Monday, September 28, 2015

FROM ADLER TO ZOMBIES: I AM ABECEDARIAN


GUITAR SLINGER
In graduate studies it was Adler, Adler, and more Adler.  During the 80’s, Adlerian psychology was the preferred counseling theme delivered and studied at the University of Regina.  Most of my fellow students seemed to appreciate Adler’s notion that all human behavior has a purpose, but I didn’t.  I remember my arrogant-sarcastic-self thinking duh and really throughout every lecture.

Generally Adlerian counseling does have merit, disregarding the Freudian client couch in favor of a chair, being one example.  But that’s as positive as it gets for me.  The Adlerian method was always lean in to show that you are listening to your client, and then continuously repeat every client expressed line … What I hear you saying is thatsuch and such and so on. 

I thought Adlerian psychology was client coddling to the point of ridiculous for my impatient personality.  And upon reflection, methinks it wasn’t the theory that I disliked, it was the specific professors who delivered the theory – professorism so to speak. (I’ve just coined this word … Professorism (noun) … prejudice or discrimination based upon the personality of the professor.)

Then along came Doctor Ron who introduced me to the counseling theory of William Glasser; that being, Reality Therapy (now called Choice Theory).  It was only Dr. Ron, from the whole lot of the Education Psychology faculty) who embraced Reality Therapy.  The tenet of Reality Therapy, everyone behaves according to the four basic human needs of love, power, freedom, and fun, sounded intriguing.  Glasser’s counseling is somewhat along the  line of … Yes, I believe it when you say you’ve had a crappy life but … what’s that got to do with how you are now?  At one point in my academic life I really did like this approach, so much so that my thesis was based upon Glasser’s notion of Positive Addiction.  Alas, I’ve long since abandoned William Glasser,  and I remember exactly the time that I did so. 

In 1994 William Glasser was lecturing in Regina and I went to see him.  At the time the movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, starring Hugh Grant was playing in the theatre.  William Glasser’s entire lecture was based upon analyzing each fictional character in the movie according to his love-power-freedom-fun theory.  Lame, lame, lame, I thought at the time … and still, too, today.

And then I reflected that William Glasser’s greatest attraction for me, Positive Addiction, was based upon his imaginary notion of how long-distance runners behave. Glasser admitted he was not a runner himself, yet based the Positive Addiction premise, running is the hardest but surest way to Positive Addiction, on a quick and unscientific survey of respondents who read Runner’s World magazine.  Yikes!  I was a long-distance runner at the time (and still am) and this epiphany blind-sided me.  William Glasser really did not know what he was talking about.  (Not so strangely, I still believe in Positive Addiction theory – I just don’t believe in him.)

When I was doing contract counseling I was introduced to the Systems Theory; that is, everyone involved (especially when it comes to family) is responsible for the  maladaptive behavior of any of the members, and turn, everyone is also responsible for the rehabilitation of that maladaptive member.   

Another epiphany … the Systems Theory was the therapy of choice for Catholic FAMILY Services.
From a therapist’s viewpoint, I found it ethically difficult to treat everyone, especially when everyone except the one who was starkly really needing the treatment, may not even participate in the mending.

I also did contract counseling for an agency that focused only on Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.  Cognitive Behavior therapists insist changing maladaptive thinking changes behavior.  That could very well be but … what if the client is not a thinker or … what if your clients cannot think clearly enough to reflect upon their behaviors.  More specifically, how can a therapist think that a client suffering in the moment with a mental illness or an addiction can be introspective enough to participate in this cerebral aspect of the counseling process?   

HYPNOTHERAPY (for a second time) came into my life a couple of years ago when I was guitar busking in Europe. (See my blog:  THREE CITIES, THREE GUITARS:  MY EUROPEAN BUSKATION, posted August 10th, 2014.)

Slinging my own guitar to busk across Europe seemed too clunky and costly, and so I borrowed guitars along the way.  One of the people lending me a guitar was MICHAEL PAYNE, a HYPNOTHERAPIST, in Limerick, Ireland.  That chance meeting with Michael Payne changed my counselling life. 

Here is the story:  We were driving around in Limerick, Ireland looking for directions to leave the city to hike the Cliffs of Moher.  On one of the downtown streets in Limerick we had stopped the car to approach a couple of fellows smoking cigarettes on the bottom step of THE HYPNOTHERAPY CENTRE.  Whilst attempting to receive some verbal directions (it so happened these two smokers were drunk, too drunk to think, never mind advise), Michael Payne came out of his office to the rescue.  After giving us directions, we kindly thanked him, and motored off.

The next day I phoned Michael to thank him and he invited me to tea.  Our phatic chat gained some depth when I queried him about his hypnotherapy practice.  (I had studied Hypnotherapy for a couple of semesters as a graduate student and for reasons whatever, had long dismissed it.  Reflecting on this, as I have so far on the Adlerian and Reality therapies, I discarded it mainly because of professorism – he didn’t know his stuff.)  Anyway, before leaving Michael’s hypnotherapy studio, I had drawn his portrait (I also did some portrait busking that summer in Europe) and then … I borrowed his guitar for a couple days.

The skinny of this essay in facts and factoids:

FACT:  ADLERIAN counselors are too coddling, never ever wanting to upset their clients with the sometimes stark reality of their situations.  REALITY therapists are too rigid, never ever acknowledging that external interferences could, indeed, be detrimental.  SYSTEMS counselors blame everyone, their tactic being to accuse all the external interferences (those within close proximity to their clients) as being the problem.  COGNITIVE BEHAVIOR therapists are too delusional, thinking that all their clients have the same sober thinking capacities as their arrogant counseling selves.   

FACT:  The traditional therapies such as Reality Therapy (Choice Theory), Adlerian Therapy, Systems Therapy, and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy are all, as is Hypnotherapy, very client-centered, and this is a good thing.

FACT:  The traditional therapies, including Reality Therapy (Choice Theory), Adlerian Therapy, Systems Therapy, and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, typically involve a client-counselor relationship stretching to at least a half dozen therapy sessions (or more), and this is a bad thing.

FACTOID:  The traditional therapies, because they so stretch to at least six sessions, means more monetary remuneration for the counselor.

FACTOID:  HYPNOTHERAPY can sometimes need only one session (when it comes to quitting smoking), and therefore only one session of monetary remuneration for the counselor.  And, accordingly, if a second session is necessary, it is Annie Oakley (in other words … on the house)!

It could be that because I prefer to be slinging a guitar and strumming on the sidewalk rather than performing on the stage, that I compare being a practitioner of hypnotherapy as being like a guitar slinger of psychotherapy.  Saying thus, I am reminding myself that in my woolgathering world of the perfect private counseling practice, I would choose to perform street hypnosis whilst busking, the only payment being whatever the client decides to toss into my guitar case.

This notion of busker counseling may be too seriocomic (even tragicomic) to present as anything except that of a cheap shill but … I AM A BUSKER.
  
And I’ll not deny the factoid, that I am actually a mercenary therapist, who believes that people who are willing to pay out of pocket for therapy, are more willing to participate in their therapy than those who are not willing to pay.  But … to compare my notions to all the other types of counselors I’ve just criticized … the big difference is … There’s nary a wimple in hypnotherapy … there is simply an introductory conversation betwixt client and counselor about the client’s particular itch, then a transfix to hypnosis.   As a hypnotherapist I’m not in the client-counselor relationship for the long scratchespecially when that CLIENT IS A ZOMBIE!

(Wait a minute … where did that come from!)

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE today … the ZOMBIES who had gathered on the Downtown Square, one of my favorite places to guitar busk … but not today!

NOT TO WORRY, THE SPECIAL FORCES ARE OUT


RUNAWAY ZOMBIE BRIDE

LET THE PARADE BEGIN

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

CAN I HAVE MY CAKE AND EAT IT TOO? THE ANSWER MY FRIEND IS BLOWIN' IN THE DIDGE



A KIM CAKE

Ymmm …

Hmmm …

I’m a tyro didgeridoo player and yet I want to busk with my didge in the coming brisk and crisp weather.  If I learn to play the didge then I can truly become that brutto tempo busker that I’ve longed to be for quite some time now (see my blog, THE BRUTTO TEMPO BUSKER: THE ONLY WAY TO BE, September 29th, 2013).

My idea of the quintessential busker is still, and simply, a strummer somewhere along a sidewalk with an open guitar case.  

Times have changed.  Nowadays the buskers are a-go-go, having the accoutrements of a small battery powered amp, along with a microphone and stand, and self or studio produced CD’s on display and for sale.  All of this seems campy to me, perhaps even a profanation of my notion of the quintessential busker because ... it does complify my idea of the traditional simplicity. 

(Admittedly, dear reader, there are times when my blog postings are public caterwauls, and let this be one of them.)

Well I can up all of this modern busker campiness a notch, I think.  Allow me to loiter in my own little Lotusland for a while.  When the Canadian Winter blows in shortly, I am going to blow my didgeridoo.  Yes, whilst all the guitar buskers have packed up because of the bitter cold, I can don my toque and parka and mittens and ski pants and thermal boots and drone into my didge.

Do I know how to play a didgeridoo?  Nope, not really.

Do I know how to play a didgeridoo well enough to be busking with it?  Yep, of course.

Here is my logic:  When I go guitar busking, very, very seldom do I strum cover tunes.  I tend only to thrum original songs, songs that I imagine at my buskspot and then practice while I busk.  I’m thinking I could do likewise with the didge.

There is, however, one significant difference between the two busking instruments:  You can’t guitar thrum if you are a beginner and only know three chords, C, D, and G for example.  Knowing only these three chords would make it really hard to produce an hour or so of pleasant melodies that would appeal to your neighbor vendors and potential consumers passing by.

With the didge I need only to know how to drone.  I know I can doo this because I have been busking with the didge (in summertime only) and only droning and people do stop and toss coins my way.  This coming winter will be better because I am finally getting on to circular breathing and, therefore, am able to focus on blowing different types of sounds and noises to attract more consumers.  I can doo this.

And while I’m busking with my didge I shall imagine certain shibboleths for my t-shirt company.  T-shirt company?  Yes, I am loitering in my Lotusland, remember.

My t-shirt company will be a spin-off of my long-time t-shirt company, GHOTI – (fish).  My sons and I sold GHOTI-(fish) t-shirts to skateboard shops in Kamloops, Medicine Hat, Swift Current, Saskatoon, Brandon, and Winnipeg.  We were successful because of our company brand, GHOTI-(fish).  GHOTI is pronounced FISH.  The GH is like the GH in the word, enouGH (with the F sound).  The O is like the I sound in the word, wOmen.  And the TI in GHOTI is pronounced shh as in staTIon.  Pretty clever, hey (hey … remember I’m a Canadian, hey).

Anyway, GHOTI-(fish) won’t cut it when it comes to the selling didge shirts.  Methinks the catch here to success, will not be fish (pun intended), but with shibboleths.

I’ve thought of some t-shirt slogans for busking in a general sense and some for strictly a didge sense.  First the general sense:

THE KING OF THE COINS, COINS R US (when you have a partner busking with you), (MY LIFE) IS A COIN TOSS, TOSS A COIN – HEADS OR TAILS I WIN, CLINK [klink]: MONEY TO MY EARS, NUMISTATIST [nu:mizmetist]: COIN COLLECTOR, TOONIE TUNES, I’M A MAJOR PLAYER (on this corner), and GUITAR SLINGER: I GET TO PLAY ALL DAY -- EVERYDAY.

And now the shibboleths for the didge t:

DOOIN’ STAND-UP, JUST DOO IT, DOOIN’ IT, I’M A DIDGE DIGGER.

When I doo stand-up this winter, perhaps I’ll become the bellwether of busker t-shirts.  At any rating, I will busk with my didge.  But really I will practice with my didge whilst I busk, and this practicing will be just icing on the cakewalk.

ANOTHER KIM CAKE


CAN I HAVE MY CAKE AND EAT IT TOO?   
THE ANSWER MY FRIEND IS BLOWIN’ IN THE DIDGE.

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week are BRAD HORNUNG (NHL HOCKEY SCOUT) and KENNY MCINTYRE (WHL HOCKEY PLAYER EXTRAORDINAIRE … WHO NOW STICKHANDLES HIS WAY AROUND SOUTH KOREA).
 
 
BRAD AND KENNY JUST BEFORE WE HEAD TO THE REGINA PATS HOCKEY GAME
(YES, HOCKEY IS HERE.  REMEMBER READERS, THAT HOCKEY IN CANADA IS A RELIGION!)
    

Sunday, September 6, 2015

SUMMER'S ALMOST GONE, YES WINTER'S COMIN' ON: AND I FEEL LIKE I GOTTA GET MY DIDGE



SELF ON A DIDGERIDOO

Seasons change and so doo I (as I bastardize this line from No Time, The Guess Who).  And, dear reader, you’ll understand the doo as a pun intended. 

The first time I ever went busking was in summertime.  I really knew nothing about busking except that it looked like it could be fun.  Romantically agog I went terribly over prepared, having accoutrements galore.  I had my guitar and my music stand and my music sheets blowin’ in the wind.  It wasn’t the answer, my friend.  It was clunky.

Since then I’ve managed to crispen my act to simple, simple.  I just take a simple stroll to any Annie Oakley sidewalk, take out my twelve-string, sow the seeds of bills and coin into the hard case, then stand and strum.  It works every time.  And when I tire of strumming my twelve-string, I bring out my banjitar.  And when I tire of the downtown sidewalks, I stroll to a sward in the park or to a place on the beach.  Like I said, it’s simple, simple.

When I first started busking I was in the giddy-up guise as a cowboy.  Cap-a-pie I donned the wide-brimmed white good-guy cowboy hat, a red and white neckerchief, a bright western shirt, a pair of boot-cut jeans cinched with a wide western belt with a big shiny buckle, and of course, cowboy boots.

These days I busk as an Americana Bobby Dylan, complete with messy hair, black shades, tight white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black work boots (or sandals).  This is my garb for my summertime strumming, the way busking was meant to be (for me).

But … Summer’s almost gone, yes winter’s comin’ on (Gotta Travel On by Billy Grammer).

But I like winter. 

Fact:  I love winter.  Winter for me means HOCKEY (our Canadian national religion).  I love going to Western Hockey League (WHL) games with my son, Baron, and favorite National Hockey League (NHL) scout, Brad Hornung.

Factoid:  And I have always loved to play hockey. I played organized wee-wee and pee-wee and and bantam and midget and senior for the NHL (Notukeu Hockey League) VANGUARD EAGLES.   I continued to play senior hockey as a SWIFT CURRENT INDIAN and then later in the recreational leagues with the REGINA ICEMEN.

Alas, organized team hockey no longer fits my fancy -- I’ve now decided that pond hockey is the best for me, pond being a metaphor for outdoor rink.

CANADIAN MOUNTIE PLAYING POND HOCKEY
As I start to sharpen my CCM Crazy Light hockey skates
 
MY CCM CRAZY LIGHTS
(see my blog posting, COLBY SAVES CHRISTMAS: THE SILVER SKATES, December 21, 2014) … I must also sharpen my didge skills.   

Yes, I am going to didge busk this coming winter season.  Granted, my winter buskspots will be only hebdomadal, and will only include parking lots or sidewalks (no more plages, no more swards).
   
While all the other guitar buskers have packed up their axes, I will stand tall on any street corner in my winter toque, my winter parka, and my winter mittens, and drone dulcet winter tones through my didgeridoo.

I am not a maladroit didgeridoo player. I’ve been didge busking before, but only in summer.  Not only can I burp and blurt and yawt, and deliver a decent drone; in inchmeal fashion I’m finally learning to circular breathe!  (Every morning as I walk to work I practice circular breathing blowing into my didge.  One hundred more walks and I’ll have it!)

DIDGE BUSKER IN AMSTERDAM

See my previous posts on didge busking:  JUST DIDGERIDOO IT:  AN ESSAY ON FEARLESS CHANGE, OCTOBER 2ND, 2012, and DOIN’ STAND-UP: ANOTHER ESSAY ON DIDGE BUSKING, NOVEMBER 4TH, 2012.

I am so looking to being that brutto tempo bandersnatch didge blowing busker!

I am so looking forward to winter!  

To conclude in poetaster fashion ...

WOO HOO ... WINTER DIDGERIDOO!