My Counselor My Friend

Today I called my therapist to set up an appointment.  I don't see him regularly anymore, just dialing him up on occasion if I have something on my mind, or a decision in the making.  We end up talking about everything under the sun....from football to poetry or politics.  He always has an inspiring piece of literature or article that he has saved to pass on to me.  And, he doesn't pull any punches with me - often telling me things I don't want to hear, but doing so in such a way that I can't help but accept them.  During our many conversations I get a glimpse into his life, his dedication to his faith, his love of poetry, his pride in the accomplishments of his children and grandchildren.  And, I will sometimes see him in passing on the streets of Lawrence, an elderly gentleman, always stately in his suit jacket and fedora.  I consider myself to have hit the jackpot when finding such a counselor.  I'm grateful for the wisdom that he passes onto me from his life experiences and even his own passion of the arts.  But, today it was not his voice message....rather another doctor's stating that he was undergoing a health crisis and unable to communicate with his patients.

This man....my counselor, helped me find my path to wholeness through pursuing art.  One of my favorite writings he suggested to me at a particularly dark time in my life is a speech from Karl Paulnack - following is just a small section:

"One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940.  Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany.  He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940 and imprisoned in a prisoner of war camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose, and fortunate to have musician colleagues in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist.  Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind.  It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp  Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the Nazi camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music?  There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture - why would anyone bother with music?  And yet, even from the concentration camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn't just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art.  Why?  Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be somehow, essential for life.  The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art.  Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are.  Art is one of the ways in which we say, "I am alive, and my life has meaning."

Godspeed, my counselor and friend.