To Change you must be willing to embrace loss
What John doesn't know is that I'm reeling from last night, when the man I thought I was going to marry unexpectedly called it quits. Today I'm trying to focus on my patients (allowing myself to cry only in the ten-minute breaks between sessions, carefully wiping away my running mas-cara before the next person arrives). In other words, I'm dealing with my pain the way I suspect John has been dealing with his: by covering it up.
As a therapist, I know a lot about pain, about the ways in which pain is tied to loss. But I also know something less commonly understood: that change and loss travel together. We can't have change without loss, which is why so often people say they want change but nonetheless stay exactly the same.
Yet, certainly, the wise learn many things from their enemies; for caution preserves all things. From a friend you could not learn this, but your foe immediately obliges you to learn it. For example, the states have learned from enemies, and not from friends, to build lofty walls, and to possess ships of war. And this lesson preserves children, house, and possessions.
The present theory then must be considered to be a suggested program or framework for future research and must stand ...
It’s saying no.
That’s your first hint that something’s alive. It says no. That’s how you know a baby is starting to turn into a person. They run around saying no all day, throwing their aliveness at everything to see what it’ll stick to. You can’t say no if you don’t have desires and opinions and wants of your own. You wouldn’t even want to.
No is the heart of thinking.