This book was not an easy read - and I must admit that did not read all of the essays, the main reason being that some of them were over topics that, in all honesty, didn't hold my interest. What I did read, though, I found provocative and stimulating. Phillips clearly isn't the type of writer who pushes for systematic coherence or nit-picking precision, so I don't feel guilty about not finishing the entire thing. He is more of a playful writer, and (on his own account) more interested in saying phrases and sentences in an interesting way than in a supposedly "true" or "factual" way. He hopes (though he admits that this doesn't usually happen) that his readers will take away what they find interesting, rather than walk away thinking, "This is what Adam Phillips thinks about X."
With that, I leave you with a thought I've been chewing on which was inspired by this book: What if there are no experts on the "good life." What if there is no desired "normality" to be imposed on each other for ethical, religious, societal, or developmental purposes? What if psychoanalysis (and ethics more broadly) was conceived not as a trans-historical developmental plan for the ages in which we can easily point at individual persons and label them "developed" or "undeveloped," "sane" or "insane," but rather, as ways of talking with one another, ways of listening and learning from ourselves and each other, that help us discover, firstly, that none of us actually know what the hell we are talking about when it comes to life - not in any definitive or all-encompassing sense; and secondly, what if psychoanalysis could allow us to sit with this unknowing, maybe work with it, allow it to inspire us toward further creativity and passion, risk and play. Couldn't psychoanalysis (and ethics) forego talk of certainty and instead confess that nobody is an expert on life, how to live, how to live a good life. What if coherence is an unacknowledged idol, and improvisation an untried virtue? If we start from here, in a place of improvisation, and then try out different conceptions of the good life - by talking about feeling-states, experiences, aliveness, how actions and emotions feel, how others make us feel, etc. in community - in a non-dogmatic, open way we might find that our capacities for life, our ability to taste spices and flavors unknown to us before, unimagined before, are now available and even a crucial element to our sensitive and multifaceted beings. We might also find that, with time, we can learn to value, even cherish, what we at one point most hated about ourselves - learn to love that which we once despised. Phillips, and others, especially within the psychoanalytic tradition of Winnicott, Bion, Eigen and others, aspire to be open to emotional reality, to the mysteriousness of aliveness, to all of our capacities, utilizing parts of us that we are repressing, without necessarily foreclosing this openness. This sort of activity is not easy, not comfortable, sometimes (even oftentimes) very painful. But with time, our emotional maturity will grow, like a muscle. One might find that one experiences oneself as most alive when always living dangerously, living explosively, letting the unconscious desires pull one in different directions - at the same time. One might find at first that one experiences oneself as most alive when reading, painting, calmly, cooly, in silence - and this is all one can take. We must each decide how much of ourselves, how much of our emotional reality, we can handle. And that is different for each of us. What I love about Phillips and these other psychoanalytic thinkers is that they try to open up a space for persons to do that, to experience their own experiencing, to live out of their own capacities, to sit with the dark feelings, the emotional storms, to make friends with our demons, and see what the hell comes of it - hopefully, and, against what seemed to be all odds, something beautiful does come from the struggle, from the emotional storms inside of us that we fear will tear us apart, like tornados tear roofs, and planks of wood, and sofas, and cows, and cherished possessions all over the neighborhood, sometimes all over the town. Maybe these tornados that threaten to tear us apart might be the very force, catalyst, for ripping us away from our chains, setting us free from a more deeper despair. Who knows? What I glean from Phillips is that one might let oneself die, taste death, sit in the emotional storm, break down, so that one might come back to life again, laugh, hug, and dance - carrying in oneself a more rich experience and awareness after the fact.
Somewhere in the book, Phillips claims that psychoanalysis, among other things (this caveat is so important since psychoanalysis isn't some "one" thing at all), allows us to say things that we didn't know we were capable of saying. When I read that, I thought, YES! That's exactly right! There is so much more to our feeling, such emotional depths - Jung called it "the depths" - housing so much more insight, so many more ways of feeling, thinking, talking, living that we sadly forego because we are so utterly fixated on "one" way of being, one cure. The virtue of psychoanalysis is that it thinks our ideas of a "cure" are part of the problem. Psychoanalysis and ethics can't fix anybody. But perhaps they can offer us creative ways of exploring how we want to live, how we want to die, and why we want what we want. I take Phillips to be one of those pomo psychoanalysts who is in the business (not that this is anything like a business - it isn't) of helping people discover what their own good life looks like. Phillips resists normopathy altogether. And hopefully a large portion of that "good life" will be made up of an open-endedness that is alive for experience, alive toward our fundamentally mysterious and infinite emotional reality and capabilities. There are many conceptions of the good life, many ways of living good lives. Let's go discover them, talk about them, learn from them, and live them again and again together.
It should be noted that Phillips says in the Introduction that he thinks this more experimental style of psychoanalysis should not refute or overtake the more systematic, developmental styles of psychoanalysis. There should be no one style of psychoanalysis at the center stage. We need all of the schools to be in constant dialogue without reductionism. As Nietzsche thought, we are both Apollonian and Dionysian, white swan and black swan, calm and chaos, coherence and incoherence. There should be no unchanging and fixed center, no one-directional way of thinking or being, no arresting of the play (Derrida). Eigen describes the process of expanding one's psychic tastebuds. Indeed, there is so much to work with here, so many possibilities, such texture and flavor to be savored.