Maybe it’s all about love

“What are you, Johnny Appleseed?” Peter said, with what felt like mocking contempt.  He was teaching me to be a psychologist, a certain kind of psychologist.

Navy blazer, grey slacks, leather chairs, the austerity of analytic psychology itself a gardened hedge against the chaos of badly wounded psyches and the mayhem of human behavior.

Who am I to plant seeds?  And besides, perhaps it’s the tree itself, and not the snake much less God 2.0, that has played us:  “Hey kids, whatever you do, do not eat that fruit.”  It’s not only bears that shit in the forest.  Really love your peaches, but your tree shakes me.

It was a woman’s hundredth birthday party when I saw Peter in a lovely, albeit cool and drizzly, garden.  Over twenty years his blue eyes had grown soft and his graying beard was soft too.  His leather jacket was soft and his velvet handshake as good as a hug.  Looking into my eyes he said, about therapy, but probably about everything:  “It’s all about love.”


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5 Responses to “Maybe it’s all about love”

  1. Mark Brady Says:

    … or even more directly … about working to remove the internal barriers to awareness of love’s constant presence, as Rumi so mystically pointed out? Whether Rumi was right or not, it’s a pretty powerful practice.

  2. Katrina Kenison Says:

    Yup. Before I headed off to Kripalu last spring for my month of teacher training, a friend who’d recently been certified called my cell phone. I’d just been fretting to her about my shakiness in headstand, my fears about not being enough, my worries about living in a dorm room for a month. “Remember,” she said, “it’s all about love.” It really was all I needed to know.

  3. Wolf Pascoe Says:

    Johnny Appleseed was no slouch when it came to love.

  4. Laurie Says:

    …his velvet handshake felt like a hug. The love enveloped me too. Beautiful post.

  5. TheKitchenWitch Says:

    Beautiful. There’s no shame in being Johnny Appleseed–he dedicated his life to growth.

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