The Couch Of Now

Jorge paused under the portal where the Divan of Now sign shone . That rainy afternoon he was wandering aimlessly through the downtown streets. Lately he felt that his existence was an accumulation of bad news: nothing was going right for him and he had lost the joy of living.

As he stared mesmerized at the illuminated sign, waiting for the downpour to stop, he wondered when everything had started to go wrong. Sometime between childhood and adolescence, he had ceased to be a free spirit to become entangled in the threads of bitterness.

In the midst of these musings, a bald, slender man, perfectly suited, stood before him and peered at him through his round, rain-fogged glasses.

Jorge was surprised that that guy looked at him that way, until he understood that he wanted to enter the building. Embarrassed, he stepped aside so she could climb the narrow stairs that led to the first floor. He was about to disappear from his field of vision, when, suddenly, the man turned to Jorge and said:

“It rains harder and harder.” If you need time, I invite you to try our couch. The first visit is free.

Surprised by this proposal, he was about to refuse, but was struck by a sudden curiosity. He had always been attentive to coincidences, so if he had decided to shelter from the rain in that portal and now they invited him to pass, the best thing was to enter, he thought.

In addition to the divan that gave it its name, in that office that took up a tiny space there was only a chair and a houseplant. Nothing more. From the window you could see how the water continued to fall with force. Following the man’s instructions, Jorge lay down on the couch and asked him:

“Are you a psychoanalyst?”

“No, I’m some kind of geographer or explorer,” the man smiled. When someone is lost in the forests of the past or the future, my mission is to bring them back to now. That’s what I do.

“Well, I’m afraid he’s going to have little work with me.” My past is irrelevant and, as for the future, there is nothing that makes me particularly excited. It may be better if you let him take care of other more important cases.

“Please don’t get up,” the man in the suit said, sensing her intentions. I’ll tell you something. In an interview with a rabbi very famous for his wisdom, the journalist asked him what the most important day of his life had been and his answer was: “Today.” When asked about the most important person he had ever met, he replied: “The most important is who I am talking to right now. ” I think like him right now.

Jorge looked away from the window. The storm had already subsided, but it was not possible to leave just like that.

“I don’t know how to give importance to today.” If I did, I wouldn’t be here.

He immediately regretted saying this, but it was too late. The man ran his hand over his bald head and replaced the round glasses on his nose.

“I think he’s contradicting himself.” Before he told me that his past is not remarkable and that there are no dreams on his horizon. And now he tells me that today is not important either.

“I’m empty, that is.” Nothing interests me.

“I’m going to answer you just as Viktor Frankl did to his most desperate patients.” He asked them: “Why don’t you commit suicide?” They all had some answer: “I want to see my children grow up”, “I don’t want to die without having visited that country”, “I still have the hope of doing this or that”. Then Frankl would say to them: “Do you see how there is meaning in your life? He already has something to fight for ”.

Impressed, Jorge thought that his attitude had a lot to do with that of those people.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” My problem is that my existence is meaningless. There is nothing I like or want to do. So does that mean that I am tired of living?

“No, it just means that he has temporarily lost the camp from now, but he’s about to get it back.” Going back to Viktor Frankl, the creator of logotherapy, if you don’t know what your mission in life is, then you already have one: find it.

The rain had already stopped when Jorge took a deep breath from the couch. Suddenly he was in no rush to leave. He went to the therapist and asked:

“What does now have to do with the meaning of life?”

“What does every drop that falls have to do with rain?” The other answered. Everything. In a Calvin fable that I read, Marco Polo describes a bridge, stone by stone, to Kublai Khan, who asks him: “But what is the stone that supports the whole bridge?” To which the traveler responds: “The bridge is not supported by this stone or that one, but by the line of the arch that they form. ” The warrior chief reflects and then adds: “Why are you telling me about the stones? The only thing that matters is the bow ”. To which Marco Polo responds: “Without stones there is no arch.”

Jorge pondered in turn and said:

—I understand the message: without enjoying each now there can be no future happiness. They are the stones of the bridge

The therapist smiled before concluding:

“I think you just crossed to the other side