The author, Ruth Lampert, was a Gestalt therapist who studied under Arnold Beisser, M.D., at the Gestalt Therapy Institute of Los Angeles. Given that Dr. Beisser authored "The Paradoxical Nature of Change," which serves as the foundation for my discussion on the Enneagram, I find it fitting to conclude this series by sharing my commentary on her essay, “The Case for Going Gently,” available in its entirety here.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Dylan Thomas
“I was a teenager the first time I read Dylan Thomas' words to his dying father.”
Most of us resist impermanence. Instead, we have all sorts of ways to avoid the painful feeling associated with loss. Ruth Lampert, herself, lost her father suddenly at an early age.
“My own father died unexpectedly in his sleep when I was nine years old. Some part of me must have felt angry and betrayed, but at nine I could not articulate my grief, let alone rage.”
Over time, however, she processed her anger and eventually reached a point where she could simply "be with" or presence her essential aloneness, without needing to add or take away anything from her experience.
“I have since experienced the death of my grandmother in her eighties, my mother in her seventies, friends, colleagues, and teachers in their middle age, and young clients cruelly claimed by AIDS and cancer. Most of the time I desperately wanted the person to live and not die, but I have become very careful to not add my own need to the burden of the dying one, offering only unqualified loving support.”
She went so far as learning to accept life’s inevitable end, realizing that the body’s instinct to survive is not incompatible with the soul’s ultimate acquiescence to being.
"A good death" may be a rarity but it is not an oxymoron. I have been helped to understand this seeming paradox by the work and example of the late Gestalt therapist and teacher Arnold Beisser, M.D.”
She goes on the describe her former mentor as a model of acceptance. She explains that Dr. Beisser was a medical school graduate, Navy reserve officer, and tennis champion when in 1950 polio left him paralyzed from the neck down. Nevertheless, he went on to marry, to pursue his career, and to influence countless patients, students, and colleagues with his wisdom. In the 1970, he made an elegant proposal "The Paradoxical Theory of Change," in which he declared that the quickest path to growthful change is not via force (our own or someone else's) but through fully embracing the person we are, right here and right now, through a process of cultivating Presence.
Even though it's been around for 50 years, this idea remains novel. Lampert keenly observes that our approach to modern culture still resembles a zero-sum game, as evidenced by the metaphors we use for health and survival, which are often borrowed from the battlefield and the competitive realms of business and sports.
“We "win" or we "lose." Thus we have "weapons" to "conquer" cancer. Thus the obituaries daily give notice of fallen warriors who "lost a long fight with......." Thus we applaud those who "successfully" recover, and call them ‘super- stars.’”
“How we long to believe it is all within our control, that we can do it if we just try hard enough. Then we can avoid feeling wrenching pity for the child born deformed, for the family killed in a plane crash. Somehow, it must have been their responsibility. If only we try hard enough, say the right incantations, acquire the most lethal "weapons" to banish tragedy, we will be spared a similar fate.”
I am left pondering whether instead of framing everything as a game of winners and losers, we shifted our orientation to a world where collaboration guided us to align ourselves with what is Good, True, and Beautiful. How would the world transform if we prioritized connection over need for winning and embraced relatedness over fear of losing?
“Arnold Beisser never seemed to be embattled. He did not hate his disability or the prospect of death, and since hate is a necessary component of warfare, he did not go to war.”
Instead, Beisser accepted his fate and passed away at the age of 60. Does this imply that he "failed" in his attempts to recover? As Lampert rightly points out, such a notion is absurd.
“It is his response to disability and loss that inspires us. He transformed his tragic circumstances by going gently.”
Lampert herself passed away relatively young at the age of 65. Ironically, she concludes her essay by posing a poignant question:
“Is longevity all we aspire to? Do we admire a rose less because it will not live as long as an oak tree?”
When I am at my best, I prioritize quality over quantity. However, when I find myself entrenched in my ego—the part of me that fights for survival—I resist this mindset. As I calm down, I am able to align with the serenity prayer, as Lampert suggests. This prayer seeks the courage to change what can be changed, the serenity to accept what cannot, and the wisdom to discern between the two. Acquiring this wisdom is unquestionably one of our most valuable and meaningful goals, Lampert asserts, and I wholeheartedly agree.
“We can, I believe, cherish life, work tirelessly to find cures and relieve suffering, and wear lipstick, while recognizing the truth and beauty of Buddha's words:
Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make your peace with that and all will be well.”
"Going gently" doesn’t imply being passive or meek. Instead, it means being attuned to what truly matters from moment to moment, neither more nor less. Thinning out our habitual forms of self-protection brings us into direct relationship with life. Imagine if we all cared enough to cultivate this form of attention? Imagine the kind of world we would belong to and the kind of world that would belong to us? This possibility already exists at the edge of our awareness and its initiation lies within each of us.
What would you be willing to give up to take that first step now?
A beautiful reflection on Ruth Lampert's essay. When my wife was dying, The Five Invitations by Frank Ostaseski, an American Buddhist teacher and leader in end-of-life care, and Grace and Grit by Ken Wilber helped me through the grief and care for my wife and myself. I didn't rage. I seem to have an innate sense of acceptance whenever someone close to me dies.
I like the paradoxical change theory by Arnold Beisser. I find paradox is sacred.
If I were to not humbly reimagine Dylan's poem: "Go gently into that good night, in old age burn with life to the close of day and leave no ashes; Rage against injustice, if rage you must, and always glow with love."
Thank you Claudia. Acceptance of life as it is appears to be a powerful antidote to the relentless insistence of ego that it knows best how things should be. Thank you for such a gentle and elegant reminder.