Barrett Dorko
16-04-2006, 07:54 PM
It’s been a quiet week in Cuyahoga Falls…
Every trip provides me with something to write about, and I’ve come to feel that the tour isn’t actually complete until I do so. This week was no different.
The problem this week is that I have two ideas competing for prominence here and they seem both equally compelling and unrelated. Perhaps the writing itself will show me why one won’t leave.
About thirty miles west of Little Rock Arkansas is a large sign that simply says “Toad Suck Park.” I’m not making this up. Google it and you’ll see what this place is all about. Immediately I began planning how I might work this location into a lecture the next day.
I typically begin by sort of pretending that I don’t actually know where I am, thus indicating that I travel a great deal and that I’m responding to that with a mildly confused if not actually weary way of being. (I think there’s the underlying implication that therapeutic issues of pain are the same wherever you are because scientific principles have never been seen to vary in this universe, but I’m pretty sure no one else thinks of this. I keep quiet about that for fear of chasing the students off. After all, what I’m about to say is strange enough.) My first lecture dispels any notion the class may have had about my lack of clarity or passionate interest in the subject so they are bounced rapidly into the realization that though I may not know where I am, I know what it is I want to say. I think that this bouncing keeps people engaged, but sometimes I find even this doesn’t work. Maybe it works best on me.
Anyway, I had a few lines prepared I felt sure the class would find entertaining. Things like, “Is your clinic out near Toad Suck?” and “Your nervous system is so fragile that driving would begin to hurt you before you get as far as Toad Suck.” and my favorite, “I understand you’re the best therapist in Toad Suck.” I was saving that last one for a real troublemaker.
As it happened, I never said any of this. And it was only as I was packing after class that I realized that. It appears that my lecture/presentation has become so ingrained and automatic that I can’t change it significantly without a tremendous effort, especially if this change doesn’t really add to the educational value. I guess mentioning this location in Arkansas qualifies.
I’m wondering what else the solidifying of my workshop is keeping me from saying. I feel I have to work on this or I’m going to miss something important.
As far as those great lines go, well, I’ll be back in Little Rock next year – and I’ll be ready.
The other thing going through my head on the flight home was an exchange I had with a student early in the course one day. At one point I say, “Look, most of what I’m going to talk about is on television, at the movies and on National Public Radio.” A therapist in the third row said, “If you’re going to talk about TV I’m otta here.” Eventually, I dealt with this threat and implied criticism but I can’t forget her resistance to any real examination of today’s culture and how it manipulates our behavior. Her contempt for the subject was obvious and I had to explain this to her: “I’m not asking you to like what the culture teaches us, all I’m asking you to do is notice this and think about its power.”
Still, this disappointment in my less-than-scientific approach to the causes of pain isn’t all that uncommon and I know that there are those who would prefer I begin by just talking about some inherent weakness in human anatomy because this is something they can see easily and work to control. The culture around them? Well, they’d rather ignore that or just dismiss it.
But Herman Melville had this to say: They look not only for more entertainment, but, at bottom, even for more reality than the real itself can show…it should present another world to which we feel the tie.
I’m pretty sure he was talking about all of us and our connection to television. Okay, maybe it was the nineteenth century version of that – the novel.
Finally, I try to remember this insight: Who knows in this life of ours what is really true and what is enchanting make believe?
Who said that, you wonder? I hope the woman who objected to my appreciation of television is reading this, though it’s unlikely.
It was one of my favorite philosophers - Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Every trip provides me with something to write about, and I’ve come to feel that the tour isn’t actually complete until I do so. This week was no different.
The problem this week is that I have two ideas competing for prominence here and they seem both equally compelling and unrelated. Perhaps the writing itself will show me why one won’t leave.
About thirty miles west of Little Rock Arkansas is a large sign that simply says “Toad Suck Park.” I’m not making this up. Google it and you’ll see what this place is all about. Immediately I began planning how I might work this location into a lecture the next day.
I typically begin by sort of pretending that I don’t actually know where I am, thus indicating that I travel a great deal and that I’m responding to that with a mildly confused if not actually weary way of being. (I think there’s the underlying implication that therapeutic issues of pain are the same wherever you are because scientific principles have never been seen to vary in this universe, but I’m pretty sure no one else thinks of this. I keep quiet about that for fear of chasing the students off. After all, what I’m about to say is strange enough.) My first lecture dispels any notion the class may have had about my lack of clarity or passionate interest in the subject so they are bounced rapidly into the realization that though I may not know where I am, I know what it is I want to say. I think that this bouncing keeps people engaged, but sometimes I find even this doesn’t work. Maybe it works best on me.
Anyway, I had a few lines prepared I felt sure the class would find entertaining. Things like, “Is your clinic out near Toad Suck?” and “Your nervous system is so fragile that driving would begin to hurt you before you get as far as Toad Suck.” and my favorite, “I understand you’re the best therapist in Toad Suck.” I was saving that last one for a real troublemaker.
As it happened, I never said any of this. And it was only as I was packing after class that I realized that. It appears that my lecture/presentation has become so ingrained and automatic that I can’t change it significantly without a tremendous effort, especially if this change doesn’t really add to the educational value. I guess mentioning this location in Arkansas qualifies.
I’m wondering what else the solidifying of my workshop is keeping me from saying. I feel I have to work on this or I’m going to miss something important.
As far as those great lines go, well, I’ll be back in Little Rock next year – and I’ll be ready.
The other thing going through my head on the flight home was an exchange I had with a student early in the course one day. At one point I say, “Look, most of what I’m going to talk about is on television, at the movies and on National Public Radio.” A therapist in the third row said, “If you’re going to talk about TV I’m otta here.” Eventually, I dealt with this threat and implied criticism but I can’t forget her resistance to any real examination of today’s culture and how it manipulates our behavior. Her contempt for the subject was obvious and I had to explain this to her: “I’m not asking you to like what the culture teaches us, all I’m asking you to do is notice this and think about its power.”
Still, this disappointment in my less-than-scientific approach to the causes of pain isn’t all that uncommon and I know that there are those who would prefer I begin by just talking about some inherent weakness in human anatomy because this is something they can see easily and work to control. The culture around them? Well, they’d rather ignore that or just dismiss it.
But Herman Melville had this to say: They look not only for more entertainment, but, at bottom, even for more reality than the real itself can show…it should present another world to which we feel the tie.
I’m pretty sure he was talking about all of us and our connection to television. Okay, maybe it was the nineteenth century version of that – the novel.
Finally, I try to remember this insight: Who knows in this life of ours what is really true and what is enchanting make believe?
Who said that, you wonder? I hope the woman who objected to my appreciation of television is reading this, though it’s unlikely.
It was one of my favorite philosophers - Zsa Zsa Gabor.