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I was recently reminded of this belief when I and several other Red Cross volunteers met a group of 1)evacuees from 2)Hurricane Katrina. We were there, as mental health professionals, to offer “psychological first aid.” Despite all the training in how to “3)debrief,” to educate about 4)stress reactions, and to 5)screen for those needing therapy, I was struck again by the simple healing power of presence. Even as we walked in the gate to the shelter, we were greeted with an 6)ardent burst of gratitude from the first person we encountered. I felt appreciated, but vaguely guilty, because I hadn’t really done anything yet.
Presence is a noun, not a verb; it is a state of being, not doing. States of being are not highly valued in a culture which places a high priority on doing. Yet, true presence, or “being with” another person, carries with it a silent power—to bear witness to a passage, to help carry an emotional burden, or to begin a healing process. In it, there is an intimate connection with another that is perhaps too seldom felt in a society that strives for ever-faster “7)connectivity.”
I was first 8)hurled into an 9)ambivalent presence many years ago, when a friend’s mother died unexpectedly. I had received a phone call from the hospital where she had just passed away. Part of me wanted to rush down there, but another part of me didn’t want to intrude on this 10)acute and very personal phase of grief. I was torn about what to do. Another friend with me at the time said, “Just go. Just be there.” I did, and I will never regret it.
Since that 11)formative moment, I have not hesitated to be in the presence of others for whom I could “do” nothing. I sat at the bedside, with other friends, of a young man in a 12)morphine coma to blunt the pain of his AIDS-related dying. We spoke to him about his inevitable journey out of this life. He later told his parents—in a brief moment of 13)lucidity—that he had felt us with him. Another time I visited a former colleague dying of cancer in a local 14)hospice. She too was not awake, and presumably unaware of others’ presence with her. The atmosphere was by no means solemn. Her family had 15)come to terms with her passing and were playing guitars and singing. They allowed her to be present with them as though she were still fully alive. With therapy clients I am still pulled by the need to do more than be, yet repeatedly struck by the healing power of connection created by being fully there in the quiet understanding of another. In it, none of us are truly alone.
The power of presence is not a one-way street, not only something we give to others. It always changes me, and always for the better.
最近,我和其他一些红十字会的志愿者见到了因卡特里娜飓风而被疏散离开家园的灾民,这让我想起了一个信念。我们作为精神科专家去到现场,提供“心理急救”。我们早就训练有素,知道要怎样进行“精神疏导”,给灾民讲解何谓“应激反应”,还要识别、排查出那些需要心理辅导的灾民,尽管如此,“在场”所带来的简单的治疗力量令我再次深受震撼。我们走进那临时安置点的大门,遇见的第一个人就已是满怀感激了。我感受到了那份感激,同时又怀有一种说不清道不明的惭愧的之感,因为我真的也还没做什么事。
“在场”是个名词,而非动词。它指的是一种存在的状态,而不是一种行为。“在场”这种状态在那些奉行行动至上的文化中,并没给予过多重视。然而,真正的“在场”,或者说与另一个人“在一起”,包含着一种无声的力量——见证一段时光,帮着分担一种精神负担,或是开始一段疗程。在这其中,人与人之间产生了一种亲密的联系,而这种联系对于一个崇尚快速建立联系的社会来说,是很少被觉察到的。
许多年前,我第一次被推入一个左右为难的“在场”境况中。那时,一个朋友的母亲突然去世,我收到她离世时所在的那间医院打来的电话。我一方面想赶到那里,另一方面又不想介入别人那强烈而很私人的悲伤之中。我焦灼不安,不知该怎么办。那时,我身边的一个朋友说道:“什么都别想,去吧,在那里呆着就好了。”我去了,而且我永远不会后悔我去了。
自那次对我影响颇深的瞬间抉择之后,我不再犹豫去陪伴他人,尽管我不能为其“做”些什么。一个艾滋病发作的小伙子为镇痛注射了吗啡,昏迷于病榻,我和其他一些朋友坐在他床边,跟他说着人生那难逃的最后一程。后来,在他醒过来的某个瞬间,他跟父母亲说,他感觉到我们和他在一起。还有一次,我到一家临终安养院去探望一个因患有癌症而处于死亡边缘的旧同事。她也处于昏迷状态中,大概不知道有人和她在一起。病房里的气氛却一点儿也不死气沉沉。她的家人早已坦然接受了她要离去的事实,他们弹着吉他,唱着歌,让她和他们呆在一起,仿佛她还是个健康的人。对那些来接受心理辅导的病人,我还是总想多“做”些什么,而不是单纯“陪”着他们,然而我不断震惊于两心相系所带来的治疗力量,这种力量产生于全身心陪伴在一个人的身边,默默地给予理解和支持。在这其中,我们每个人都不会真正感到孤独。
“在场”所带来的力量不是一条“单行道”,不全在于我们对他人的付出。这种力量一直在改变着我,总让我变得更好。
