States and Stages

For the past fifty years I’ve held in great reverence Dean Hepper and Jack Palmer for their work building the marathon therapy groups I was privileged to be a part of during my 27 months at Kinsman Hall. Half a century on, I’m certain that we were beneficiaries of genuine brilliance applied to psychological group therapy which I am greatly saddened was never allowed to develop beyond the walls of that marathon cabin.

I also remember Dean and Jack’s excited preview announcements before each new marathon breakthrough that this latest work would remove the dark parts of our psyches they referred to as “the mechanism”. This was the part that took hold after puberty from the window experience which determined for the rest of our lives the strength and structure of our abandonment issues. [Footnote: The window experience according to the theory was the event that occurred for each of us around the age of puberty which produced abandonment trauma sufficient to set the cast for the lifelong attitudes that would emerge from it.] To this day, I’m not certain whether they actually believed mechanism-removal was possible or whether I simply heard what I wanted to hear. Nevertheless, in those promises, expectations were set up which were never realistic.

Indeed, when events unfolding in our lives don’t match the script we have written in our heads, it can feel like a crushing defeat colliding with the life we’ve constructed. In response, the person facing the dashed hope will direct their wrath either onto themselves as penance for their own unworthiness or onto others in blame, seeking scapegoats in an attempt to salvage lost innocence.                

Beginning with marathon groups at Kinsman Hall at the age of 17, I later went on to participate in group therapy in Los Angeles at Lifespring and then Insight during the ‘80s—about 25 such groups in total until my mid-30s. The underlying promise made in each and every group was that this experience would fix me; that upon a bed of good feelings, I could now find the tools necessary to discover a fresh version of myself. Such promises stated or implied are powerful because they suggest that the inner legitimacy we seek is available with less pain than believed possible.

Then from the moment each group ended and over the days that followed, I experienced emotional highs and well-being which caused my life challenges to seem manageable. After a group, I was able to recognize unmistakably illuminated pathways for how to render even the most stubbornly destructive habits surmountable. Nevertheless, after a few days passed, the ebullience faded, and with it any faith that what I just experienced was real and attainable. In fact, I felt worse, either because I thought I’d been scammed or because I was too clumsy to make anything work. Such disappointment invariably affected my ability to trust myself, building in me innate skepticism about whether change would ever be possible.

Meanwhile over the course of my life, I’ve read my share of philosophy as well as accounts of human accomplishments in myriad fields. I’ve read of people who’ve dedicated years of their lives developing disciplined spiritual practices. I’ve read with great interests about steps to enlightenment, and how each step leads to the next. I like that I am able to understand the process even though actually following that recipe seems quite difficult. I’ve read of scientists who’ve managed to meld their right-brain imaginations with their left-brain intellect in pursuit of discoveries for which there’d previously been little foundation. For example, Einstein’s re-conception of gravity, time, and light are verifiable truths which boggle the mind. There are so many examples of human accomplishment from people who’ve dedicated themselves to the development of ideas they assembled piece by piece through hard work.

In order to experience spiritual one-ness, or to discover relativity, or any one of a number of accomplishments that made human advancement possible, one must work through a number of stages. A stage is a marker measuring one’s evolving ability to master a skill to which they feel drawn. A first-year engineering student isn’t going to have the knowledge and disciple to build a skyscraper nor is a first-year medical student able to perform surgery. Stages are sets of sequentially ordered steps which, with patience and dedication result in genuine mastery. Once reached, the vantage point afforded from that stage cannot be taken away because wisdom and expertise are functions of experience and perseverance.

But states are not stages.

If I spend 5 days, a week or a month in a therapy room with qualified, effective therapists, I learn a great deal about myself and I may even have the experience of “visiting the proverbial mountain”. I get a sense of who I am without my usual baggage. I feel like I’ve lost 10 lbs. I emerge from the therapy room to hugs and kisses, tears and flowers. I’m able to feel the presence of these wonderful people anew. My high will last a few days and then it will fade because it’s a state, not a stage.

The quick look I’m given of myself as if through a mirror, gazing at an uncompromised version of myself is a peek behind the curtain which doesn’t entitle me to remain behind that curtain. A state is just a glimpse, like breadcrumbs leading to Nirvana; like seeing a powerful movie and being moved by it, while a stage is having the expertise to be the person featured in the movie who possesses in real life those formidable skills. A state is just a dose of inspiration, maybe even a roadmap but never a plane ticket. States offer an exotic look at a potential not yet achieved but achievable. A state is a call to roll up my sleeves and get to work on the issues presented in the group. A state is not a gift but an invitation to play on a higher level

Maybe the reason group leaders don’t tell you about the difference between states and stages is that they’re not that clear themselves about those differences. Through much of my own group work, I never really understood the difference, so that once the post-group high faded, I mistook my fall as an indictment rather than an invitation to a new life with new rules.

There is but one way to get to the mountain: we walk!

Justin Weiner