therapy had been problematic for so much of the patient`s life that one could hardly
expect them to yield quickly. He often added a personal note—that his first course of
therapy, an analysis during his training, had been five times a week for three years—a
total of over seven hundred hours. But Philip was not his patient now, and he was not
there to persuade Philip of anything. He was there to listen. He bit his lips in silence.
Philip continued. «When I started with you I was at the nadir of my existence; вЂin
the trough` might be more apt. Working as a chemist and developing new ways to kill
insects, I was bored with my career, bored with my life, bored with everything except
reading philosophy and pondering the great riddles of history. But the reason I came to
you was my sexual behavior. You remember that, of course?»
Julius nodded.
«I was out of control. All I wanted was sex. I was obsessed with it. I was insatiable.
I shudder to think of the way I was, the life I led. I attempted to seduce as many women
as possible. After coitus I had a brief respite from the compulsion, but in a short while my
desire took over again.»
Julius suppressed a smile at Philip`s use ofcoitus —he remembered now the
strange paradox of Philip wallowing in carnality but eschewing all four–letter words.
«It was only in that brief period—immediately after coitus,” Philip continued, «that
I was able to live fully, harmoniously—that was when I could connect with the great
minds of the past.»
«I remember you and your Aristarchus and Zeno.»
«Yes, those and many others since, but the respites, the compulsion–free times,
were all too brief. Now I`m liberated. Now I dwell in a higher realm all the time. But let
me continue to review my therapy with you. Isn`t that your primary request?»
Julius nodded.
«I remember being very attached to our therapy. It became another compulsion, but
unfortunately it didn`t replace the sexual compulsion but merely coexisted with it. I
remember anticipating each hour with eagerness and yet ending with disappointment. It`s
difficult to remember much of what we did—I think we strove to understand my
compulsion from the standpoint of my life history. Figuring it out—we always tried to
figure it out. Yet every solution seemed suspect to me. No hypothesis was well–argued or
well–grounded, and, worse, not one had the slightest impact on my compulsion.
«And itwas a compulsion. I knew that. And I knew that I had to stop cold turkey. It
took me a long time, but eventually I realized you didn`t know how to help me and I lost
faith in our work together. I recall that you spent inordinate amounts of time exploring
my relationships—with others and especially with you. That never made sense to me. It
didn`t then. It still doesn`t. As time went by, it became painful to meet with you, painful
to keep on exploring our relationship as though it were real or enduring or anything other
than what it truly was:a purchase of service. ” Philip stopped and looked at Julius with
his palms up as though to say, «You wanted it straight—there it is.»
Julius was stunned. Someone else`s voice answered for him: «That`s straight, all
right. Thanks, Philip. Now, the rest of your story. What`s happened to you since?»
Philip placed his palms together, rested his chin on his fingertips, stared up at the
ceiling to collect his thoughts, and continued. «Well, let`s see. I`ll start with work. My
expertise in developing hormonal agents to block insect reproduction had important
implications for the company, and my salary escalated. But I grew profoundly bored with
chemistry. Then, at age thirty, one of my father`s trust funds matured and was turned over
to me. It was a gift of freedom. I had enough to live on for several years, and I canceled
my subscriptions to the chemistry journals, dropped out of the work force, and turned my
attention to what I really wanted in life—the pursuit of wisdom.
«I was still miserable, still anxious, still sexually driven. I tried other therapists, but
none helped me any more than you had. One therapist, who had studied with Jung,
suggested I needed more than psychological therapy. He said that for an addict like me
the best hope for release was a spiritual conversion. His suggestion led me to religious
philosophy—especially the ideas and practices of the Far East—they were the only ones
that made any sense. All other religious systems failed to explore the fundamental
philosophical questions but instead used God as a method of avoiding true philosophical
analysis. I even put in a few weeks at meditation retreats. That was not without interest. It
didn`t halt the obsession, but nonetheless I had a feeling that there was something
important there. I just wasn`t yet ready for it.
«Meanwhile, except for the interlude of forced chastity in the ashram, and even
there I managed to find a few sliding doors, I continued the sexual hunt. As before, I had
sex with a lot of women, by the dozens, by the hundreds. Sometimes two a day,
anywhere, anytime I could find them—the same as when I was seeing you. Sex once,
occasionally twice, with a woman and then moving on. Never exciting after that; you
know the old saying: вЂYou can only have sex for the first time with the same girl once.`”
Philip lifted his chin from his fingertips and turned to Julius.
«That last comment was meant to be humor, Dr. Hertzfeld. I remember you once
said it was remarkable that, in all our hours together, I never once told you a joke.»
Julius, now in no mood for levity, forced his lips into a grin even though he
recognized Philip`s little bon mot as something he himself had once said to Philip. Julius
imagined Philip as a mechanical doll with a large key jutting from the top of his head.
Time to wind him up again. «And then what happened?»
Gazing at the ceiling, Philip continued. «Then one day I reached a momentous
decision. Since no therapist had helped in any way—and, sorry to say, Dr. Hertzfeld, that
included you—”
«I`m beginning to get that particular point,” Julius interjected, then quickly added,
«No apologies needed. You`re simply answering my questions honestly.»
«Sorry, didn`t mean to dwell on that. To continue, since therapy had not been the
answer, I decided to heal myself—a course of bibliotherapy, assimilating the relevant
thoughts of the wisest men whoever lived. So I began systematically reading the entire
corpus of philosophy starting with the Greek pre–Socratics and working my way up to
Popper, Rawls, and Quine. After a year of study my compulsion was no better, but I
arrived at some important decisions: namely, that I was on the right track and that
philosophy was my home. This was a major step—I remember how much you and I had
talked about my never being at home anywhere in the world.»
Julius nodded. «Yes, I remember that, too.»
«I decided that, as long as I was going to spend years reading philosophy, I might
as well make a profession of it. My money wouldn`t last forever. So I entered the Ph.D.
program in philosophy at Columbia. I did well, wrote a competent dissertation, and five
years later had a doctorate in philosophy. I embarked on a teaching career and then, just a
couple of years ago, became interested in applied or, as I prefer to think of it, вЂclinical
philosophy.` And that brings me up to today.»
«You haven`t finished telling me about being healed.»
«Well, at Columbia, midway through my reading, I developed a relationship with a
therapist, the perfect therapist, the therapist who offered me what no one else had been
able to give.»
«In New York, eh? What was his name? At Columbia? What institute did he