In the USA he is a star, on all continents he is a world-class figure. At 89, psychotherapist Irvin Yalom continues to counsel, write essays and novels. We met with the patriarch of modern psychotherapy in his wooden house in Palo Alto, California.
Irvin Yalom meets me at the turn to his house. Standing at the crossroads, with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed slightly, he makes sure that I turn in the right direction in time.
Professor Emeritus at the Stanford University School of Medicine (USA), author of best-selling books, enthusiastically received by critics around the world, an over-demanded psychotherapist, Yalom radiates health: a penetrating look, a sharp mind, precise, sometimes even harsh formulations are softened by the velvety timbre of his quiet yet confident , firm voice.
During the entire interview, he got up only once — to show me the email received in the morning. It was a letter sent from an Internet cafe by a homeless vagrant who found the novel Schopenhauer as a Medicine in a dumpster: «Your book turned my life upside down.»
Irvin Yalom barely hides his satisfaction. It can be said that the circle has closed: since childhood, the son of poor emigrants loved to read, came to psychology through literature, and today received confirmation that he managed to successfully combine both of his passions — writing and psychotherapy — in the name of the main goal: to open the way to spirituality for someone. peace, clarity and freedom.
Psychologies: Let’s start from the very beginning — from your childhood.
Irvin Yalom: I was born in Washington. My childhood was not very rosy. The family is poor, I grew up with a sister who was seven years older than me. We lived in an apartment on the second floor above a small grocery store that our parents ran. We were the only white family in our Negro neighborhood. I remember this time without much joy.
It wasn’t safe to leave the house, and it wasn’t fun at home either. Our parents were people of the old formation, they were poorly versed in modern American life, and we had no time to deal with them: they worked very hard and hard, 12 hours a day, six days a week.
Basically, I don’t know how I grew up the way I am. Looks like I made myself. More precisely, literature made me so
Perhaps you then felt like a stranger in the circle where you happened to grow up?
AND I.: You know, all my friends were black. And very quickly the “Jewish question” arose in my life. My parents emigrated from Russia in the 1920s to escape the pogroms. More precisely, they lived somewhere on the border of Russia and Poland (my father once said that he would not have survived another Russian winter).
Later, the German Nazis leveled their small village to the ground, and now there is no trace of it. My parents never directly spoke to me about my Jewish roots, but they themselves were very committed to Jewish traditions and culture. They read Yiddish newspapers, and all their friends were Jewish too. At the same time, they were not religious, and of all the holidays, we celebrated only Hanukkah.
I never wanted to know more about my origins. And a few years ago I was giving a lecture in Russia and suddenly, while having lunch in a Ukrainian restaurant, I realized where I came from: borscht tasted exactly the same as what my mother cooked.
Well, in a school where very tangible anti-Semitic sentiments reigned, my nationality caused me a lot of trouble. Very soon I got used to finding solace in reading. I immersed myself in the books I avidly collected from the municipal library. I never saw my parents reading books.
Basically, I don’t know how I grew up the way I am. Looks like I made myself. Or rather, literature made me that way. Around the age of ten, I passionately fell in love with reading novels. Since then, this passion has not left me. Until now, day after day, I live, immersed in some kind of novel …
Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky shaped my philosophy, psychology, my relationship with society. Thanks to these two writers, I learned to understand the innermost depths and anxieties of the human soul.
You were 10 years old when, in front of your eyes, the family doctor saved the life of your father, who had a heart attack. Then you decided to devote yourself to medicine, did you find your calling?
AND I.: Yes, there really was such a story. But regardless of it, the choice of the medical field was predetermined for me, since in those days it was a “classic” career for excellent students from the Jewish immigration milieu.
In fact, there were only two options: either to practice medicine, or to continue the family business. As we joked, you become either a doctor or a loser. If I had known that I could become a novelist, things might have turned out differently. But I didn’t know any of the writers. And I didn’t know it was possible. However, I can definitely say that I chose psychotherapy as my specialization thanks to reading the great Russian writers.
I remember the terrible stress during college: I had to work all day long. At first, I felt that in terms of my level of training, I was fairly behind my comrades. I worked so hard that there was no time for reflection, it was necessary to accumulate, collect knowledge.
A very strong motivation for us was the five percent quota: that is the percentage of Jewish students allowed in medical schools. Therefore, in order to be able to continue training, it was necessary to do everything perfectly. Also, I wanted to finish college not in four years, like everyone else, but in three. I was in love with my future wife Marilyn and wanted to marry her as soon as possible. I was afraid to lose her.
One of your most famous books is called Existential Psychotherapy. You have created this method and apply it in your practice. Can you tell what is its essence?
AND I.: Existential psychotherapy as such does not exist. To apply it in practice, you need to master a variety of therapeutic techniques and a deep interest in existential issues.
What does it mean to live? How to deal with death? How to find the meaning of life? Even if you managed to find a faithful life partner, how to accept the idea that you will die alone — just like you came into this world?
If you start really thinking about your own life, you will inevitably come to these existential questions about death, about loneliness, and about the meaning of life. This is what existential psychotherapy is about: addressing these metaphysical themes as part of a course of treatment.
I have always been deeply interested in philosophy — not that which is connected with the field of mathematical logic, but that which deals with questions of the meaning of life. And I see no reason to oppose philosophy and psychotherapy. Both of these disciplines do the most important things.
However, we have to admit that not all patients are interested in such problems. Of course, these issues are present in their lives, but they do not come to me for their resolution. First of all, people are concerned about marriage, love, career … And I deal with the patient with what he needs most at the moment.
Does attention to such existential questions affect your therapy practice and relationship with the patient?
AND I.: Undoubtedly. If you understand that we humans are all in the same boat and that we all have the same perspective of disappearance, then you as a therapist are choosing a different path.
I do not establish a distance with the patient, I do not try to take a neutral position. I enter into a relationship with him. I try to understand exactly what he wants to tell me, and I answer him without playing the role of a spiritual mentor.
My goal is to prevent people from succumbing to the temptation to submit to some «supreme» being, ideology, or religion. Our dialogue should not bind, but liberate.
Do you give a lot of advice and guidance during the course of therapy?
AND I.: I don’t want to be perceived as some kind of omniscient being. In my opinion, a good psychotherapist should not play such a role. I say what I know, and calmly admit if I don’t know something. When I can, I provide answers to questions.
Sometimes I even had to engage in self-exposure. For example, with Ginny, my patient, the heroine and co-author of the book Chronicles of Healing. Psychotherapeutic Stories,” she was in therapy with me over forty years ago.
And I came up with an idea that was revolutionary for that time: what if Ginny knew what I was thinking and feeling during our sessions? And I let her read my notes — nobody has ever done that before.
I am sure that every patient asks himself the question: what does my doctor think of me? And I am open to such a conversation. I believe that they have the right to ask me what I think. And I always tell them that if they want, let them ask.
And every time I did it, the results were excellent: it enlivens the process of therapy, provides material for the next sessions. Patients see that you are sincere with them, that they are not judged, and that they can speak freely.
But what about the benevolent neutrality that Freud urged?
AND I.: First of all, I think that this principle of neutrality is outdated. This is interesting in theory, but not successful in therapy. Psychotherapy is primarily a relationship, and it is this relationship that heals. In addition, I am sure that Freud himself took a very active position, meeting with his patients: he penetrated into their lives, talked to them a lot.
I mainly work with the relationships that my patients have with other people. Often, this is exactly what they come to consult with: to change their relationship with parents, lovers, friends… But the fact is that I will never meet these people.
Therefore, I consider the relationship that develops between patients and me. I open their eyes to some things, if I think it can be useful for them, I can point out some flaws, and we can work together, analyzing these difficulties and complex knots.
But if you talk about yourself, do you run the risk of blocking your patient’s «transference»: preventing him from making you a beloved father, an absent mother?
AND I.: It is not at all necessary to be silent and impenetrable in order for the transference to occur, it will happen anyway, since this is a very powerful force.
You know, I myself took a course of psychoanalysis for three years with a specialist who steadfastly adhered to traditions and was very «distant». And I feel like I just wasted my time. I don’t want to keep my distance. I want to be human, I want to interact.
I prefer to work face to face. I offer the couch to those who are very shy and can’t look me straight in the eye.
How are your sessions going?
AND I.: As a rule, they last from fifty minutes to an hour with a frequency of once or twice a week. Often I start with dreams. This is a great way to get to the unconscious. For those who do not remember their dreams, I give advice: always put a pencil and paper next to the bed, and in the morning, before opening your eyes, ask yourself: “What did I dream about?”
Sometimes one word is enough to create a thread. And then the whole dream pops up in consciousness. Sometimes it takes months, but eventually it happens. And when patients bring me their first dreams, they are often full of energy.
Are you using that couch behind you?
AND I.: Rarely. I prefer to work face to face. I offer the couch to those who are very shy and can’t look me straight in the eyes, or who are tired and not feeling well.
Have you been interested in any new psychotherapeutic methods lately? Have you used them in your practice?
AND I.: No. I work with what I know well. I see far fewer patients now than I used to. I am already old and do not undertake those cases where the course of therapy can last more than a year. I don’t want patients to depend too much on me.
I no longer work with people who are severely depressed or who are undergoing intensive drug therapy. In fact, I spend most of my time and energy writing books. I like writing different stories. Somewhere deep down I always thought that writing good books is the best thing in the world.