Issue #1 Article#4

A Work in Progress by Jo-Ann Svensson

The woman in my care, lying on the table, was crying. What triggered this torment, the unexpected death of her roommate, was the very thing triggering me, and I was none too present. While my hand held her heart imparting what comfort I could, part of me wandered, looking down at the scene with almost detached amusement. I debated leaving – walking out then and there.

Amazingly it wasn’t a heated debate, rather apathetic, more of a notation that I had the viable option of leaving. The question wasn’t based on morals but my response was and somewhere in that time frame I decided on staying. I returned, fully present, to help my client come into closure.

This session reminded me of a suicide attempt I had witnessed years before. A young man, a child really, had picked up a knife, pointed it towards his heart, threatening to kill himself. Months of mental exhaustion allowed me to turn my back, leaving the responsibility of his life in his own hands. Thankfully in his moment of death he chose life, leaving us both to stumble down new pathways.

So how could two such disparate events be reminiscent of each other? In one I made the choice to temporary re-enter a woman’s life to aid in her journey and, in the other, I chose to leave allowing the child to determine his own fate. The answer lies in the banality of decision-making. In either case there was no fanfare, no angels singing on high telling me I did the right thing. In both I rather fell into the decision, working with it once made.

Days later, when I reviewed the events of the first story, I half expected my life as an energy practitioner to change. I wanted that “afterthought” decision to be a postmark in my journey. Because I had made the decision to return I weighted it with spiritual importance. “Now I am a real practitioner … I chose to be present”. But nothing really changed. No magic spell was cast making me automatically present with clients – it was still work. As with the child above, life went on, sometimes harder, sometimes easier. Both were just decisions in the day-to-day lives we live.

I used to meditate up to two hours daily. My aim was two fold: spiritual attainment and tranquility. I gained neither. I found I was using connection to spirit as a goal rather than a tool. I thought that if I could “connect” in the morning, I would be free of my human frailties throughout the day and peace would flow through all relationships. How wrong I was. I had neglected the part of me that had free will in decision-making and that regardless of my peaceful practices I could still be tripped up later that day.

We make decisions constantly; from when to eat, what to wear, to whether we live or die. Yes, some decisions seem out of our hands but then, of course, we must decide how to deal with those decisions. As a practitioner, we must decide with each session whether we are going to be 100 percent present, 65 percent or not at all. From there we derive further decisions – do we cancel if we are not fully present or is 50 percent good enough? Canceling and going home may be the best option for both client and practitioner. Years later, after the event with the child above, I realized that by turning my back, deciding in effect to go home, I had given him an enormous gift of space in determining his life. But how are we to know?

Like others in the health care profession, our decisions affect the lives of our clients. But how much weight can we put on those decisions? As stated above we sometimes just fall into things and then have to deal with the consequences.

For me it’s a matter of awareness. For example, I generally don’t decide to go home when I am not fully present. I tend instead to use different therapeutic techniques on those days or just deal with the consequences of partial mindfulness as honorably as I can. It’s about using my free will to the best of my ability but then working with the highest intent, or the highest I can muster at that moment, in those times when the decisions seem pre-made.

Becoming a practitioner has no end in sight – it’s a work in progress. But maybe therein lies the beauty of our work. In recognizing and accepting our humanness, we work with al aspects of our being. And, in embracing the messiness of our lives, we embrace our client’s messiness with safety, love and respect.