Barrett L.
Dorko P.T.
What is the
sound of one hand clapping?
I was recently listening to the poet David Whyte speak of
this Zen question and what it has come to mean to him. He had previously been
talking about how we become an individual by meeting the world, by reaching out
toward it with attention and awareness. If you don�t take the time to quietly
observe the world in all its dimensions, he says, �The world can�t find
you.�
This, to me, sounded both a bit odd and poetic. I hadn�t
expected him to say that we were being looked for, but I realize that the use of
surprise is part of the poet�s art.
Whyte went on to say that he�s interpreted the �one
hand clapping� thing to mean, �What would it be like to live in exile?� By
that he means that it might be possible to reach out in an effort to engage
something and find, instead, emptiness, a space unoccupied where you had fully
expected to touch something familiar. As he said this he waved one hand before
him, the other behind his back, illustrating the frustration of the first
hand�s effort to connect with its partner and make a sound. �That sound,�
says Whyte, �is the moment we engage the world, and become an individual.�
I�ve been asking people lately if the phrase �one hand
clapping� means anything to them. Some immediately identify its Zen origin,
but most are far less sure where they might have heard it. It echoes in their
head a bit, but they don�t know why. Still others are completely unfamiliar
with it, but are immediately engaged by this odd phrase. Its possibilities
intrigue them. Of course, that�s what makes it a Zen Koan. It evokes
thoughtfulness, and, hopefully, enlightenment.
Think of Whyte�s original contention that individuality
begins at the point of engagement, at that moment when we meet another to whom
we can relate and create something together. He speaks of his experience as a
guide in the Galapagos Islands years ago, of how the animals seemed not to have
read any of the books about their behavior that he had, and how it took months
of quiet observation on his part before the islands revealed themselves to him
�on their own terms.�
I imagine that any clinician would relate to this. At
least, I do. As I think back over my long career, it seems obvious now that my
patients often behaved in ways that I never anticipated, having only read about
what they were supposed to do. And I�ve spent a lot of time quietly
waiting for them to reveal ways of understanding their problems. I found that
this happens in its own time, and that my attention and presence
is all that is required. No less than that, though.
This brings me to my last point-that if our practice
does not commonly include our actual presence; it will resemble the �one hand
clapping�, in fact, the feeling of exile and frustration that the image
evokes.
This cuts both ways. The patient arriving for care who can
find nothing other than a machine to grasp (or a piece of paper with an exercise
protocol), according to Whyte, will not become the individual they seek to be.
This only happens when something with which we can truly relate meets us. In the
case of therapy, that would ideally include actually being touched. This is
something that happens less frequently in our profession every day. Consider for
instance how the McKenzie Institute says with some pride that it is �hands
off� therapy.
Beyond that, the therapist who goes into this work because
they seek some way of connecting to others on a level that requires our
expertise and insight will be unable to do that unless they have the opportunity
to sit quietly with their patients, waiting for their problems and solutions,
i.e. their true behaviors to emerge. Each day I hear of the growing trend to use
PTs as evaluators only. The actual care is the responsibility of the PTA or some
other form of �extender� service. Therapists have expressed to me how this
situation might be lucrative for their employer�s practice, but that it is
breaking their hearts. �This isn�t why I went to school,� they say, �To
spend an hour with someone, write out a plan and fill out a form for the
insurance company. I wanted to be a therapist, I wanted to be present
when change occurred, and to know that my unique presence was a part of that.
All of that�s been taken from me, and now I want out.�
I imagine the hand waving, searching for its partner,
finally giving up and remaining the same as when it began. It will not truly
exist as an individual until it resonates with another of its own kind, and it
won�t grow as it wishes without the presence of another who attends with care
and compassion. For me, this is the essence of therapy, and it is becoming rare
in the twenty first century.
Author�s note: For more information about the work of David Whyte, go to his web site http://davidwhyte.com or email: [email protected] or write Many Rivers Company PO Box 868 Langley, Washington 98260