Psychoanalytic psychotherapy and therapy services in London
The Beauty and Meaning of Longing
Yet there is a quiet dignity in longing. It is the mark of our capacity to love what is not present — to remain connected to what is beyond possession.
The Romantic painters, poets, and composers — from Friedrich to Rilke to Chopin — all understood that longing is not merely a deficit; it is a mode of being alive to the world.
You might sometimes feel guilty for turning away, as though not keeping up with every story is a moral failure. But the truth is that no human being is designed to absorb the pain of the entire planet. Confusion, overwhelm, and even the impulse to retreat are not signs of weakness; they are simply part of what it means to be sensitive, to have a heart that is touched by the suffering of others.
As therapists are meant to be the ones who know how to sit still. We talk about containment, presence, the sacred value of the here-and-now. But even we—guardians of the analytic frame—are not immune to the guilty pleasure of gazing at the unfamiliar. A slow scroll through Turkish hammams, a documentary on Siberian reindeer herders, the oddly calming sight of Japanese forest monks sweeping temple grounds. There it is again: cultural voyeurism.
Variable rewards are so effective because they mimic a deeply ancient survival logic. In the wild, rewards were rarely consistent. You didn’t know when the next berry bush would appear or whether the rustle in the bushes meant danger or dinner. Unpredictability kept our ancestors alert and engaged. Those who stuck around the longest — watching, waiting, trying — often had the best chance of survival.
In an era of personal branding, viral opinions, and relentless self-promotion, humility seems to have become an anachronism—something quaint, even suspicious. It is hard to imagine a social media influencer celebrating their own modesty, or a politician admitting their uncertainty. Humility, once a prized virtue, has been edged out by a culture that rewards confidence, […]
I have walked the measured steps,
softened my voice, made myself small,
a shadow slipping through the world’s great machine—
O! How they love me when I am quiet!
When my hands are folded, when my anger is tucked away,
when I laugh at the right time, nod in the right places.
There was a time when education was seen as a gateway to self-improvement, a mark of aspiration, and even something admirable. To be thoughtful, well-read, and informed was considered a virtue. Today, however, a troubling shift has occurred. Being intellectual or well-informed is no longer “cool” in certain spaces, especially in the fast-moving, hyper-reactive world of social media. Instead, we are witnessing the rise of an alarming anti-intellectual culture, where wit is mistaken for wisdom, confidence trumps knowledge, and memes or tweets are seen as sufficient substitutes for careful thought.
Therapy is, by its nature, an intimate and private encounter. It is one of the last refuges from the noise of the world. People come to therapy not to hear their therapist’s worldview but to understand their own. The patient’s pain, conflict, or confusion must take center stage. Even the most well-meaning political commentary from a therapist risks turning therapy into something didactic or morale. It may subtly push a patient toward compliance with the therapist’s values, rather than helping them excavate and inhabit their own. For some practitioners, this traditional boundary is sacrosanct: it ensures that the work remains rooted in the patient’s inner life, not in the fleeting urgencies of external events.
The rise of AI therapy marks a fascinating and bittersweet development in the way we approach mental health. These tools, often driven by algorithms, chat interfaces, and programmed empathy, offer something profoundly useful: accessibility. For many, the barriers to traditional therapy—cost, availability, or even the intimidating nature of opening up to another human—are significantly reduced. […]
The Christmas Fairy’s Curse Every December, many of us are involuntarily cast as the Christmas Fairy. It’s a role that feels both magical and oppressive, full of glittering promise yet weighed down by thankless effort. You’re the one who orchestrates the tree, the gifts, the meals, the joy. It’s your quiet labor that keeps the […]