that challenge is present all the time.

Later, when Matt is asleep, she has the deferred coffee while washing up.

Running over the events of the day in her mind, and anticipating the day ahead, she can’t help but note the irony of trying to help clients to live more fully in the moment when she still has trouble with that herself.

Ah but I’m improving.

Slowly but surely.

It’s a relief to yield to tiredness. Coffee notwithstanding, she sleeps almost as soon as turning out the light. Oblivious to another irony this time as she begins to drift off.

I’m starting to fall asleep without thoughts of Luke.

In the morning she will need to tell herself differently.

In your dreams!

In which Luke has again figured.

`Unfinished business’ is the term.

It sure feels like it.

The morning air is mild as she walks to work. Relishing that luxury, as she rarely fails to do.

Well-dressed commuters are forging a path in the opposite direction; sidewalk cafes are already doing a brisk trade. As she reaches the plaza area near St. John’s, alongside the fountain and the park, figures moving their bodies in graceful arcs and parabolas come into view.

Members of the Chinese community, practising Falun Gong.

She is intrigued by what seems to be as much art form as spiritual practice and exercise activity. But the sight also triggers memories of Shen, the Chinese asylum-seeker she had attempted to assist. Whose application for permanent residence is unlikely to be successful.

Shen practises Falun Gong as well. Indeed he is a teacher of it. But the logistics of the law are such that he is unable to include that information in his visa application. The likely outcome of her limited involvement in his plight is almost too painful to think about.

But preoccupies her anyway. She is aware, too, as she arrives to greet her first client, of the fragment of the dream she has again had about Luke.

And which has lodged in her mind like shrapnel.

`I had a dream last night’.

`Oh yes?’

She has long ceased to be surprised by coincidence.

`Can you tell me about it?’

He can and he does.

In technicolour detail. It is filled with symbolism which is highly distracting.

She is tempted to run with that. But knows better.

Let the client lead. And focus on the feeling.

`So how did you feel while you were dreaming?’

`How did I feel?’

He looks bemused. And also disconcerted. Her question has arrested the content description he has clearly enjoyed giving.

A medium length pause.

`I’m not sure’.

`Try to describe what you felt’.

And he does. Haltingly, the words less eloquent this time, the pace and flow less smooth.

She feels more connected to his hesitation. Sees in it, as she hopes he will begin to, his potential for healing. In contrast to ideas and content, the emotional realm is less amenable to coherent expression. Because it is harder to articulate feeling.

`I don’t know. Curiosity. Some excitement even. But also – embarrassment’.

`Oh yes?’

Definitely need to go with that. The reluctance of consciousness to own the less comfortable sensations.

In which, if able to be tolerated, the best hope for healing resides.

`I guess it reminded me of – ‘

A reservoir of past experience and present attitudes to it opens up. Which engages them both for the remainder of the session. And which holds out the possibility of fruitful work for the next.

When he leaves he looks quiet and thoughtful.