you can always begin again
—Buddha
I made a mess of my marriage and life, so here I was out in the country on a Saturday morning trying to put them both back together, but not really knowing where to begin.
My friend Leo suggested I should see Ken Blogett, a University Prof who specializes in hypnosis and past life regressions.
I wasn’t sure about the past lives’ stuff but thought maybe hypnosis might work seeing as nothing else was helping at the moment.
“So, you’re a Prof too?” Ken asked as he was retrieving the coffee pot from the stove to refill my mug.
I nodded, my mouth full of a huge bite of one of his wife’s delicious raisin bran muffins.
He saw my predicament and smiled—evidently pleased I was enjoying his wife’s baking.
I got the impression nothing much fazed my bespectacled host and it was all the same to him whatever decision I made regarding his services.
“I teach Victorian Literature at the U of T—it’s quite a stretch from what you do though.”
He smiled benignly, “Not such a great stretch—just different disciplines—I’m paid to lecture on Psychology but hypnotic regression and past lives therapy is my real passion.”
“You actually believe in reincarnation and this whole business of karma?”
I was sipping at my coffee feigning nonchalance but noticed my right foot tapping the floor—it was a tell, a nervous habit of mine and I was sure Ken noticed it too although he said nothing.
“I don’t proselytize, Lucas, so if people are uncomfortable with that form of therapy I use other alternatives.”
“I see,” I said, but of course, I didn’t. “What type of other interventions do you use?”
“Well, I use talk therapy. Some people prefer one on one sessions, but you don’t really strike me as the type. You seem more independent and results oriented—not the type to commit to a lengthy course of counselling.”
I nodded, struck by his acuity in sizing me up and getting to the crux of the matter. I appreciated that but felt a bit intimidated that he could accomplish the feat with such an apparent lack of effort.
Then, it hit me—he was mirroring my nonchalance.
“Tell me, Ken, are you always this casual and laid back?”
I asked the question as a probe to see if I could discern whether his goal was to put me at ease or to to play some glass bead game with my mind.
He chuckled and poured us both some more coffee.
“I know the whole process of seeing a psychologist can be unnerving, Lucas, but I want to reassure you that today is just an opportunity to see if we can work together—if there’s a fit. If not, the trip alone out here this morning was worth it just to get out and enjoy this beautiful fall day and find a few moments of peace. Don’t you agree?”
“I do,” I smiled and felt myself relaxing.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to time travel back to the past to fix my marriage and my life—maybe I wouldn’t have to undergo hypnosis.
Whatever alternative approach he had in mind would be vastly preferable to either of those frightening scenarios.
My right foot had stopped tapping—I took that as a good sign.