What is the Soul of Therapy?

I am considering this question as I sit outside under the sheltering branches of a weathered oak tree at the farm where I engage in Equine Assisted Therapy, watching the late afternoon sunlight dappling through the leaves that continue to cling bravely on despite the lateness of the autumn season.  It is November, but still unseasonably warm here in Texas. There is a crisp note in the breeze, however, suggesting that even here in this southern state, the seasons will advance, and a wintry chill will eventually come to cover the slowly surrendering leaves, hiding the seeds of new growth lying dormant under their leafy covering, waiting to push their way up through the ground into the pale sunshine and capricious promises of spring.

My horses munch contentedly nearby, the sound of their rhythmic chewing soothing to my nervous system. Occasionally, they lift their heads and watch me curiously as I type this manuscript on my iPad. I am sure the ways of humans are mysterious and baffling to them: our insistence on productivity, our need to make meaning out of events and experiences and our laser focus on results and outcomes so counter to the way they move placidly through each day, week, month, season, year. They wander from the hay bale to the water trough to their favorite napping spots in the sun or the shade depending on the weather, blissfully unaware of elections, school shootings, births, deaths, and other cosmic events that rattle the globe, unless it affects one of the humans they interact with might who might be late bringing their feed or show up in their pasture in a body that is anxious and afraid. As prey animals, horses read energy to determine cues of threat and safety in their environment. Even in the presence of such dysregulated energy, they are patient. They are tolerant. They are curious without judgment. My horses have taught me so much about slowing down, being attuned, staying present and genuine in the moment. They don’t think about the past or the future but only what is now. There’s now, and then now, and again now. This capacity to be authentically present, genuine and attuned to the moment before them is part of what makes them such powerful catalysts in the healing process of the traumatized clients they partner with.

Because don’t clients long for this? For me as the therapist to simply be present and attuned and genuine? To hold space for them no matter how messy or “not enough” or “too much” they feel when they arrive for their session? Whether they are in a shame spiral, or spewing anger, or on the verge of a panic attack, or dissociating, feeling shut down and collapsed and overwhelmed, don’t they just want me to stay curious and open and connected, to not give them the same messages they get from society, family, intimate partners, employers, social media: that their emotions, thoughts and beliefs, actions, and bodies are not acceptable -- too large, too small, too loud, too quiet, too out of control, too visionary, too extreme?

The soul of therapy is connection. Connection with ourselves, with each other, with nature and the universe, and all the beings in it from the plants and trees and animals and people inhabiting it, to perhaps those we cannot see in a corporeal sense: those who went before, and those who go ahead of us, leaving us both burdens and heirlooms, prophecies and wisdom, gifts and tragedies. We are all trying to find ways to be loved and accepted and repatriated to ourselves in a world that doesn’t understand us or see us or want us to be our scarred and beautiful selves, a world often unwilling or unable to see past the behavior strategies that have been learned to cope with our attachment injuries; strategies that may  sometimes be harmful to self and others, maladaptive now, but adaptive at the time they were developed and vitally needed for survival.  In the therapeutic relationship we offer the wounded opportunities to find enough safety to connect, express needs, be seen without shame and fear; to be felt, heard and understood. Despite the hostility clients might armor up with to hide their fear and shame, despite the withdrawal, despite the silence or the storytelling or the avoidance or the angry lashing out, we attempt to reach through these protective strategies to the beautiful, growing, repairing, worthwhile, noble and profound soul of each individual and couple and family and group that comes through our doorway and sits before us in hopes that we might connect enough in our mutual humanity to help them find a way out of their pain and into freedom, wholeness, and the joy of restored dignity.

The soul of therapy is embodied attunement and connection, in spite of or because of what we have gone through, and who we have been and are still becoming. The soul of therapy is going beyond the spoken word to hear what is not being said, the wrenching cry of the heart, the whispers of the inner child who longs and yet is terrified to be seen. The soul of therapy is seeing into and beyond and through, always believing, always hoping, always seeking the self that has been lost. The soul of therapy is to remain hopeful against all the odds while not dismissing or minimizing or bypassing the reality of the pain before us.

The soul of therapy is learning the principles, protocols and techniques of trauma informed care, and then entering into this kind of care wholly and fully with our humanness and kindness. We transform this knowledge into art informed by science through a deeply felt and personal experience of understanding our own neurobiology, and how trauma sears our nerve endings, and forces us into adaptive roles and strategies that often become maladaptive when the danger has passed. Bringing our embodied selves, our hearts, our attuned presence, our vulnerability and courage into the space along with our training, expertise, and knowledge to meet people where they are and then act as a humble guide to help them walk beyond their stuck places because we have gone beyond those ourselves. We have gone ahead and prepared the way.

The soul of therapy is to be living out what we are asking our clients to do. We cannot take them where we are not willing to go and have not been before. The soul of therapy is always learning, always growing, always finding the edge. The therapist accompanies each individual on their own particular journey for the time that we are invited to do so. The soul of therapy is the essence of being our truest, highest, most enlightened self so that we can help others find theirs as well.  It is a lofty calling, one not to be taken lightly, so costly and so richly rewarding all at once. 

I watch a few more golden brown leaves succumb to the stiff breeze and drift to the ground.  I close my eyes and listen to the rattling of those that still cling stubbornly to their branches, like the beliefs and behavior patterns we struggle to shed, until finally we are ready to release them and risk the uncertainty and unknown of showing up in a new way.  I hear the crunching sound of powerful equine jaws placidly chewing hay.  I feel the weight of the pause between sessions, as I integrate the themes of the previous session and prepare to receive my next client, another life to be present, genuine and attuned with.  Treasures and tragedies to trace through another story line, jagged with pain and laced with beauty and tenderness, regret as well as pride, joy and sorrow and all that goes into this beautiful, messy, promising life.  I consider the privilege and responsibility of being invited to accompany another person on their healing journey, connecting our heart, mind and spirit together in the soul of therapy.