I was in my colleague Leena’s
apartment in Finland when I saw the news of a plane flying into one of the twin
towers in New York. I watched the TV with a mixture of horror, fascination and impotence
as the second plane crashed into the other tower. It’s hard to believe that last
Friday marked a 25-year anniversary of that dreadful day. I have been to New
York a few times, and went up the twin towers a few times on those visits. I
have visited New York three times since the 9/11 attack.
In both places, one of the things
you become aware of, is the silence. In Auschwitz that wasn’t surprising. The
camp is away from any major town or city. The 9/11 memorial, however, is just a
few hundred yards from the bustling streets of New York. In a world that can
often be filled with noise, distractions and challenges, embracing moments of
silence can be a powerful part of mindfulness.
Silence can also form an important
part of therapeutic conversations. The late psychoanalyst, Andrea Sabbadini, argued
that silence is a form of communication in its own right. Writing in 1991, he used
the lovely description that silence was a ‘container of words’. Much
earlier it was William Penn, the American statesman and philosopher who said, ‘Let
silence be there - let’s not disturb the sound of silence as within the sound
of silence there are more words than spoken speech’.
However, it was Sabbadini who described
there being ‘different silences’ which can have ‘different meanings’.
This can clearly be problematical in therapeutic encounters. Different types of
silences can also be problematic in non-therapeutic encounters. Last week I
enjoyed an absolutely uplifting experience when I visited a group of my
colleagues providing psychotherapeutic care. It is always great to
go and spend time with colleagues, and I’m always grateful for the time they give
me.
Last week's visit was no
different. I had a warm welcome, and following a tour of their facilities (once
again car parking for colleagues was an issue), we retired to their seminar
room for a group discussion. I was left on my own while colleagues were rounded
up and tea and coffee brewed. Sitting there, in the silence, I gradually became
aware of the clock ticking away on the wall. To start with, the sound was
slightly hypnotic and reassuring. It was the passing of time, one tick at a
time. After a while, however, that same tick began to sound quite menacing.
Now I’m very comfortable with
silence. I don’t undertake any clinical therapeutic work these days, but even
in my everyday encounters, I’m very happy to embrace silence. So, I cannot
account for my uncomfortableness at sitting there listening to the clock ticking.
There will be a reason for sure, and on reflection, I was probably in the right
place, with folk with the right skills to help me understand my lived experience.
However, I think we had a much better conversation.
One of the things that they
wanted to talk about was the use of the term ‘service user’ when talking
about the people we work with. It was a great challenge, and one that I have
heard several times recently. I prefer person and people, but I think we are a
while away from this becoming the norm. Labelling people can often have unintended consequences and raise challenges for people. I shared with them an experience of
writing a paper about people who were given the label of having a borderline
personality disorder. The publishers refused to allow us to use the Miss
Nomer in the paper's title, insisting we use misnomer instead. It didn’t
make much sense to us, judge for yourselves here.
