Breve nota teorica, estratta dal commento a "Ixy"/ A short theoretical note, extracted from the comment to "Ixy"

L'écriture di cui ha scritto e parlato Derrida ha strette parentele con le trasformazioni del corpo e della mente, e dell'insieme delle relazioni. Non è (solo) questione di stati alterati di coscienza, che pure vengono prodotti (o stanno alla base)- ma è proprio una trasformazione fattuale che viene prodotta con questo agencement (e in questa concatenazione). Perchè in fondo l'identità del soggetto (anche la mia, certo) è molteplice e instabile, aperta in mille direzioni, per sempre.

The écriture Derrida wrote and spoke of has a narrow relationship with the transformations of the body and of the mind and of the conglomerate of relationships. It is not (just) a question of altered states of consciousness- (which are anyway evoked -or are at the base); - but it is properly a factual transformation which is produced with this agencement (and in this concatenation). Because in fact the identity of a subject (mine too, of course) is multiple and unstable, and opened up into a thousand directions, forever.

Ixy [1997]

(3 maggio)    Un giorno si guardò indietro. Tante cose aveva trascurato e lasciato da parte, volti incontrati e scambiati perduti (oasi di verde); e ogni dubbio si era trasformato in rinuncia. L. diceva: come Cassandra! Ma no, mentre il party si svolgeva, le cose si rimettevano in moto. E le coppie che si isolavano negli angoli, una cubista illuminata, droghe varie, sintetiche e non. Certo, Gibson aveva previsto tutto (descritto tutto?)- ma la fabula precipitava sempre verso il lieto fine, e ciò non era accettabile assolutamente. Che un’isola sorga nella baia di Tokyo, bene: è già stato progettato, sarà stato fatto. Ma che la vicenda di Rez e Toei e Chia e Laney abbia degli overtones mistici (come sempre) è eccessivo. Anyway: è così dolce il corpo incarnato.

(Un macho man combatteva nella radura. Sogno di un sogno di un sogno. Il giaguaro si avvicina, le macchie della pelliccia sono come stelle, ed il cielo improvvisamente si mette a ruotare. La lotta prosegue.)

G. aveva avuto un insight, finalmente. Lo conservava dentro di sè, come un gioiello, lo sentiva caldo e dolce, una presenza, come. “Ho un’anima”, si disse. Ciò lo eccitava.

Macchie sul vetro del finestrino gli ricordarono la sua casa. Chretién: la dama vedova, i campi, i servi a cacciare. E tre gocce di sangue sulla neve. Nuovi argomenti affluivano sull’importanza della poesia: spacca la testa e fa nascere un mondo nuovo (no: questo era un altro discorso).

(Ominous).

L’incontro ebbe luogo nel piazzale della stazione. Kathy aveva un giornale, come si vede nei film (non si erano mai visti). Non che ne nascesse poi una grande relazione : lei una psicologa classe media piena di desiderio di visitare l’Italia (Botticelli!), lui sperduto nelle avenues di New York, buttato lì come da un disastro. E lei non era particolarmente bella nè particolarmente viva. Il che era davvero un peccato.

Tailleur, scialle di seta, appoggiata al monumento a Wahington, un sorriso timido, fa cenno con la mano come per dire addio.


(12 agosto)    Venendo dal ponte, andando al ponte, Ixy guarda in alto. Forse le cose cambieranno, potrà scappare. L’esercito della Dea si aggira, malviventi si nascondono negli angoli, ed i ribelli.

Ho pensato: non ci possiamo fermare adesso neanche volendo. You can’t stop it now. Jarvis Cocker.

La storia di Disco 2000 (Disco two thousand), la canzone del loro amore. La ragazza e il ragazzo che si guardano, si incontrano, vanno via insieme, scopano (lui che li guarda dallo schermo, cantando).

(17 agosto)    E tutto aveva un ritmo adesso, forse (il ritmo, il ritmo- stiamo vibrando, trasformati), tutto aveva un ritmo. Non solo l’accumulo di esperienze, o i giri di frase, o i momenti intensi, o il piacere dato, ricevuto (humanist psychology); non solo il gioco delle anticipazioni e dei rimandi, la retorica del racconto, Wayne Booth ed Henry James- no: come uno sfinimento ripreso, una fine che continua, una rana che balza in uno stagno ed un drago alla prima svolta del sentiero; un thud thud che è il cuore del mondo, dell’universo, che batte, il suo volto ed il volto di lei stampati sulle pareti, e gli altri, la certezza di altri, l’odore e sapore di altri- il cd trasmetteva ondate di musica che planavano per le foreste del Pleistocene (thud thud), l’aria era, appunto, carica di mille profumi: qualcosa che allargava l’anima, faceva sì che si potesse essere consapevoli di ogni molecola del proprio corpo e del corpo dell’altro (altra); i colori variavano, si poteva allungare le mani, percorrere insieme la valle, andare e ritornare. Con un ritmo, nel tempo. Con lui (lei). Con altri.

(G: decise che doveva pensarci su, provare a dormire.)
Ixy lo aspettava,

Ixy era nata in un sobborgo industriale. Infanzia trascorsa a fare il maschiaccio, giocare a palla nei vicoli, show televisivi e telenovelas infinite. Ricordava ancora lo sconvolgimento delle prime mestruazioni, il corpo che si era trasformato, & trascinarsi nei viali di sera. Tutto finito, adesso?

(8 novembre)    L’antagonista compare in scena, rivestito di trampoli. L’uniforme che indossa è azzurra. Sorride un po’ irridente, sa che in fondo tutto si metterà a posto. ‘E ben pagato, ha un ubi consistam, si sente giustificato e riverito. Non deve nemmeno essere particolarmente crudele.

(9 novembre)    E Sam la rapisce, e la porta in un sotterraneo, e la violenta. Questo ha un andamento archetipico, naturalmente. La cosa sicura è che si è fatta molta strada dalla festa dell’inizio, dove il nostro eroe si aggirava tutto sommato rilassato, non coinvolto, senza preoccupazioni eccessive.
(ti amo ti amo ti amo).
Ixy era stata corrotta da Sam (molto tempo prima). G. e Ixy si incontrano in un albero. La situazione politica spiega tutto.
Chiedere aiuto a K.? che senso poteva avere? meglio mettersi al lavoro, con serietà. (Con una certa speranza nascosta nel profondo del cuore): con una certa speranza nascosta nel profondo del cuore.


(10 novembre)    ‘E stato tutto un sogno, dunque. Non sono reali questi pericoli, queste vittorie. La musica mi porta dove voglio andare. Sento tenerezza, tanta tenerezza; restatemi vicino (le ultime parole di Dutch Schulz- prima dello scontro al guado; prima dell’assalto alla banca; la leggenda e la perdita; il suo dolore). (Ixy era una ragazza della classe media/operaia, nata in un quartiere industriale, ai tempi in cui il dominio della dea era ancora saldo. Ixy.)

Ixy lo aspettava.

Henri Ellenberger: Flournoy/ Jung 1912 and 1913-19 ["The Discovery of the Unconscious", 1970, excerpts]

CLICK TO ENLARGE

[Henri Ellenberger (1905-1993)

Né en Rhodésie, de parents français dans une colonie anglaise (il est issu d'une famille de missionnaires protestants d'origine suisse), il aurait dû avoir la nationalité française. Mais comme son père avait oublié de le déclarer au consulat de France, il était porteur d'un passeport anglais. Néanmoins plus tard, sa femme apatride, ses enfants et lui-même se firent naturaliser français. En 1941, risquant d'être dénaturalisé par le gouvernement de Vichy, il émigra en Suisse.

Il fait ses études de psychiatrie à Strasbourg, puis va habiter à Paris où il épouse une jeune fille d'origine russo-balte et de religion orthodoxe. Au début des années 1930, il rencontre à Saint Anne, l'histoire de cette psychiatrie dynamique, dont il racontera l'aventure, trente ans plus tard. Il a dirigé des services de psychiatrie à Topeka aux États-Unis puis à Montréal où il a occupé le poste de Professeur de criminologie.

Ellenberger fait une analyse didactique avec Oskar Pfister alors âgé de 77 ans, de 1949 à 1952. Il songe alors à devenir membre de la Société suisse de psychanalyse (SSP).^[1]

Dans les années 50, il a alors acquis une grande connaissance de l'histoire de la psychiatrie et de la psychanalyse en Europe. Il parle et écrit avec aisance le français, l'anglais, et l'allemand et s'intéresse à l'évolution de toutes les formes de guérison psychique. Il se rend aux États-Unis, pour un voyage d'études et la rencontre de Karl Menniger ainsi que le séjour dans sa clinique de Topeka au Kansas va déterminer l'orientation de ses travaux à venir.^[2].

En 1953, après avoir reçu le titre de professeur à la Menninger School of Psychiatry, il aurait dû s'installer définitivement aux États-Unis, mais comme son épouse était née en Russie, et compte tenu du contexte de la Guerre froide, elle ne peut obtenir de visa longue durée. Alors, en 1959, ils prennent la décision de vivre à Montréal où il obtient la chaire de criminologie à l'Allen Memorial Institute de l'université McGill. Le Québec sera sa dernière terre d'accueil. Il y mourra en mai 1993. Son apport a formé nombre d'historiens de la psychanalyse freudisme américains. [http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_Ellenberger]

Fra le sue opere fondamentali , la collaborazione con Rollo May e Ernest Angel a 'Existence. A new dimension in psychiatry and phenomenology', della Basic Books nel 1958: il massiccio volume che portò negli USA e non solo la psichiatria fenomenologica e esistenziale, e il cui valore si può desumere da una semplice lettura dei contributi che contiene:

"Contents
Preface, vii
PART I: INTRODUCTION
I The Origins and Significance of the
Existential Movement in Psychology
by Rollo May, 3
II Contributions of Existential Psychotherapy
by Rollo May, 37
III A Clinical Introduction to Psychiatric
Phenomenology and Existential Analysis
by Henri F. Ellenberger, 92
PART II: PHENOMENOLOGY
IV Findings in a Case of Schizophrenic Depression
by Eugene Minkowski, trans, by Barbara Bliss, 127
V Aesthesiology and Hallucinations
by Erwin W. Straus, trans, by Erwin W.
Straus and Bayard Morgan, 139
VI The World of the Compulsive
by V. E. von Gebsattel, trans, by
Sylvia Koppel and Ernest Angel, 170
IX
Contents x
PART III: EXISTENTIAL ANALYSIS
VII The Existential Analysis School of Thought
by Ludwlg Binswanger, trans, by Ernest Angel, 191
VIII Insanity as Life-Historical Phenomenon
and as Mental Disease: the Case of Use
by Ludwig Binswanger, trans, by Ernest Angel, 214
IX The Case of Ellen West
by Ludwig Binswanger, trans, by
Werner M. Mendel and Joseph Lyons, 237
X The Attempted Murder of a Prostitute
by Roland Kuhn, trans, by Ernest Angel, 365
Biographical Notes of Translated
Contributors, 429
Index, 435"  

Nel successivo "The Discovery of the Unconscious" veniva dato un contributo fondamentale sia alla storia intellettuale del 19° e 20° secolo, che una rivoluzionaria analisi del sorgere della psichiatria dinamica, ben al di là delle vulgate delle varie scuole- con una rara capacità di penetrazione intellettuale e partecipazione emotiva; un libro che rimane un classico assoluto.]

Henri Ellenberger: Flournoy/ Jung 1912 and 1913-19  ["The Discovery of the Unconscious", 1970, excerpts]


CLICK TO ENLARGE

 

[v.http://gconse.blogspot.com/2011/04/dalle-indie-al-pianeta-marte.html ]

Des Indes à la Planète Mars/ dalle Indie al pianeta Marte [Théodore Flournoy, 1900]

[http://www.sacred-texts.com/ufo/ipm/index.htm]

[http://www.psychanalyse-paris.com/Introduction-et-apercu-general.html]

Théodore Flournoy, Des Indes à la planète Mars. Étude sur un  cas de somnambulisme avec glossolalie, 1900

CHAPITRE PREMIER
Introduction et aperçu général

Au mois de décembre 1894, je fus invité par M. Auguste Lemaître, professeur au Collège de Genève, à assister chez lui à quelques séances d’un médium non professionnel et non payé, dont on m’avait déjà vanté de divers côtés les dons extraordinaires et les facultés apparemment supranormales. Je n’eus garde, comme bien l’on pense, de laisser échapper une telle aubaine, et me trouvai au jour dit chez mon aimable collègue.

Le médium en question, que j’appellerai Mlle Hélène Smith, était une grande et belle personne d’une trentaine d’années, au teint naturel, à la chevelure et aux yeux presque noirs, dont le visage intelligent et ouvert, le regard profond mais nullement extatique, éveillaient immédiatement la sympathie. Rien de l’aspect émacié ou tragique qu’on prête volontiers aux sibylles antiques, mais un air de santé, de robustesse physique et mentale, faisant plaisir à voir et qui n’est point d’ailleurs un fait très rare chez les bons médiums.

Dès que nous fûmes au complet, nous nous assîmes en cercle, les mains sur la traditionnelle table ronde des groupes spirites, et bientôt Mlle Smith, qui possédait la triple médiumité voyante, auditive et typtologique [1], se mit à décrire de la façon la plus naturelle les apparitions variées qui surgissaient à ses yeux dans la douce pénombre de la chambre. Par moment, elle s’interrompait pour écouter ; quelque nom résonnant à son oreille et qu’elle nous répétait avec étonnement, ou de laconiques indications épelées en coups frappés par la table, venaient compléter ses visions en précisant leur signification. Pour ne parler que de ce qui me concerne (car nous fûmes trois à partager les honneurs de cette soirée), je ne fus pas peu surpris de reconnaître, dans les scènes que Mlle Smith vit se dérouler dans l’espace vide au-dessus de ma tête, des événements de ma propre famille antérieurs à ma naissance. D’où pouvait donc venir à ce médium, que je rencontrais pour la première fois, la connaissance de ces incidents anciens, d’ordre privé et à coup sûr bien ignorés de la génération présente ? Les prouesses retentissantes de Mme Piper, l’illustre médium bostonien dont la géniale intuition lit dans les souvenirs latents de ses visiteurs comme en un livre ouvert, me revinrent à la mémoire, et je sortis de cette séance avec un renouveau d’espoir - l’espoir si souvent déçu, vestige des curiosités enfantines et de l’attrait du merveilleux, qui rêve de se trouver enfin une bonne fois face à face avec du « supranormal », mais du vrai et de l’authentique : télépathie, clairvoyance, manifestation spirite, ou autre chose, n’importe quoi, pourvu que cela sorte décidément de l’ordinaire et fasse sauter tous les cadres de la science établie.

Sur le passé de Mlle Smith, je n’obtins à cette époque que des renseignements sommaires, mais tout à fait favorables et que la suite n’a fait que confirmer.

D’une situation modeste, et d’une irréprochable moralité, elle gagnait honorablement sa vie comme employée dans une maison de commerce où son travail, sa persévérance et ses capacités l’avaient fait arriver à l’un des postes les plus importants. Il y avait trois ans qu’initiée au spiritisme et introduite par une amie dans un cercle intime où l’on interrogeait la table, on s’était presque aussitôt aperçu de ses remarquables facultés « psychiques ». Depuis lors elle avait fréquenté divers groupes spirites. Sa médiumité avait dès le début présenté le type complexe que j’ai décrit tout à l’heure, et ne s’en était jamais écartée des visions en état de veille, accompagnées de dictées typtologiques et d’hallucinations auditives. Au point de vue de leur contenu, ces messages avaient pour la plupart porté sur des événements passés, ordinairement ignorés des personnes présentes, mais dont la réalité s’était toujours vérifiée en recourant soit aux dictionnaires historiques, soit aux traditions des familles intéressées. À ces phénomènes de rétrocognition ou d’hypermnésie, s’étaient jointes occasionnellement, suivant les séances et les milieux, des exhortations morales dictées par la table, en vers plus souvent qu’en prose, à l’adresse des assistants ; des consultations médicales avec prescriptions de remèdes généralement heureux ; des communications de parents ou d’amis récemment décédés ; enfin des révélations aussi piquantes qu’invérifiables sur les antériorités (c’est-à-dire les existences antérieures) des assistants, lesquels, presque tous spirites convaincus, n’avaient été qu’à demi étonnés d’apprendre qu’ils étaient la réincarnation qui de Coligny, qui de Vergniaud, qui de la princesse de Lamballe ou d’autres personnages de marque.

Il convient enfin d’ajouter que tous ces messages paraissaient plus ou moins liés à la présence mystérieuse d’un « esprit » répondant au nom de Léopold, qui se donnait pour le guide et le protecteur du médium.

Je ne tardai pas à faire plus ample connaissance avec Hélène Smith. Elle voulut bien venir donner des séances chez moi, alternant d’une façon plus ou moins régulière avec celles qu’elle avait chez M. Lemaître et dans quelques autres familles, en particulier chez M. le professeur Cuendet, vice-président de la Société [spirite] d’études psychiques de Genève. Ces divers milieux ne constituent point des groupes absolument séparés et exclusifs les uns des autres, car leurs membres se sont souvent mutuellement conviés à leurs réunions respectives. C’est ainsi que j’ai pu assister à la plupart des séances d’Hélène au cours de ces cinq années. Les observations personnelles que j’y ai recueillies, complétées par les notes que MM. Lemaître et Cuendet ont eu l’obligeance de me fournir sur les réunions auxquelles je n’étais pas présent, constituent la base principale de l’étude qui va suivre. Il y faut joindre quelques lettres de Mlle Smith, et surtout les nombreuses et très intéressantes conversations que j’ai eues avec elle, soit avant ou après les séances, soit dans les visites que je lui ai faites à son domicile, où j’avais l’avantage de pouvoir également causer avec sa mère. Enfin, divers documents et renseignements accessoires, qui seront cités en leurs temps et lieu, m’ont permis d’élucider en partie certains points obscurs. Mais tant s’en faut qu’avec toutes ces voies d’informations je sois arrivé à débrouiller d’une manière satisfaisante les phénomènes complexes qui constituent la médiumité d’Hélène. Leur enchevêtrement est tel, leurs racines sont si profondément cachées dans le passé de sa vie, leur interprétation est si délicate, que j’ai le sentiment d’y avoir souvent perdu mon latin - je veux dire ma psychologie, car, en fait de langues, ce n’est pas de latin qu’il est question en cette affaire, comme on le verra.

À partir de l’époque où je fis la connaissance de Mlle Smith, c’est-à-dire dès l’hiver 1894-1895, beaucoup de ses communications spirites continuèrent à présenter les caractères de forme et de contenu que j’ai indiqués tout à l’heure, mais il se produisit cependant dans sa médiumité une double modification importante.

1. D’abord au point de vu de sa forme psychologique.

Tandis que, jusque-là, Hélène n’avait que des automatismes partiels - hallucinations visuelles, auditives, typtomotrices -compatibles avec une certaine conservation de l’état de veille et n’entraînant pas d’altérations notables de la mémoire, il lui arriva dès lors, et de plus en plus fréquemment, de perdre entièrement sa conscience normale et de ne retrouver, en revenant à elle, aucun souvenir de ce qui venait de se passer pendant la séance. En termes physiologiques, l’hémisomnambulisme sans amnésie auquel elle en était restée jusque-là, et que les assistants prenaient pour l’état de veille ordinaire, se transforma en somnambulisme total, avec amnésie consécutive. En langage spirite, M" Smith devint complètement intrancée, et, de simple médium voyant ou auditif qu’elle était, elle passa au rang supérieur de médium à incarnations.

Je crains que ce changement ne doive m’être en grande partie imputé, puisqu’il a suivi de près mon introduction aux séances d’Hélène. Ou du moins, si le somnambulisme devait fatalement se développer un jour en vertu d’une prédisposition organique et de la tendance facilement envahissante des états hypnoïdes, il est cependant probable que j’ai contribué à le provoquer, et en ai hâté l’apparition, par ma présence et les petites expériences que je me permis sur Hélène.

On sait, en effet, que les médiums sont volontiers entourés d’une auréole de vénération qui les rend intangibles. Il ne viendrait à l’idée de personne, dans les cercles bien pensants où ils exercent leur sacerdoce, de toucher à leur peau, surtout avec une épingle, ni même de leur palper ou pincer les mains pour tâcher de voir ce qu’il en est de leurs fonctions sensitives et motrices. Le silence et l’immobilité sont de rigueur pour ne pas troubler le déroulement spontané des phénomènes ; tout au plus se permet-on quelques questions ou remarques à l’occasion des messages obtenus ; à plus forte raison ne s’y livre-t-on à aucune manipulation sur le médium. Mlle Smith avait toujours été entourée de cette respectueuse considération. Pendant les trois premières séances auxquelles je pris part, je me conformai strictement à l’attitude passive et purement contemplative des autres assistants, et me tins assez joliment coi et tranquille. Mais, à la quatrième réunion, ma sagesse fut à bout. Je ne résistai pas à l’envie de me rendre compte de l’état physiologique de ma charmante visionnaire, et j’entrepris quelques expériences fort élémentaires sur ses mains qui reposaient gracieusement étalées vis-à-vis de moi sur la table. Le résultat de ces essais, repris et poursuivis à la séance suivante (3 février 1895), fut de montrer qu’il existe chez Mlle Smith, pendant qu’elle a ses visions, toute une collection de troubles très variés de la sensibilité et de la motilité, qui avaient jusque-là échappé aux assistants [2], et qui sont foncièrement identiques à ceux qu’on observe d’une façon plus permanente chez les hystériques ou qu’on peut momentanément produire par la suggestion chez les sujets hypnotisés.

Il n’y a rien là d’étonnant et l’on pouvait s’y attendre. Mais une conséquence que je n’avais point prévue fut que, quatre jours après cette seconde séance d’expérimentation bien anodine, Mlle Smith, pour la première fois [3] s’endormit complètement à une réunion chez M. Cuendet (7 février), à laquelle je n’étais point présent. Les assistants furent quelque peu effrayés lorsque, essayant de la réveiller, ils constatèrent la rigidité de ses bras contracturés ; mais Léopold, parlant par la table sur laquelle Hélène était appuyée, les rassura et leur apprit que ce sommeil n’était point préjudiciable au médium. Après diverses attitudes et une mimique souriante, Mlle Smith se réveilla d’excellente humeur, conservant comme dernier souvenir de son rêve celui d’un baiser de Léopold qui l’avait embrassée sur le front.

À partir de ce jour, les somnambulismes d’Hélène furent la règle, et les séances où elle ne s’endort pas complètement, au moins pendant quelques moments, ne forment que de rares exceptions au cours de ces quatre dernières années. Pour Mlle Smith, c’est une privation que ces sommeils dont il ne lui reste ordinairement aucun souvenir au réveil, et elle regrette les réunions du bon vieux temps, où les visions se déroulant devant son regard éveillé lui fournissaient un spectacle inattendu et toujours renouvelé qui faisait de ces séances une partie de plaisir. Pour les assistants, en revanche, les scènes de somnambulismes et d’incarnations, avec les phénomènes physiologiques divers, catalepsie, léthargie, contractures, etc., qui s’y entremêlent, ajoutent une grande variété et un puissant intérêt de plus aux très remarquables et instructives productions médiumiques d’Hélène Smith.

Le plus entraîne aussi le moins, quelquefois. Avec les accès de complet somnambulisme, et dans le même temps, sont apparues de nouvelles formes et d’innombrables nuances d’hémisomnambulisme. Le triple genre d’automatisme qui distinguait déjà Mlle Smith dans les premières années de ses pratiques spirites a été bien vite dépassé à partir de 1895, et il n’est pour ainsi dire aucun mode principal de médiumité psychique dont elle n’ait fourni de curieux échantillons. J’aurai l’occasion d’en citer plusieurs dans la suite de ce travail. Sans doute son répertoire ne contient pas toutes les variétés et qualités secondaires d’automatisme qui ont été observées ici ou là ; on ne peut demander l’impossible. Mais, à l’exception des phénomènes dits « physiques » qui paraissent nuls ou sont du moins très douteux chez Hélène, elle constitue le plus bel exemple que j’aie jamais rencontré, et réalise certainement à un très haut degré l’idéal, de ce qu’on pourrait appeler le médium polymorphe ou multiforme, par opposition aux médiums uniformes, dont les facultés ne s’exercent guère que sous une seule espèce d’automatisme.

2. Une modification analogue à celle que je viens d’indiquer dans la forme psychologique des messages, c’est-à-dire un développement en richesse et en profondeur, se produisit vers le même moment dans leur contenu.

À côté des petites communications complètes en une fois, indépendantes les unes des autres et comme égrenées, qui remplissaient chez Hélène une bonne partie de chaque séance et ne différenciaient en rien ses facultés de celles de la plupart des médiums, il s’était, dès le début, manifesté chez elle une tendance marquée à une systématisation supérieure et à un plus grand enchaînement des visions ; c’est ainsi qu’à diverses reprises déjà on avait vu certaines communications se poursuivre à travers plusieurs séances, et n’arriver à leur terminaison qu’au bout de bien des semaines. Mais, à l’époque où je fis la connaissance de Mlle Smith, cette tendance à l’unité s’affirma avec plus d’éclat. On vit éclore et se développer peu à peu plusieurs longs rêves somnambuliques, dont les péripéties se déroulèrent pendant des mois, puis des années, et durent encore ; sortes de romans de l’imagination subliminale, analogues à ces « histoires continues » [4] que tant de gens se racontent à eux-mêmes, et dont ils sont généralement les héros, dans leurs moments de farniente ou d’occupations routinières qui n’offrent qu’un faible obstacle aux rêveries intérieures. Constructions fantaisistes, mille fois reprises et poursuivies, rarement achevées, où la folle du logis se donne libre carrière et prend sa revanche du terne et plat crie-a-terre des réalités quotidiennes.

Mlle Smith n’a pas moins de trois romans somnambuliques distincts. Si l’on y ajoute l’existence de cette seconde personnalité, que j’ai déjà laissé entrevoir et qui se révèle sous le nom de Léopold dans la plupart de ses états hypnoïdes, on est en présence de quatre créations subconscientes de vaste étendue, qui ont évolué parallèlement depuis plusieurs années, se manifestant en alternances irrégulières au cours de séances différentes et souvent aussi dans la même séance. Elles ont sans doute des origines communes dans le tréfonds d’Hélène, et elles ne se seront pas développées sans s’influencer réciproquement et contracter certaines adhérences au cours du temps ; mais - à supposer même qu’il n’y faille voir en dernier ressort que les ramifications d’un seul tronc, ou les parties ébauchées d’un tout dont la synthèse s’achèvera un jour (si elle n’est déjà accomplie dans quelque couche subliminale encore inconnue) - en pratique du moins et en apparence ces constructions imaginatives présentent une indépendance relative et une diversité de contenu assez grandes pour qu’il convienne de les étudier séparément. Je me bornerai en cet instant à en donner une vue générale.

Deux de ces romans se rattachent à l’idée spirite des existences antérieures. Il a été révélé, en effet, qu’Hélène Smith a déjà vécu deux fois sur notre globe. Il y a cinq cents ans, elle était la fille d’un cheik arabe et devint, sous le nom de Simandini, l’épouse préférée d’un prince hindou, nommé Sivrouka Nayaka, lequel aurait régné sur le Kanara et construit en 1401 la forteresse de Tchandraguiri. Au siècle dernier, elle réapparut sous les traits de l’illustre et infortunée Marie-Antoinette. Réincarnée actuellement, pour ses péchés et son perfectionnement, dans l’humble condition d’Hélène Smith, elle retrouve en certains états somnambuliques le souvenir de ses glorieux avatars de jadis, et redevient momentanément princesse hindoue ou reine de France.

Je désignerai sous les noms de cycle hindou ou oriental et de cycle royall’ensemble des manifestations automatiques relatives à ces deux antériorités.

J’appellerai de même cycle martien le troisième roman, dans lequel Mlle Smith, grâce aux facultés médianimiques qui sont l’apanage et la consolation de sa vie présente, a pu entrer en relation avec les gens et les choses de la planète Mars et nous en dévoiler les mystères. C’est surtout dans ce somnambulisme astronomique que se sont produits les phénomènes de glossolalie, de fabrication et d’emploi d’une langue inédite, qui sont l’un des principaux objets de cette étude ; on verra cependant que des faits analogues se sont également présentés dans le cycle hindou.

Quant à la personnalité de Léopold, elle entretient des rapports fort complexes avec les créations précédentes. D’une part elle se rattache très étroitement au cycle royal, par le fait que ce nom même de Léopold n’est qu’un pseudonyme sous lequel se dérobe en réalité le célèbre Cagliostro, qui s’était, paraît-il, éperdument épris de la reine Marie-Antoinette et qui, actuellement désincarné et flottant dans les espaces, s’est constitué l’ange gardien en quelque sorte de Mlle Smith, depuis qu’après bien des recherches il a enfin retrouvé en elle l’auguste objet de sa passion malheureuse d’il y a un siècle. D’autre part, ce rôle de protecteur et de conseiller spirituel qu’il joue auprès d’Hélène lui confère une place privilégiée dans ses somnambulismes. Il est plus ou moins mêlé à la plupart d’entre eux ; il y assiste, les surveille, et peut-être les dirige jusqu’à un certain point. C’est ainsi qu’on le voit parfois, au milieu d’une scène hindoue ou martienne, manifester sa présence et dire son mot par des mouvements caractéristiques de la main. En somme - tantôt se révélant dans les coups frappés de la table, les tapotements d’un doigt, ou l’écriture automatique, tantôt s’incarnant complètement et parlant de sa voix par la bouche de M" Smith intrancée -, Léopold remplit dans les séances les fonctions multiples et variées d’esprit-guide qui donne de bons conseils relativement à la façon de traiter le médium ; de régisseur caché derrière les coulisses, surveillant le spectacle et toujours prêt à intervenir ; d’interprète bénévole disposé à fournir des explications sur les scènes muettes ou peu claires ; de censeur-moraliste dont les vertes semonces ne ménagent pas les vérités aux assistants ; de médecin compatissant prompt au diagnostic et versé dans la pharmacopée, etc. Sans parler des cas où, en tant que Cagliostro proprement dit, il se montre aux regards somnambuliques de Marie-Antoinette ressuscitée et lui donne la réplique en hallucinations auditives. Ce n’est pas tout encore, et il faudrait, pour être complet, examiner aussi les rapports personnels et privés de Mlle Smith avec son invisible protecteur. Car elle invoque et questionne souvent Léopold en son particulier, et, s’il reste parfois de longues semaines sans lui donner signe de vie, à d’autres moments il lui répond par des voix ou des visions, qui la surprennent en pleine veille, au cours de ses occupations, et il lui prodigue tour à tour les conseils matériels ou moraux, les avertissements utiles, les encouragements et les consolations dont elle a besoin. Mais tout cela dépasse le cadre de cet aperçu.

Si je me suis accusé d’avoir été peut-être pour beaucoup dans la transformation des hémisomnambulismes d’Hélène en somnambulisme total, je me crois en revanche absolument innocent de la naissance, sinon du développement ultérieur, des grandes créations subliminales dont je viens de parler. Pour ce qui est d’abord de Léopold, il est très ancien, et remonte même probablement, comme on le verra, beaucoup plus haut que l’initiation de M" Smith au spiritisme. Quant aux trois cycles, ils n’ont, il est vrai, commencé à déployer toute leur ampleur qu’après que j’eusse fait la connaissance d’Hélène, et à partir du moment où elle fut sujette à de véritables trances, comme si cette suprême forme d’automatisme était la seule pouvant permettre le plein épanouissement de productions aussi complexes, le seul contenant psychologique approprié et adéquat à un tel contenu. Mais leur première apparition est pour tous trois nettement antérieure à ma présence. Le rêve hindou, où l’on me verra jouer un rôle que je n’ai point cherché, a clairement débuté (le 16 octobre 1894) huit semaines avant mon admission aux séances de M" Smith. Le roman martien, datant de la même époque, se rattache étroitement, ainsi que je le montrerai, à une suggestion involontaire de M. Lemaître qui fit connaissance d’Hélène au printemps 1894, soit neuf mois avant moi. Le cycle royal enfin s’ébauchait déjà l’hiver précédent aux réunions tenues chez M. Cuendet dès décembre 1893. Toutefois ce n’est, je le répète, qu’à partir de 1895 qu’ont eu lieu la grande poussée et les magnifiques floraisons de cette luxuriante végétation subliminale, sous l’influence stimulante et provocatrice, quoique nullement intentionnelle ni même soupçonnée sur le moment même, des divers milieux où Mlle Smith faisait ses séances. Il faut naturellement renoncer à faire le départ des responsabilités dans cette suggestion globale, infiniment complexe, à laquelle non seulement M. Lemaître, M. Cuendet et moi-même avons évidemment coopéré chacun suivant son caractère et son tempérament, mais où sont aussi intervenus beaucoup d’autres agents, notamment les spectateurs occasionnels, très divers et au total assez nombreux, qui ont assisté à une ou plusieurs séances de Mlle Smith, ainsi que les personnes allant la consulter chez elle.

Pour ce qui est des indiscrètes révélations sur ma famille qui m’avaient tant étonné lors de ma première rencontre avec Mlle Smith, ainsi que des innombrables faits extraordinaires du même genre dont fourmille sa médiumité et auxquels elle doit son immense réputation dans les milieux spirites, ce sera assez tôt d’y revenir dans les derniers chapitres de ce travail. La question du caractère supranormal des communications obtenues par un médium, de quelque façon que vous la tranchiez, vous attirera toujours des ennuis, car on ne peut contenter tout le monde et soi-même. Il est donc d’une sage diplomatie de l’éluder jusqu’à la dernière extrémité, en même temps que d’une bonne méthode d’examiner le développement psychologique des automatismes avant de rechercher l’origine de leur contenu.

P.-S.

Texte établi par PSYCHANALYSE-PARIS.COM à partir de l’ouvrage de Théodore Flournoy,Des Indes à la planète Mars. Étude sur un cas de somnambulisme avec glossolalie, Éditions Alcan et Eggimann, Paris et Genève, 1900.

[v.http://gconse.blogspot.com/2011/04/henri-ellenberger-flournoy-jung-1912.html ]

Enrico Valtellina: 'Roussel – Janet – Roussel' [2009]

da TYSM  (http://tysm.org/?p=1643)

Roussel – Janet – Roussel

appunti su critica e clinica

enrico valtellina – copyleft 2009

Non un’analisi, il testo che segue è un foglio caduto dal tavolo di lavoro, metafora fuori tempo, piuttosto un copia e incolla. Tappa di un percorso. Toppa di un discorso.

Pierre Janet, clinico francese amico di Bergson, formatosi con Charcot alla Salpêtrière, cattedratico al Collège de France, stimato da Jung anche più di Freud e di cui Deleuze, in una lezione a Vincennes, dice essere grand parmi les plus grands, in uno dei suoi libri più suggestivi, De l’angoisse à l’extase, riporta il caso clinico di Martial. Martial Canterel è l’eroe di Locus solus. Quanti lo conoscano sanno che dietro l’avatar della divulgazione psichiatrica si cela Raymond Roussel.

Raymond Roussel, caso letterario, Raymond Roussel, caso clinico.

Del caso letterario si sono occupati Leiris, Foucault, Breton e tanti altri cultori delle eccellenze ai margini del campo letterario. Anche Sciascia ha scritto un bel libro sul caso, questa volta poliziesco-investigativo, del suo misterioso suicidio a Palermo.

Del caso clinico si è occupato Janet, che lo ha avuto in cura. Dopo Palermo, in cui lasciò la vita, Roussel avrebbe dovuto recarsi in Svizzera da Binswanger. Possiamo solo rimpiangere che l’incontro non abbia avuto luogo. Riporto i passi dedicati a Roussel in De l’angoisse à l’extase. A seguire brevi conclusioni.

Pierre Janet – De l’angoisse à l’extase

Estratti su Raymond Roussel

Dal vol. 1

Sono note le estasi di Plotino, quelle di Nietzsche e la celebre estasi di J. J. Rousseau al bois de Vincennes, rimando alle belle descrizioni che ne fa fatto Seillère. Ma voglio riportare una delle mie osservazioni, a cui farò riferimento anche nel seguito del testo, quella di Martial. Quest’uomo di quarantacinque anni, conduce una vita tutt’affatto singolare, vive solo, molto ritirato, molto isolato, in un modo che pare ben triste, ma che sembra riempirlo di gioia, visto che lavora pressoché costantemente. Lavora in modo regolare un numero determinato di ore al giorno, senza permettersi alcuna irregolarità, con un grande sforzo e spesso con grande fatica, ad elaborare delle grandi opere letterarie: «sanguino, dice, su ogni frase». Queste opere letterarie, di cui non è mio compito giudicare il valore, non hanno riscosso sino ad oggi alcun successo, non sono lette che da pochi iniziati, e per lo più vengono considerate insignificanti. Ma il loro autore coltiva rispetto ad esse un’attitudine ben peculiare: non solo prosegue il suo lavoro con instancabile perseveranza, ma afferma la convinzione assoluta ed inammovibile sul loro «incommensurabile valore artistico». La fiducia nel valore della propria opera, il richiamo alla posterità contro l’ingiustizia dei contemporanei, sono cose naturali in un autore ed in una certa misura legittime, ma sembra che in Martial tale convinzione si presenti in modo anormale. Attribuisce alle sue opere un’importanza smisurata, e non è mai smosso dall’evidenza degli insuccessi, non ammette per un istante che l’insuccesso sia giustificato da imperfezioni, non accetta la minima critica e il minimo consiglio, perseverando con fede assoluta nel destino che gli è riservato: «giungerò a vette estreme, e son nato per una gloria folgorante. Magari ci vorrà molto tempo, ma raggiungerò ad una gloria ancora maggiore di quella di Victor Hugo o di Napoleone. Wagner è morto venticinque anni troppo presto e non ha potuto conoscere la sua gloria, spero di vivere abbastanza per contemplare la mia… C’è in me una gloria immensamente potente, come in una granata non ancora esplosa… Questa gloria si diffonderà su tutte le mie opere senza eccezione, si rifrangerà su tutti gli atti della mia vita, ricercheranno ogni gesto della mia infanzia e ammireranno il modo in cui giocavo a “mondo”… Nessun autore è stato né potrà essermi superiore, anche se fino ad oggi nessuno se n’è accorto, che volete, ci sono granate che si innescano con difficoltà, ma quando esplodono! Che volete, ci sono dei predestinati! Come dice il poeta: ecco che si sente una bruciatura in fronte… La stella che si porta in fronte splende. Sì, ho sentito una volta che avevo la stella in fronte e non lo scorderò mai più». Queste affermazioni a proposito di opere che non sembrano destinate a conquistare un vasto pubblico e che tanto poco hanno attirato attenzione, sembrano indicare debolezza di giudizio o esaltazione d’orgoglio, evidentemente patologici e in rapporto ad uno stato di agitazione. Ora, Martial non merita né l’uno né l’altro rimprovero: è perfettamente giudizioso rispetto ad ogni altra questione, modesto e timido, piuttosto che esaltato, vive uno stato di depressione con tendenza alle ossessioni e alla debolezza della volontà riflessa. Questa convinzione di gloria non è in relazione con uno stato psicologico presente, è il residuo di un disordine psicologico ben precedente, che solo può darne spiegazione.

Martial, giovane nevropatico, timido, scrupoloso, spesso depresso, ha manifestato a diciannove anni uno stato mentale che egli stesso giudica straordinario. Rivoltosi alla letteratura, preferita ai suoi studi precedenti, intraprese la scrittura di un’opera in versi che intendeva concludere prima del compimento dei vent’anni. Giacché l’opera doveva realizzarsi in migliaia di versi, lavorava assiduamente, pressoché senza pause, giorno e notte, senza provare alcun senso di fatica. Poco a poco si senti pervadere da uno strano entusiasmo: «si sente quando c’è qualcosa di particolare che rende tale un capolavoro, che si è un prodigio: ci sono bambini prodigio che si manifestano a otto anni, io mi sono rivelato a diciannove anni. Ero pari a Dante e Shakespeare, provavo ciò che Victor Hugo, ormai anziano, sentiva a settant’anni, ciò che Napoleone sperimentò nel 1811, ciò che Tannhauser sognava al Venusberg: sentivo la gloria… No, la gloria non è un’idea, una nozione che si apprende constatando che il vostro nome volteggia sulle labbra degli uomini. No, non si tratta del sentimento del proprio valore, della consapevolezza che si merita la gloria. No, non sentivo il bisogno, il desiderio della gloria, e nemmeno ci avevo mai pensato in precedenza. Questa gloria era un fatto, una constatazione, una sensazione, avevo la gloria… Ciò che scrivevo era pervaso di sfavillii, serravo le tende per timore che potessero uscire dalla finestra i raggi luminosi che promanavano dalla mia penna, volevo d’un colpo ritrarle per illuminare il mondo. Trascinare questi fogli avrebbe prodotto dei raggi tanto luminosi che sarebbero giunti fino in Cina, e una folla sperduta si sarebbe abbattuta sulla mia casa. Poco potevano le mie precauzioni, la luce si irradiava dalla mia persona ed attraversava i muri, portavo il sole in me e non potevo impedire questa straordinaria folgorazione di me stesso. Ogni frase era ripetuta in migliaia di esemplari e scrivevo con migliaia di penne fiammeggianti. Con ogni probabilità, all’apparizione del volume, questo focolare abbagliante si sarebbe svelato e avrebbe illuminato l’universo, ma non sarebbe stato creato allora, lo portavo già in me… Vivevo uno stato di felicità sconosciuta, un colpo di piccone mi aveva fatto scoprire un filone meraviglioso, avevo vinto il premio più strabiliante. Ho vissuto più in quel momento che in tutto il resto della mia vita». Nel frattempo Martial si disinteressava di tutto il resto e gli costava fatica interrompere di quando in quando il lavoro per mangiare qualcosa. Non era assolutamente immobile, scriveva, faceva qualche passo, ma restava ore immobile, con la penna in mano, assorto nelle sue fantasticherie e nel sentimento della sua gloria.

Questo entusiasmo e questi sentimenti, con oscillazioni, si protrassero il tempo della scrittura dei suoi versi, cinque o sei mesi, diminuirono decisamente durante la stampa del volume. Quando il libro apparve, il giovane autore scese in strada colmo d’emozione e, quando si accorse che la gente non si voltava al suo passaggio, il sentimento di gloria e luminosità si esaurì bruscamente. Allora cominciò una profonda crisi di depressione melanconica accompagnata da un bizzarro delirio di persecuzione, una forma ossessiva dominata dall’idea delirante della denigrazione universale degli uomini, gli uni contro gli altri. Ritroveremo più oltre questo sentimento a proposito delle nostre ricerche sugli atti e i sentimenti di valorizzazione sociale. Questa depressione durò a lungo e guarì molto lentamente, lasciando tracce che permangono a tutt’oggi.

Ma da questa crisi di gloria e illuminazione ha conservato la convinzione inammovibile che egli aveva avuto la gloria, che possedva la gloria, che gli uomini la riconoscessero o meno, poco importa. Ama citare a tal proposito un passaggio del libro di Bergson sull’«energia spirituale»: «si tiene all’elogio e agli onori nell’esatta misura in cui non si è sicuri di essere riusciti. C’è della modestia, al fondo della vanità. È per rassicurarsi che si cerca l’approvazione ed è per sostenere la vitalità forse insufficiente della propria opera che la si vuole circondata dalla calorosa ammirazione degli uomini, come si mette nella bambagia il bimbo nato prematuro. Ma colui che è assolutamente certo di aver prodotto un’opera valida e durevole, non sa che farsene degli elogi e si sente al di sopra della gloria, perché sa che la gioia che prova è una gioia divina». Martial ha scritto altri volumi, è vero, ma non per realizzare qualcosa di superiore alla sua prima opera, non ci sono progressi nell’assoluto, ed egli ha raggiunto al primo volume l’assoluto della gloria. Al più, questi volumi ulteriori aiuteranno il pubblico ignorante e ritardatario a leggere e vedere gli irraggiamenti del primo.

Egli ha in effetti conservato un secondo sentimento, il desiderio intenso, la passione folle di ritrovare, non fosse che per cinque minuti, I sentimenti che hanno inondato il suo cuore per qualche mese quando aveva diciannove anni «Ah, quella sensazione di sole morale, non l’ho più ritrovata, la cerco costantemente e continerò sempre a cercarla. Scambierei tutti gli anni che mi restano da vivere per ritrovare per un istante quella gloria. Sono Tannhauser che rimpiange la Venusberg». Spera che un certo successo mondano potrebbe riportare quella sensazione interna di gloria, ed è per ciò che scrive nuovi libri e che talvolta si produce in manifestazioni autoaffermative. «Ma poco importa il loro successo o il loro fallimento, ciò rimanda solo la constatazione collettiva della gloria, ma non ne intacca in alcun modo la realtà».

Molte cose si possono apprendere da questa bella osservazione, segnalo solamente che su più punti si approssima a ciò che si ritrova nelle estasi religiose. In queste estasi laiche, in quelle di Jean-Jacques Rousseau, di Nietzsche, in quelle di Martial, ritroviamo l’arresto della maggior parte delle azioni esteriori, il lavoro interiore, la ripresentazione continua della storia, la fede assoluta che persiste successivamente alla crisi per anni e soprattutto il sentimento di gioia strabordante. Ma manca la grande e solenne immobilità dell’estasi, J. J. Rousseau va e viene, Martial conduce una vita pressoché normale, un pasto fugace poi torna nella sua camera, si siede alla scrivania e lavora, scrive, elabora indefinitamente i suoi versi. Il soggetto conserva interessi umani, perché la politica, la gloria letteraria, presuppongono che ci siano dei cittadini, dei lettori, che tengon conto delle loro azioni e delle loro opinioni. La felicità prospettata è decisamente grande, ma non differisce moltissimo dalla devozione che portiamo ai re o agli scrittori celebri, non è una felicità assolutamente inedita. Sarei portato a dire che questi stati, in particolare in Martial, sono analoghi alle consolazioni di Madeleine, quando esce dall’estasi, ai suoi stati di raccoglimento. Malgrado queste differenze, il contenuto delle idee si approssima alle concezioni religiose, si tratta di filosofia, di politica ideale, di letteratura immaginaria e di pura bellezza artistica. Martial coltiva una concezione decisamente interessante della bellezza letteraria, bisogna che l’opera non contenga nulla di reale, nessuna osservazione del mondo o degli spiriti, null’altro che combinazioni assolutamente immaginarie: sono idee di un mondo extra-umano. La vera estasi, con immobilità, disinteresse assoluto per la vita e una felicità al di là dell’esperienza umana, prenderà necessariamente una forma più religiosa, condurrà a una vita divina, una vita in Dio, una vita da Dio. L’osservazione di Flournoy ci presenta un individuo fino ad allora irreligioso che, dopo un periodo di esaurimento, sperimenta una autentica crisi d’estasi, in cui si sente sollevare, in cui «sente Dio»: «non è possibile, dice, che Mosè sul monte Sinai sia stato in una comunicazione più intima con Dio». In seguito a tale crisi rimase convinto di avere sentito Dio e si convertì. Le idee e i sentimenti religiosi fanno parte della definizione dell’estasi completa.

Dal vol. 2

Esiste, come ho dimostrato, un gruppo di fenomeni che possono essere definiti estasi laiche, meno perfette delle estasi propriamente religiose, seppur con forme analoghe. Se si considerano tali estasi laiche, vi si troveranno le stesse trasformazioni delle credenze. Martial parla della gloria come i mistici parlano di Dio, la certezza di possedere la gloria non tollera alcun dubbio, benché non si fondi su alcuna ragione: «È una vera ispirazione, è più vera di una percezione, è una specie di percezione luminosa, perché questa gloria esplode, si manifesta attraverso raggi luminosi che promanano dalla sua penna dai suoi fogli, da tutta la sua persona». Questa gloria inverosimile è del resto poco logica, è ovunque, in lui e fuori di lui, è un’idea e un essere, come egli stesso è Napoleone e Victor Hugo, rimanendo sempre se stesso. Si potrebbero ripetere utilizzando le parole di Martial la maggior parte degli studi che stiamo conducendo su Madeleine.

Il testo si conclude evocando Madeleine, altra meravigliosa eroina del libro. Dall’esposizione di Janet del suo caso clinico, non traspare molto della curiosissima biografia di Raymond Roussel. Tra gli uomini più ricchi di Francia, si era fatto costruire per viaggiare una specie di roulotte, che doveva essere ben singolare, se anche Mussolini andò a visitarla al suo passaggio a Roma. Durante i suoi viaggi si disinteressava completamente ai luoghi in cui si trovava. Ogni prima delle rappresentazioni delle sue opere teatrali finiva in tafferugli. Per rivivere l’estasi laica, la gloria, l’étoile au front dei suoi diciannove anni, sperimentava gli effetti paradossi dei barbiturici. Cosa che in parte credo possa assolvere Raymond da buona parte della sintomatologia riportata da Janet.

Digressione.

“Per me l’immaginazione è tutto”, scriveva Roussel. L’immaginazione onirica trascendente, contrapposta da Foucault nell’introduzione a Traum und Existenz di Binswanger all’immaginario, repertorio iconico determinato, è quanto più faccia segno all’immaginazione come pratica della scrittura di Roussel.

C’è da chiedersi quale catalogazione clinica toccherebbe a Roussel in tempi di DSM. Nel repertorio dell’immaginario psichiatrico contemporaneo, dai limiti ben più angusti dello sguardo di un grande clinico come Janet, le collocazioni potrebbero essere molteplici, disturbo generalizzato dello sviluppo, spettro autistico, in una delle sue eteree partizioni, AS, HFA, PDD-NOS. Ma anche bipolare, schizoide, il tutto aggravato da un evidente disturbo narcisistico della personalità. E la soluzione: non più barbiturici ma neurolettici e antidepresssivi.

Leggendo Roussel si manifesta in tutta la sua gloria lo splendore della trascendenza immaginativa, tanto più meravigliosa se contrapposta alla povertà dell’immaginario psicodiagnostico che la giudica.

'Laing in Austria'- Theodor Itten [2001]

[Hearty thanks to Dr. Itten, from Sankt Gallen, for his permission to reprint this article. It has first appeared in the spring 2001 issue of Janus Head, devoted to Ronald Laing's legacy. I find this text  really noteworthy not only for its facts and intellectual elaboration, but also for its compassion.
http://www.janushead.org/4-1/
http://www.ittentheodor.ch/
Vivi ringraziamenti al Dr. Itten, di San Gallo, per il permesso di ristampare questo articolo. Esso è originariamente apparso nel numero di primavera 2001 di Janus Head, dedicato alla eredità di Ronald Laing. 'E un testo che trovo assolutamente notevole non solo per i fatti che porta e l'elaborazione intellettuale, ma anche per la sua compassion, compassione.- (Spero di riuscire prossimamente a tradurlo in italiano).]

Laing in Austria 
Theodor Itten


[Despite the great fame and notoriety he enjoyed during the sixties and seventies, the last decade of Laing's life was exceedingly turbulent. In 1980, his close friend and confidante Hugh Crawford died, and in 1981, he stepped down from his role as Chair of the Philadelphia Association. That same year, his marriage to Jutta Werner began to unravel, and his various efforts to start a new charitable foundation, St. Oran's Trust, beginning in 1982, came to naught in 1984. His last book, a memoir entitled Wisdom, Madness & Folly: The Making of a Psychiatrist, published in 1985, sold poorly, and after lengthy deliberations, the General Medical Council of Great Britain withdrew his license to practice medicine in March of 1987. At that point, Laing and his companion, Marguerita Romayn-Kendon, decided that a change of scene would be profitable for them both, and they left for extensive travels abroad. Their son Charles was born on January 6^th of 1988 in San Francisco, and they settled in the Austrian Tyrol in June of that year.
Theodor Itten is a psychotherapist in St. Gallen, Switzerland, who studied with Laing at the Philadelphia during the 1970's, and founded the Villa Therapeutica: R. D. Laing Institute in his memory. In the following piece, Itten remembers various episodes and exchanges from the last three years of Laing's life, before his untimely death on August 23, 1989. D.B.]
This is a short account of Ronnie Laing's Austrian sojourn, based on my visit to his home in Going, Austria, on the Pentecost-Weekend, May 13-15, 1989, and of telephone conversations and exerpts from correspondence spanning the last few years of Ronnie Laing's life. Laing's last trip to Switzerland was to visit our newly built house in Rehetobel, an ancient farmer's village near St. Gallen, at the end of July 1986. He came from Scotland with Marguerita, where they were on holiday with Ronnie's kin. We spent three glorious days together, filled with longish walks and animated conversation, in which we expressed and explored our views of living together, of respectful behavior towards others, and our deepest convictions about life, culminating in a congenial discussion around the kitchen table. Ronnie talked at length about the dizzying itinerary on which Marguerita and he were about to embark: St.Gallen, Zürich, London, Rhinebeck (NY), Athens, Crete, Amsterdam, Antwerp, Brussels, New York City, Philadelphia, Paris, Rome, Bologne, Milan, and finally, Melbourne. Did I know that Jutta and he were finally heading for divorce, and selling their beautiful home on Eaton Road in Belsize Park, London? "Yes," I replied, "I heard it from Fritjof Capra, who visited us, after a lecture he gave at St.Gallen University in June."
Before he left for Zürich, Ronnie showed me his sketch for a new journal entitled Shaman: An Internationally Networked Institute for Shamanic Research and Therapy, asking my opinion. Ronnie was to be responsible for "Therapy," while Brian Bates would take care of "Research." Their stated purpose was: To offer integrated courses in European shamanic tradition, its history, themes, teachings. Implications of the shaman. s vision for emerging paradigms. Approaches to research and therapy inspired by the shamanic way of being. Advanced training courses in therapy and research. Then a "cheerio" and a Shaman's hug, as he and Marguerita entered the bus, which brought them safely to St. Gallen, where they took the train to Zürich.
Around midnight on Friday, the 9^th of October, 1986, while in New York, he wrote: "Congratulations and blessings all round on the birth of Raphael Grisha. A hug to Heidemarie." Raphael is our third son, born a few days after Ronnie left us. His forthcoming birth was another topic of animated conversation some three months before, as Ronnie was an enthusiastic advocate of Natural Childbirth, having made a film and a speaking tour on that subject. Since his brief tenure as a general practitioner in a Scottish village, where he sometimes delivered babies, he was fascinated with embryology, an interest that persisted over the years, and resurfaced in The Facts of Life (1976), and The Voice of Experience (1982). Ronnie continued his midnight musings:





We are . . . the very first generation of human beings who have ever moved over the earth like that (listing all the places he visited recently) . . . I think Kant is supposed to have remarked . travel narrows the mind.On Monday, March 28^th, 1988, he wrote the following from Holne, near Newton Abbot, South Devon, England:Dear Theo,





It is a pleasure to say, "Hello, old friend" to you, in writing alas, now, in the ordinary sacrament of every extraordinary present moment. Without, I hope being ungracious about present graces, I hope it will not be too long before we meet flesh to flesh, face to face, as now we do, in spirit only, as through a glass darkly . . .I'm giving, I think, the keynote address at the European Humanistic Psychology Conference in Barcelona (You know Michela Festa, etc. Maybe you will be there . . . Maybe we can get together sometime in that merry month of May?Love from Marguerita and Charles and meTo you Heidemarie, Dimitrij, Anatol and Raphael,
Ronnie.





P.S. Marguerita and I have settled for settling in Devon.As we know with hindsight, of course, they did not settle in Devon, but went on the road again. At long last, in June of 1988 Ronnie phoned to invite me to spend some time with him in Kitzbühel, Austria. Sadly, I replied, "I'm about to take the train to Cologne, to attend the funeral of my sister Ruth, who tragically died of a thrombosis in the hip (at age 38), two days ago." As I sat there with eyes streaming, Ronnie consoled me tenderly, much as I tried to console him at the death of Hugh Crawford eight years ago, when our positions were reversed.Now that he had relocated in Austria, Ronnie was living only five hour's train ride away, a gentle gift of fate. We agreed to meet as soon as possible. In the meantime, we spoke by phone frequently, exchanging family news and professional gossip whenever possible. We finally met over the Pentecost weekend in May 1989 in Going, a little village ten minutes west of Kitzbühel, where he now lived with Marguerita and Charles. I arrived at the Kitzbühel Railway station just after noon on Saturday. Ronnie was waiting on the platform. He gave me a warm, welcoming hug, and eagerly inquired about our Spring holiday in Cyprus, which is where we were when he had visited Zürich recently to lead a workshop at the University of Zürich Psychiatric Clinic, the famous "Burghölzli."
Recounting some of our adventures, I satisfied his kind curiosity. He then led me to his white Subaru. In days gone by, Ronnie seldom drove anywhere, so this was a novelty for me. Ronnie was a speedy yet competent driver. On the road he informed me about his living arrangements, showed me where they used to live in Kitzbühel, in a comfortable flat owned by a wealthy German woman friend. Presently, he said, "I am no longer drinking alcohol. I've been off the booze for over a year. Driving a car is once again a pleasure not to be despised." Having arrived safely in the driveway of the large Tirolian country house they rented, he showed me the woodshed first of all. Why? Ronnie was responsible for keeping the house warm, by feeding an old iron stove. It certainly kept him busy, and he seemed to take a certain pride in his new domestic responsibility.
We went up, where I was greeted by Marguerita and Charles. The upstairs consisted of a main living area and an open hall leading to a kitchen. On the landing stood a black baby Steinway grand with some Mozart and Gershwin scores on it. There were two bedrooms; one facing west, for sleep and rest; the other, facing north, with a spectacular view of Going's mountain, for Ronnie's writing and meditation practice. He said: "I like these steep mountains more then the ones you have in Rehetobel." As Ronnie was doing some arbitration for a couple coming shortly, I withdrew to the guest room.
Before going to greet the new visitors, Ronnie mentioned how important this mediation work was for him. The couple were good friends of his, and beneath the overt financial wrangling, there were deeper issues of trust, clarity, honesty and friendship at stake. The man involved, as I found out later, was working with Ronnie on a project they termed the "Mind Olympics." Their idea was to bring some of the brightest (mainly western) minds together, in order to share, inspire, and enchant each other. To create a new "morphic field" and fresh "morphic resonance," as our friend Rupert Sheldrake would say (Sheldrake, 1981, 1990). Then they would put their refreshed minds to the problems that plague our planet and all human kind. Sadly, this project never left the planning stage.
To mark this visit, I had brought with me the "Festschrift," for Ronnie's 60th birthday, which he had not yet seen. I had hoped to get it published under the title: R.D.Laing- So What ?: An anthology of thoughts, feelings and reveries on the spirit of Ronald David Laing's psychology.¹ I solicited contributions from Martin Esslin, Susan Griffin, Morris Berman and others. Ronnie read these essays over the weekend, and on Monday morning talked to me about his impressions. He felt most of the contributions were second rate, while some authors, like Andrew Collier, (author of R.D.Laing - The Philosophy and Politics of Psychotherapy, 1977), were putting forward arguments without substantiating them with references to his written words. Our plan for a new book, with the working title: The Politics of Truth, came out of this conversation. In the beginning we simply called it "the 50/50 book," since we envisaged it as an equal collaboration.
While Ronnie was seeing the couple, trying to sort out their differences, Marguerita and I sat in the comfortable living room, with Charles, toddling about and playing, till he was tired and fell asleep. Marguerita spoke of their travel experiences and of recent visits from Natasha and Max, two of Ronnie's children with Jutta. Marguerita said: "I am keeping a diary, noting down Charles's developments as he grows." Ronnie planned to draw on this stock of knowledge, for a book to be called Childhood, Youth and Adolescence. Meanwhile, Marguerita was helping Ronnie finish his new book, The Lies of Love, which she was assiduously typing and retyping, parts of which were revised up to ten times, as the writing was so complex. She did this work in a large sunlit room, downstairs.
While driving to the house, Ronnie promised to show me his new manuscript. I reminded him of this after his tea break just before he returned to the couple downstairs. He went to his room and promptly came back, giving me a large pile of folders, some thicker than others, loosely arranged so that he could shuffle them round. He said: "The finished book is hopefully going to be on your desk within a year's time. All that remains to be done is to polish up the rhetoric." To aid this process he and Marguerita were reading to each other from Shakespeare's Sonnets. Ronnie mentioned his plan to give the final manuscript to Ted Hughes, then Poet Laureate of England, for the latter's comments because, in Ronnie's own words, "I want to be second to none." He considered this book to be his most original work after The Divided Self andKnots.
In this new text, which he began to write in 1982, Ronnie included passages from his unpublished book: Schizophrenia: Sickness or Strategy (1967), where he sought to articulate a "Grammar of Relationships." In the early 1970's, he had decided not to publish this book. Why? Because he was convinced that most of his prospective critics would not grasp his evolving theoretical perspective, and did not wish to be ridiculed by his inferiors.
Admittedly, some of his thoughts on this score were presented in Interpersonal Perception : A Method of Theory and Research (1966), which he co-authored with Phillipson and Lee at the Tavistock Institute, and the chapters entitled "Mapping" and "Rules and Metarules" in the first, Canadian edition of The Politics of the Family, edited by Phyllis Webb (CBC publications, 1969). In The Lies of Love, however, he wished to go beyond the dyadic perspectives featured in Interpersonal Perception to map the lineaments of the triple-bond or triangle of mother, father and child, articulating the overlapping and convergent impact of our concurrent relationships with significant others, both in and after childhood. Laing's argument is impossible to summarize here, but I found a useful example of his "grammar of relationships" to give to the reader some intimation of where he was going. He says:





If we are as, a, b or c , studying the situation/triangle (t) we are in together, there is no possible way to form a picture of it , that we can be certain is "true." From outside t, another picture can be formed, but this diminution essentially remains. I leave the question open as to whether it is possible to be in it and outside it at the same time. My picture of t from within it, is itself part of t, and my (a's) picture of b's picture of a's picture of c's picture of t is part of t and so is a's or b's picture of b's or a's or c's picture of a or b's picture (etc.) . . . part of t.³Since this stuff is too algebraic for most people to follow, much less translate into the language of lived experience, Ronnie regularly resorted to real-life vignettes, selections from the fictional works of de Beauvoir and Sartre, the plays of Aristophanes, classical mythology and the occasional case history to illustrate what goes on between people. I was spellbound.Unfortunately, at the time, there was no way to make a photocopy of the manuscript. But ten years later, in the summer of 1999, I consulted the Laing-Archive at Glasgow University Special Collections Department, Hillhead Street, just a few hundred meters away from Ruskin Place, where Ronnie and his first wife, Ann, lived with their five Children from 1955-56. There I found Version 8, 1988, titled: Lies of Love and Love of Lies.(4) Ronnie's opening inscription was the famous lyric from the song "It's A Sin to Tell a Lie" by the immortal Hoagie Carmichael:





Be sure it's true, when you say "I love you." It's a sin to tell a lie. Millions of hearts have been broken, just because these words were spoken.The manuscript consists of ten chapters. After introducing his theme, in the first chapter, Ronnie poses the question: What is going on? What is happening? The second chapter concerns "Putting the Devil into his Hell." Then a longer, third chapter, which dwells on the proposition that God is a jealous God, and themes like the crisis of credibility, the credibility of crisis, and the Nietzschean notion of "the human species as a secret to itself." Next, in chapter four, he examines the The Witches' Hammer or Malleus Maleficarum, written by two Dominican monks, Jakob Sprenger and Heinrich Insitoris, published in 1487 at the request of Pope Innocent VIII as a handbook for the Inquisition. After pondering the deep, but often unconscious dread men cherish toward women, the root of medieval misogyny, he abruptly shifts focus in chapter five to address "The Transpersonal - Extrasensory Intention."Chapter six deals with power issues. Then chapter seven, "pour d' amour," consists of love poems by Ronnie. The next two Chapters are titled: "Living the Lie," and, "Why Pretend?", followed by the final "Eros, Love, Truth, Deception, Mystification, Sexual Communion." The manuscript is 192 pages long.
After a delicious supper served by Marguerita, the four of us sat quietly by candle light, sipping green tea. Ronnie had offered me wine, but I declined. So Ronnie lit his pipe, and leaning back comfortably in his chair, told me how he had been approached by the Dean of the Department of Medicine at Princeton University. Would Ronnie accept a Professorship in Psychiatry, should they formally invite him to take a Distinguished Chair? He would not need to teach undergraduates. Ronnie asked: what sort of psychiatry did they expect him to teach? In the light of their answer, he had now decided that, if asked, he would undoubtedly decline. That was that. Ronnie then gave us his overview of the psychiatric profession in the USA. By his account, clinicians, health insurance companies, and the author/distributors of the DSM are routinely trying to deceive and double-cross each other. Insincerity is built into the system. When doctors can not fit the pattern of patients complaints or experiences into a pre-existing theoretical framework, they give them "dual diagnoses," sometimes claiming to cure "incurable" disorders and/or pathologizing reasonably intact people in order to be reimbursed for their services. As far as he was concerned, these duplicitous dealings are profoundly immoral. And to complicate matters, though they deceive one another, to be sure, on another level, there is a certain complicity between them all, evidenced in the enormous disparity between the story that the mental health industry puts to the public, and what really goes on behind the scenes. "Remember," Ronnie said, in an apparent reference to his current professional isolation, "Galileo and his rift with the Church and the Science establishment."
After a welcome pause, he talked at length again about The Lies of Love. As it was getting late, Marguerita gave in to her fatigue and went to bed. Ronnie and I sat quietly together. Our silences became longer, interspersed with reflections on the ineluctable intertwining of The Self and Others, using each other's perspectives to reflect on our own "positions of seeing." Within the open field of visioning "the third," Ronnie and I finally decided to call it a night.
Early Sunday morning, I heard Ronnie up at seven o' clock, carrying wood to the house, lighting the fire and washing-up in the kitchen. After a bath, I went upstairs, where an astonishing spectacle greeted me. Ronnie had actually made breakfast for us. "Are you ready for eggs? How would you like your toast?" he asked. He was being a generous host, something I had not experienced before, at least not in this way. Laing was always a remarkably good listener, provided he thought you were sincere. But previously, in his study at Eton Road, Ronnie would welcome guests with the offer of drinks, and nothing more. During his last visit to my home he tried to make some coffee. But he never washed dishes or laid the table or gone in for any kind of housekeeping. This was a rare Pentecost Sunday indeed."Drinking or not drinking alcohol makes no difference to me now. I'm fine without it, and am going to stay that way, till the end of my life," he said. A year or so previously, Marguerita had given Ronnie an ultimatum: either he stopped drinking or she would return (with Charles) for New Zealand. Now that all that was settled, he hoped that royalties from The Lies of Love would be substantial enough to buy his new family a house in Scotland, where he wished to return, eventually. There he would open a practice, see people, and of course write.
After breakfast, sitting comfortably with cups of coffee, Ronnie told me that Bob Mullan, a sociologist, was writing an authorized biography, using the taped interviews Mullan and he had recently made. Moreover, he told me, Brian Bates of Sussex University was compiling an R. D. Laing Reader. Mullan might also edit a selection of Ronnie. s journals, which were in Mullan. s safe-keeping at that time. During the day, Ronnie wandered round the house, sat at the piano and played, or rested in bed, all in a quiet, composed sort of way. After one such rest, he asked: "Would you like to go for a ride, to see our countryside and perhaps visit Kitzbühel?" I replied, "Yes, that would be charming." So off we went.
We parked in Kitzbühel, bought cigarettes in a small sidestreet restaurant, and proceeded to wander about somewhat aimlessly. "No no," we laughed, "we are not dependent on nicotine, but we like it anyhow," looking into each other's eyes, nodding knowingly from the knowledge of temptation and sobriety. "There are at least two points of view for any issue or situation, " said Ronnie reflectively, then added: "I don't feel very well, not very embodied." He was still suffering from dental surgery he had undergone several days before. His teeth were a disaster. And come to think of it, he did look a bit pale in his tweed trousers, elegant Italian shoes, white cardigan and dark blue shirt. Nevertheless, we danced on the pavement while talking, exchanging amused glances, and mimicking the movements of different passersby.
Back at the house, around 5 PM, Ronnie, now in a solemn mood, lay down for a rest, returning shortly to give us a spirited Mozart recital on the piano. Afterwards, we devoured Marguerita's homemade apple strudel, and Ronnie played with Charles, eventually taking him to bed. Marguerita and I cleared the table for tea. Ronnie reappeared. Charles was asleep. I took that opportunity to relate my recent dream about his death.⁵
The dream went as follows:
Ronnie Laing and Francis Huxley come to me one beautiful afternoon. Apparently, it is time for Ronnie to die. We assemble in my house. It is a peaceful time. Ronnie lies down on a specially prepared bed, which I inherited from my paternal grandparents, which is situated in the middle of the room. Francis lies down beside Ronnie, both of them preparing to die. Their heads point West. Francis lies on the northern side, Ronnie on the southern of the bed. Their dying is a slow process that takes all afternoon. There are no visible signs of a struggle or of suffering. In fact, to my surprise, it is an entirely peaceful happening.
Both my friends have passed away and now lie dead in front of me. I take a piece of vinegar soaked veil, put it on Francis' forehead, put some sage leaves on his face, and cover both of the departed with a quilt. I know that Francis has only escorted Ronnie and doesn't himself want to die. Evening comes. Night arrives. Dawn makes her appearance, and with her comes the noble goddess Artemis to help bring Francis back to life. She tenderly removes the sage leaves, and when she lifts up the vinegar-veil, Francis moves for the first time. As he has been with the Dead, we have to do everything very slowly. Gradually, his soul is awakening by the bright morning light. He sits up on the bed's edge, letting his long legs dangle. Supported by Artemis, he learns to walk again, step by step. He is on his way to a fresh identity. Artemis sings and chants, mixing soft, familiar melodies with a strict, and to me, unknown liturgy. Both she and I read, alternatingly, some carefully chosen passages from Francis' own books. We want to remind him of his former self, voicing episodes of his insight and creativity, in order to create parallels to the here and now. Then we suddenly find ourselves in Huxley's flat in London which happens to be next door to my house. Artemis and Francis go out for a meal, while I return home to find Ronnie's dead body still there, now in a coffin. My helpmate is cleaning the room and tidying up our home.
After listening to my dream quietly, and without comment, Ronnie replied with stories of two near-death experiences that occurred since 1986. Oh, by the way, did I know that David Cooper died in 1986? (Who else had died since then, we wondered?) First Ronnie, then Marguerita, told the story of the second near-death experience, when Ronnie almost crossed the threshold of this life. As he recalled, he felt as if he were on teetering on the edge, pondering whether to surrender to death, or to come back into this life again. At the time, both options seemed equally valid. There was gripping music, reminiscent of Bach, emanating from the side of death. On life's side, on the other hand, there was loud screaming: in fact, Marguerita, who was howling for his return. With every ounce of energy she possessed, she begged him to opt for life. Eventually, as she recalled, she reached him, and felt the tide turning, bringing Ronnie back. Yet, she observed wryly, "I' ve never seen Ronnie angrier than the first two weeks after he came back." Ronnie laughed, as did we all. What a huge release of tension! Now other vivid stories and ideas were exchanged, interweaving with one another. Did I know Moody's work on near death phenomena? Ronnie was booked at a conference entitled "Apocalyptic Courage" on August 3-8, 1989, in Denver, Colorado, where Raymond Moody, author of Life After Life was giving a paper (Moody, 1988). Ronnie's talk was entitled: "The Eye of the Needle is Here and Now," but he was not certain if he was up to it. Despite the hectic itinerary of the preceding year, he said he did not relish the prospect of long distance travel anymore. Yet, he did promise Diethart Jaehning, Chairman of the Conference, that he would come.
It was well into the morning hours when Ronnie and Marguerita crept to bed, while I resumed reading The Lies of Love, finishing it, finally, with burning eyes and a deep, irrepressible yawn, at about 3 AM. Content, and full of thoughts, I went to sleep.
But not for long. Ronnie roused me early, at the pre-arranged time, as we wanted to talk about our book project before I took the train home. After a fine breakfast (prepared by Ronnie) and a brief time out for some photographs, we settled down on the sofa. We began the first draft of an outline for our joint effort, promising to send each other our subsequent revisions in the weeks ahead. Ronnie then drove me to the train station. On the platform, he gave me the customary "shaman's hug," and we said a loud "cheers" to "50/50," as we called our project. We promised to stay in touch, and to visit each other soon. I waved from, and he to, the slowly rolling train. The last I saw Ronnie in the flesh he was walking toward the car, waving at me with both arms, disappearing abruptly as the train gathered speed. I received the following letter from Marguerita on June 14, 1989:
Dear Theo,





Thank you for sending the photos - they are very nice - and for your lovely letters. I am writing to let you know we are to be here longer than originally thought - until December at least and your company was so delightful that I would like to invite you whenever you feel like dropping in for a weekend or whatever. When I told Ronnie that I was writing to you he mentioned to remind you about the idea of editing a book 50/50 . . . and also to send you his very best wishes. All the very best for now to you and to your family, with love, Marguerita.At the end of June, I sent Ronnie my first revision of our proposal, and he replied with a longish letter on August 1st:Dear Theo,





I woke up with rather a start today, that a month has passed since your letter and notes. They are very welcome and take us far along the road we want to go . . .As for the book:1. The Politics of Truth has a good ring to it. I think we can live with that until/if something else occurs to us that supersedes it along the way . . .4. in general, I like your thoughts for the book. I would want contributors to commit themselves to an actual examination of the work of R.D.L.-specifically, not vague programmatic manifestos.
e.g. (a) The shift of perspective - all through from the Kraepelin interview in The Divided Self to the carefully worded relevant part of Intro. to Sanity, Madness & the Family to the point by point contrasting vignettes in The Facts of Life to the complete de-anchoring from "clinical" co-ordinates in the vignettes in The Voice of Experience.
(b) The focus on person-person conjuction-disjunction as the unacknowledged cleavage/ Spaltung in the I-Thou non-actualized ontologically possible human connection; again present from beginning of my oeuvre, to now . . .
(c) The actual data in the work. The presentation of actual metanoiac transformations and modulations of experience which - sometimes, not always as indicated in The Politics of Experience, seems to have a healing value. This metaphor of a "journey" has been persistently treated with scorn and contempt.
(d) The theoretical and practical study of social context . Reason and Violence via Sartre, Oxford Companion of Mind article, Phoenix Arizona articles.
(e) The "look," the way of seeing, as constitutions of what is seen etc., who sees whom how.(f) Interpersonal Perception.(g) Phenomenology anchored, manifested in actual situations.(h) Praxis and process. I went into this in detail in my Burghölzli talk this year - they all seemed completely bemused, but, this time, very respectful etc.
That is, I think we should get participants. very explicit, and in no way reluctant agreement to address specific issues (theoretical and practical) thematized in the oeuvre of R.D.Laing.
We should go over these themata together, name them, and make sure they "cover" most of the territory. Both Bob Mullan (biographer) and Brian Bates could be useful here. We might contrive to get us all in the same place at the same time . . .Publication 1992 . . .So - don. t take so long to answer as I have!





Love, from Marguerita, Charles, and me, to you, and Heidemarie, Dimitrij, Anatol, and Raphael.Ronnie⁶I answered this detailed outline, with a proposed date to meet for face discussions. But late at night, on the 23rd of August 1989, I came home from choir practice, having just rehearsed "The Song of the Sun," by St. Francis of Assisi. There were candles lit all around our house. Heidemarie placed them there, after Francis Huxley had called in my absence, saying: "Terrible news, Ronnie is dead." After conversations with Francis Huxley, Jutta Laing and Adrian Laing, we retired with streaming eyes and aching hearts.
The following day, the St. Galler Tagblatt asked me for an obituary, which I provided in the form of a telephone interview with the news editor, Eleonore Baumberger. She created the following headline on page two: "It Does Not Disturb Me, To Be a Human Being."7 There, I noted that, contrary to popular belief, Ronnie Laing was no utopian, and did not have a ready made formula for a better society. The principal thing for him was love, and to live together, acknowledging and accepting our inner demons, and those of others. What disturbed him was that we live in a society which makes living in this mode of love and acceptance very difficult. Laing knew how psychiatrists frequently fear a stark, authentic encounter with the confusion and inner turmoil of their patients. A genuine therapy always touches one's own soul.Ronnie Laing once dreamt of a football match where, as he put it, "I am both sides." It only ends when "the game turns into a dance."8
Endnotes
1. Festschrift for R.D.Laing's 60^th Birthday, 7.10. 1987
R.D.Laing: So What ?
    1. Poet - Psychiatrist, Psychiatrist - Poet    Martin Esslin
    2. I am remembering an earlier self . . .    Susan Griffin
    3. Experiencing R.D.Laing    Fritjof Capra
    4. Variation on my Theme    R. D. Laing
    5. I had a dream of Therapy    Theodor Itten
    6. Across an Abyss    Douglas Kirsner
    7. Appearance and Liberation     Andrew Collier
    8. Journeys     Ross V. Speck
    9. Nature is not a Paradigm     Morris Berman
    10. On the production of Subjectivity     Felix Guattari
    11. Daseinsanalytic Dream Interpretation     Gion Condrau
    12. In Search of True Psychiatry     David Goldblatt
    13. Conversation with Ronald Laing     Heidemarie Krolak
Marguerita Romayn-Kendon, Theodor Itten
2 Francis Huxley, Where the Map is the Territory, in: Theoria to Theory, 1974, Vol.8, pp.289-301.
3 SCDGU-R.D.Laing Collection, Call No. K 35 - Patmos Meditations 1968, Book 2, No.1
4 Special Collections Department - Glasgow University Library (SCDGU), R.D.Laing Collection, Call No. A 326 - Lies of Love and Love of Lies, Version 8/1988
5 Theodor Itten - Traumtod : Todesträume; in : Neues vom Tod, Hrsg. Adolf Holl, Ueberreuter-Sachbuch, Wien 1990, pp.127-148.
6 Letters - R.D.Laing to Theodor Itten, in: R. D. Laing: Creative Destroyer, Ed. Bob Mullan, Cassell - London, 1997, pp.172-177.
7 "Es stört mich nicht ein Mensch zu sein" - Zum Tode von R.D.Laing. Interview mit einem Freund & Berufskollegen, Theodor Itten, von R.D.Laing. St.Galler Tagblatt, 25.8. 1989, p. 2
Interview with Eleanore Baumberger. - Reprint in:PMS-Aktuell 3/1989, p.41. CH-Weinfelden.
8 SCDGU-R.D.Laing Collection, Call No.K23, Dreams - Sept. '63-July '65.
I wish to thank Noel Cobb for his gentle and clear editorial help, as always remembering: Beatitudo ultima finis vitae humanae est. T.I.
[Editor's Note: A year after Laing's death, Theodor Itten learned of my forthcoming book, which was eventually titled The Wing of Madness: The Life and Work of R.D. Laing. He tried to get my help in engaging a publisher to place Laing's Festschrift, and despite my enthusiasm, I was unable to do so. Fortunately, much of the material in the Festschrift appeared later in R.D. Laing: Creative Destroyer, edited by Bob Mullan. Theodor Itten and Noel Cobb are currently trying to resurrect The Politics of Truth. D.B.]
References
Burston, D. (1996). The Wing of Madness: The Life and Work of R.D.Laing. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Collier, A. (1977). R.D. Laing: The Philosophy and Politics of Psychotherapy. New York: Pantheon.
Laing, R.D. (1960). The Divided Self. London, Tavistock Publications.
Laing. R.D. & Esterson, A. (1964). Sanity, Madness & The Family. London: Tavistock Publications.
Laing, R.D., Phillipson, H. & Lee. R. (1966). Interpersonal Perception: A Theory and Method Research. London: Tavistock Publications.
Laing, R. D. (1967). The Politics of Experience and the Bird of Paradise. New York: Pantheon.
Laing, R.D. (1969). The Politics of Experience. Toronto: CBC Publications.
Laing, R.D. (1976). The Facts of Life. New York: Pantheon.
Laing, R. D. (1982). The Voice of Experience. New York: Pantheon.
Laing, R.D. (1985). Wisdom, Madness and Folly: The Making of A Psychiatrist. New York: McGraw Hill.
Laing, R.D. (1987). Laing's Understanding of Interpersonal Experience. In Richard Gregory (ed.), The Oxford Companion to the Mind. New York: Oxford University Press.
Moody, I. (1988). Life after Life. New York: Bantham.
Mullan, B. (1995). Mad to Be Normal: Conversations with R.D.Laing. London: Free Association Books.
Mullan, B. (1997). R. D. Laing: Creative Destroyer. London: Cassell.
Sheldrake, R. (1981). A New Science of Life. London: Blond and Briggs.
Sheldrake, R. (1990). The Rebirth of Nature. London: Century.


see 'Sartre, la psicanalisi esistenziale e l'antipsichiatria', http://gconse.blogspot.com/2011/03/giacomo-conserva-sartre-la-psicanalisi.html