EXISTENTIAL DILEMMA

It has been nearly four years since I went to see the principal of my school and told him that after teaching philosophy to high school students for twenty years I had come to the realization that whatever was truly worthwhile in life could not be taught. I wanted to resign from my job but my principal, who was a caring man, did not accept my resignation. He wanted me to stay for another five years so that I would qualify for a handsome pension which was offered after twenty five years of service. He asked me if I would prefer teaching another subject or another class, but I turned his offer down and shared with him some of my inner turmoil; he was very sympathetic, and made the counter-offer of an extended leave of absence and suggested that I see a psychiatrist. He recommended that I see an Asian psychiatrist as he would have a better appreciation for my personal and cultural dilemmas.

         Now I have been seeing a therapist for the last four years. My therapist is a gentle, soft spoken, kind-hearted person. He is nearly my age and shares a similar background. He is a good listener and shows a lot of compassion; but, I feel that I have not made any progress, as I am as troubled as I was four years ago. Sometimes I feel as if I should stop consulting him. I see it as a waste of his time. My therapist disagrees. He, on the other hand, is optimistic. He tries to tell me that I have grown, that I have matured in the last four years; but, the changes are ever so subtle. He speaks to me with a convincing voice; his face is so innocent and gentle that I find it hard to disagree with him, so I continue the therapy.

         When I look back at our four years together I realize that I never became dependent on my therapist, as I have always believed that each one of us has our own cross to carry. Other people can make suggestions but they can't live our lives for us.

         During the first year of therapy when I shared a few glimpses of my life with my therapist he told me that I was ambivalent about my job and my life. He believed that at the same time I liked and disliked, loved and hated teaching. I personally believed that a teacher was like a prophet. I also believed that teachers were capable of brainwashing children and such a conflict was poisoning my mind, my soul, and my life; since I could not resolve my conflict, I was trying to dissolve it by giving up my job altogether. I thought my therapist was right, but his interpretation seemed an over-simplification of my dilemma.

         We reached a turning point in therapy one day when my therapist said, "You don't belong in teaching" and I responded "I feel as if I don't belong anywhere". That answer intrigued my therapist and when he pursued that line of thinking further, I told him that all the men and women I knew belong to one group or another and identify with others in some regard: language, religion, ethnicity, profession, culture, or some other dimension, but I felt I did not belong anywhere and did not identify with any one particular group.

         My therapist was puzzled. Perhaps he had not yet met any such person. When he asked me to explain what I was thinking, I replied that in spite of being a man by gender, I could easily identify with women. I showed him some of the poems and stories I had written from a female perspective. My therapist was taken back as he had never met a man who wrote as a woman. I told him that it wasn't a conscious effort on my part. I never sat down with the purposeful intention of writing as a woman. I identified with women's problems to such an extent that subconsciously I composed poems as a woman. It was only after a couple of years of writing poetry that someone brought it to my attention that those poems were written as a woman; it was then that I became aware of the phenomenon. That same day my therapist told me I was neurotic; in addition I had problems with identity. Once again I felt as if it was an over-simplification.

         As my therapy and self-discovery continued congruently I shared with my therapist that the problem with gender was only one of a series of dilemmas I faced on a day to day basis. Another source of conflict was in the realm of my religious beliefs.

         "What is your religious identity?" he inquired.

         "I don't have one." I answered softly.

         "What do you mean you don't have one?"

         That was the first time I sensed a tone of resentment in his voice. I'm sure he thought I was giving him a hard time, but I was serious, and as honest with him as I could be with myself. He continued, stating that "Everyone has parents who belong to a religious group."

         "Yes, that is true. My parents are Muslims; but that is their identity and I don't believe in the same things they do. It is not that I have anything against Islam, it's just that I don't have any religious beliefs of my own. I respect other people's beliefs and even assisted when my parents performed their pilgrimage in Mecca; but, I did not personally participate in the pilgrimage even when I had the opportunity.

         "Then what is it that you do believe in?" My therapist sounded impatient.

         "I can't give you a simple answer. On one hand I respect and believe in all religions because I have inherited them from my ancestors; those philosophies of life, as I call them, help me understand the moral evolution of human societies; on the other hand I don't follow any religious doctrine. I don't pray. I don't fast. I don't perform any one ritual and that is why I am not a member of any religious community. Last month a member of a religious organization called me and asked me on the phone, "Are you a Muslim?" When I said `No' there was a long silence on the other end of the line.

         After sharing those details, at the end of the third year of therapy, my therapist told me that I was a borderline case which probably meant that I did not fit into any one of his traditional categories. I sometimes feel that my therapist was as unsure of the whole predicament as I, and he was trying to cover up his confusion with jargons that did not mean anything to me. Finally, one day my therapist became quite agitated with me and asked, "Why don't you want to join a group or organization?"

         "Because membership in one group exclusively divides people rather than uniting them."

         "How does that happen?" My therapist appeared lost.

         "When  someone joins one group he is automatically dissociated from all other groups. And by doing so he falls prey to the Us - Them phenomenon. Once people are divided on the basis of religion or any other basis. Then it is only a matter of time before the conflicts reach such an intensity that the feelings of anger, resentment, bitterness, and even hatred prevail. Historically, human beings have been divided on the basis of different parameters: East against West, North against South, Right wing against Left wing, Conservatives against Liberals, Women against Men, Blacks against Whites and so forth.

         I always believed that all human beings, regardless of their race, colour, age or gender are all members of the same human family. Our collective salvation is in cooperation rather than competition or confrontation. That is why philosophically I am a member of all the groups, but in reality, a member of none; in joining one group, I will be excluded from all the others.

         In the last few months I have shared with my therapist that I have been living in two cultures at the same time; the Eastern one in which I grew up, and the Western culture that I have chosen to live in; I am trying to find a synthesis between the two but have not been successful so far. It was then that I saw the special twinkle in his eyes. He said,          "Now I know what your problem is?"

         "What is it?" I was curious.

         "You are a marginal man."

         "What does that mean?"

         "You are stuck between two cultures. You are experiencing the same fate as all of the first generation immigrants."

         Once again, I was disappointed.

         Finally one day I could no longer resist; I opened my heart to my therapist and I said, "Why is it that you can only see me from a clinical perspective?

         "How come you always see me as a problem and shower me with diagnoses and labels?

         "Why don't you ever try to understand my human condition and appreciate my existential dilemma?"

         And then I suggested that we meet in a different setting.

         My therapist told me that I had challenged him and he had to think about it for a few days before he accepted or refused my invitation.

         A couple of weeks passed and I did not hear from my therapist. I wondered whether I should try to contact him once again or stop the therapy for good.

         And then one evening I decided that I should stop analyzing my life and start living it. I realized that for four years I had been intellectualizing everything I did, everything I thought. I also realized that my therapist resided inside me and the time had come for the therapist and the client to embrace each other. I searched for a job in which there was no need for extensive talk, analysis and intellectualization.

         Finally I decided to pursue my profession as a teacher, only this time I would work with deaf and mute children because I felt that they were the people who communicated without the need for talking, and lived without the need for intellectualizing.

         So when I went back to see my principal after such a long time, he welcomed me. I told him that I was willing to come back to work on one condition.

         "What is the condition?"

         "I would like to work with deaf and mute children."

         "But why is that?" he looked puzzled.

         "Because they communicate without talking and live without intellectualizing."