|When I trust what I see|
and say what I see,
magic enters my life.
One set of definitions I came across and with which I took the liberty of combining parts, defined a labyrinth as a “confusingly intricate state of things or events. A particular type of bus ride, thus, could be similar to a labyrinth when the search for a way through the experience is complex and confusing. Notwithstanding the fact that one could be assumed to, at least, have a particular destination in mind upon embarking on a bus ride, it could still turn out, as many have, to be an intricate state of events.
The investigation I have been carrying on for my present endeavor; defining labyrinth as a metaphor for our Bus Ride game, based on Murat’s story of that name, brought to mind a wonderful supervisor, Marilyn Zalcman, I had when I was a student clinician. Marilyn loved to investigate the sources of certain patterns of human behavior, wholeheartedly enjoying the adventure of sniffing out the mystery of “whodunit” with me as we explored the mysteries behind these complexities.
She was a masterful clinical trainer and a devoted friend. I have, as with so many others, regretfully lost track of her. Thinking of her, today, as I pursued a different kind of mystery, I attempted, however, to remedy this disconnect. I was only able to discover a few rather dead ended links to her whereabouts with my cursory investigations. Still I made the effort that I have neglected for decades.
The majority of the clinical investigations Marilyn and I conducted; she playing the role of Sherlock with me as her Watson, typically led us back to unhealed traumas at the source of complex behaviors in clients, usually involving child abuse. It has been many years, now, since sniffing out those roots has evoked any fascination on my part. Still I retain a devotion to sleuthing. And, today, that bent for closer inquiry had not only drawn me forth to an investigation of labyrinths and mazes, as metaphors for our bus ride adventure, but to the warmth of recalling someone still dear to my heart. To my way of thinking, that qualifies as a little taste of awe.