After a fabulous walk in the hills & open countryside of Northumberland this weekend, I’ve been reflecting on the impact of my surrounding environment on myself and my sense of wellbeing.
The very act of walking in itself, for me, is liberating; to be moving, to be observing what’s going on around me, to be part of nature, and also to feel my own body moving. If I’m working on something and I feel stuck, I’ll often go out for a walk; I find it helps ‘clear my head’ and I often find my answers come to me whilst I’m out there. And after a good walk, I always come back feeling refreshed and invigorated, and more connected to my body.
To be in the open space, in the fresh air is vital for me. If I spend too much time indoors, I begin to feel restricted and constrained. When I’m working at home, I often feel the need to just be outside. I love to jump in my car and drive down to the coast & walk along the pier or the seafront. I love the open expanse of the sea. I love the feel of the sea breeze on my face and hearing the sounds of the waves lapping on the sand or crashing on the rocks. The last time I was at the coast, I stood for a long while just listening to sounds of waves lapping over pebbles and then the water running back through the pebbles, before the next wave crashed and started the process again … perfect!
Connecting to, and being part of nature, is hugely important to me. Looking out of a friend’s kitchen window with a fabulous view of open countryside highlighted a stark contrast for me between that view, and my own … a back yard and brick wall to the back, or cars and houses to the front. And how entrapped I sometimes feel within that. A while back, I spent many mornings in a kitchen with views out onto trees, and I used to love sitting there with my cup of coffee, just looking out, watching the leaves, branches and birds. I’m also reminded of somewhere I spent a lot of time in my childhood … huge windows with fabulous views towards the Cheviots. The open space seems to allow me to open my mind more; I really miss having an open space to look out on…
And linked with this, I’ve been thinking recently about the effect of some of the rooms I counsel in …. in my own counselling room which I use for my private practice, I’m surrounded by own things, the room has absorbed my energy, as well as some of that from the many clients I’ve been privileged to work with there. Clients so often comment on the warmth and safety they experience in that room. And then in contrast, some of the other rooms I have to use when I’m working for other organisations aren’t as ideal. They’re quite often rooms used for all kinds of purposes, and so not geared up towards providing a safe counselling space. And for me, this really impacts on how I feel; I find these rooms depressing and limiting. I wonder how my clients experience them, and I wonder too, about the impact they have on my counselling. I appreciate that the relationship is the most significant factor in effective counselling, but I can’t help wondering about the impact of the surroundings on both client and therapist.
It seems to me that our environments and surroundings, both indoors and outdoors, really can, and do, have a significant effect on our experiencing and wellbeing.
For me the subject of client perception is really fascinating. I recall something of Gestalt concepts, where the figure is contrasted against the (back) ground. So, a figure can be made more significant, 'present' in Rogerian terms maybe, not only by its own scale and sharp definition (congruent and integrated), but also by setting against a plainer or distant background.
ReplyDeleteWhere i am coming to is that maybe by using a plain unadorned therapy space, the presence of the 'relationship' is sharper, more direct.
But it seems, after looking at Yalom, that the best 'breaks' seem to occur when no one is 'trying', when off- guard. I am reminded of the 'Colombo' detective, who always clinched the case with some really fumbling inconsequential remark as he is about to walk away. Therapy favours the oblique and distracted.
Therefore, i feel that a tangible sense of a very real and affected therapist evidently engaged in life's passions, is really providing a promisingly warm seedbed for the nurture of therapeutic relationships. Yes i know it offers so many possibilities for snagging transference or counter transference, but that is inescapable risk of being a 'journeyed' human anyway.
I have read, think it was Rollo May, that some feel Rogerians can be so pure and unimposing that it obliges clients to 'put on their best', out of respect and pleasing for the therapist. Well it won't be my Person-centred way, have to take me complete with Suff'uk dialect, crumpled collar and occasionally 'crunching gears' as i admit i lose the thread. Pictures of me living afloat in favourite creeks will ground me, and a reflected rippled moon might lead thoughts out to tenuous possibilities
Leave the sterility of detached anonymity to the psychoanalysts.
Thanks for taking the time to comment Philo. I agree with what you say, and I think that as counsellors / therapists for whom the relationship is where the real healing takes place, it's impossible to keep ourselves sterile or distanced from our clients. How could we even begin to relate if there's nothing of ourselves there?
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