Misbehaving with Recipes and Life

Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire            Robert Frost

I've been asked on many occasions if I would consent to give a recipe, principally of desserts that I've made for pot lucks. Though flattered, I have a standard reply: "sure, with this caveat: I rarely follow a recipe exactly. I use them as jumping off points and tend to improvise like a jazz scat singer."  Well, perhaps that is an over exaggeration but having given precisely written out recipes to people I've found that the results so vary from what they tasted of mine, that I can't help but think there is one missing ingredient: me.

An excellent cook, Jonathan

I don't like to cook, I love to cook. My desire is to makes something not only delicious but also a bit surprising. I love to throw in an ingredient that has people tasting and puzzling and tasting again. The brave ones always ask, "what makes this so unusual?" And depending on the audience I will reply with the truth or say something ridiculous like "toothpaste!" Amuses the hell out of me to watch their expressions.

I carry this over to my counseling. I can't recount all of the times that I've gone to a workshop, supposedly with a shiny new technique for the psychotherapist, and thought, "Humm, interesting technique, I do that but with my own twist." I realize that must be extremely frustrating for the junior clinician who "just wants the facts ma'am" but the truth is psychotherapy is a lot like cooking. I don't like it, I love it. I know that working with people there is always that third ingredient that makes a huge difference in the outcome. Some of this has to do with my experience and all of the 40 years of studying and trying to create the best possible outcomes for my clients. But there is that 'other' factor, an alchemical blend of respect and love that propels the client, and me forward to reach some times just satisfactory and other times fantastic conclusions.

One of my favorite examples of this was a woman I saw many years ago who had several family members killed in a bizarre accident. Her grief was, as you can imagine, enormous. She needed a way to cope so she could concentrate and do her job. I did all of the usual acceptable techniques to hurry up the grief process and then I turned to her and said, "I think we need some kind of a ceremony." That next week, she brought in the most profound poem about her burning desire to see justice done for her dead relatives. As she read the poem, I was teary and happened to looked up over her head, out the window to see first a murder of crows and then a convocation  of eagles fly by the window. I stopped her and said, "You've got to see this" and we watched in awe as they gracefully circled back by the windows again. This is the alchemical, the something you can't teach in a workshop but such a powerful ingredient in her recovery it left us both speechless.

I have so many tips and recipes to share but I am best sparked by other's requests so just like with clients who come in and want changes in their lives, what would you like? Could it be a change or a recipe? Feel free to request. I will see what I can do and what happens between us. Let's get fired up, that's how the change happens.

magicfeather copyright 2011 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.