Dr. Lewis Sachs' Housefly Koan
In the late `90’s, Dr. Lew and I played concept tag each week unlocking my relationship mysteries. Doc was a dazzling brilliant psychologist, who spouted ironic non-sequiturs and manufactured stories about imaginary patients with similar woes. His San Francisco office was above a popular delicatessen. Pastrami and corned beef aromas filled his office and their effect on me was positively Pavlovian.
His San Francisco office was above a popular delicatessen. Pastrami and corned beef aromas filled his office and their effect on me was positively Pavlovian. I was hungry in body and mind.
A most memorable session was interrupted when a fly zoomed in through an open window.
“Martin? Is that your fly?”
“No Doc, looks like one of yours. Mine are the size of golfballs and hang in Oakland.” The fly buzzed my head.
“That’s strange, this one seems to be especially interested in you.” The fly circled Sachs’ head
“He’s mistaken. In a shrink’s office, full of pungent lunchmeat smells, he’s probably looking for the head cheese. That'd be you.”
Sachs addressed the fly, “You appear to be lost. Go west!” and pointed to the window.
As if by wizardry, the fly zoomed out and skyward. Doc and I exchanged exaggerated shrugs.
A moment6 later, the fly zoomed back in the window and buzzed me again.
Lew grinned, “Precisely what I expected!”
I was feeling comical. “Not to disparage your skills, Doc, but I’m beginning to draw flies - and this one’s taking a second look.”
“No-no-no! that’s the beauty of the fly mind!" He said, "The first time it came in the room, it saw you, flew around you, saw me, buzzed around me then, probably responding to my Horace Greeley suggestion, went on his way.”
I nodded, realizing a dose of Sachs brilliance was forthcoming and it might be the most relevant koan my wise-cracking, Zen therapist had given me yet.
“When he flew back in, he did another dizzy flight but he didn’t think, “Oh, there’s the big guy on the couch and there’s the distinguished-looking guy in the swivel chair and there’s the window I flew out before. There was no second time. For the fly, it was another first time. Flies don’t have second times.”
I acted the fool, “Time travel?”
“No, much better! The fly has a huge advantage in life. He consumes reality in gulps – sights, sounds, smells – burns them in lightning-flash perceptions and then, leaves no memories; just an experience trail of fine, fully-incinerated ash. He attaches no significance to the second flight through the room. He doesn’t carry the associations of the initial perception on to the next perception. So he flies free, unencumbered by the baggage of pre-suppositions and expectations. Everything he encounters, is a `first time' discovery. It all goes in, it all goes out... without any storage. The fly lives an impeccable existence. In fact, I'm quite sure I’ve never had a fly as a client.”
I laughed at the simplicity of the concept and Sachs related that Jung, while explaining synchronicity to a client noted, “If I mentioned a June bug and a moment later one flew up to my office window, that would be synchronicity.” Jung gestured toward the window just as a June bug landed on the its mullion.
The Fly Lesson was a breakthrough and I moved forward in my life, modeling my behaviors on the reality-consuming insect. It made me fearless; consuming reality, endeavoring to leave a fine ash behind me and jettisoning emotional baggage – the other thing a fly doesn’t have.
xxx
(c) 2007 Martin Higgins
all rights reserved
Editor's Note: Martin is currently writing the screenplay for “King of Kings II” which continues the original story as an enraged Jesus pulls himself down from the cross to mete out some payback.
His San Francisco office was above a popular delicatessen. Pastrami and corned beef aromas filled his office and their effect on me was positively Pavlovian. I was hungry in body and mind.
A most memorable session was interrupted when a fly zoomed in through an open window.
“Martin? Is that your fly?”
“No Doc, looks like one of yours. Mine are the size of golfballs and hang in Oakland.” The fly buzzed my head.
“That’s strange, this one seems to be especially interested in you.” The fly circled Sachs’ head
“He’s mistaken. In a shrink’s office, full of pungent lunchmeat smells, he’s probably looking for the head cheese. That'd be you.”
Sachs addressed the fly, “You appear to be lost. Go west!” and pointed to the window.
As if by wizardry, the fly zoomed out and skyward. Doc and I exchanged exaggerated shrugs.
A moment6 later, the fly zoomed back in the window and buzzed me again.
Lew grinned, “Precisely what I expected!”
I was feeling comical. “Not to disparage your skills, Doc, but I’m beginning to draw flies - and this one’s taking a second look.”
“No-no-no! that’s the beauty of the fly mind!" He said, "The first time it came in the room, it saw you, flew around you, saw me, buzzed around me then, probably responding to my Horace Greeley suggestion, went on his way.”
I nodded, realizing a dose of Sachs brilliance was forthcoming and it might be the most relevant koan my wise-cracking, Zen therapist had given me yet.
“When he flew back in, he did another dizzy flight but he didn’t think, “Oh, there’s the big guy on the couch and there’s the distinguished-looking guy in the swivel chair and there’s the window I flew out before. There was no second time. For the fly, it was another first time. Flies don’t have second times.”
I acted the fool, “Time travel?”
“No, much better! The fly has a huge advantage in life. He consumes reality in gulps – sights, sounds, smells – burns them in lightning-flash perceptions and then, leaves no memories; just an experience trail of fine, fully-incinerated ash. He attaches no significance to the second flight through the room. He doesn’t carry the associations of the initial perception on to the next perception. So he flies free, unencumbered by the baggage of pre-suppositions and expectations. Everything he encounters, is a `first time' discovery. It all goes in, it all goes out... without any storage. The fly lives an impeccable existence. In fact, I'm quite sure I’ve never had a fly as a client.”
I laughed at the simplicity of the concept and Sachs related that Jung, while explaining synchronicity to a client noted, “If I mentioned a June bug and a moment later one flew up to my office window, that would be synchronicity.” Jung gestured toward the window just as a June bug landed on the its mullion.
The Fly Lesson was a breakthrough and I moved forward in my life, modeling my behaviors on the reality-consuming insect. It made me fearless; consuming reality, endeavoring to leave a fine ash behind me and jettisoning emotional baggage – the other thing a fly doesn’t have.
xxx
(c) 2007 Martin Higgins
all rights reserved
Editor's Note: Martin is currently writing the screenplay for “King of Kings II” which continues the original story as an enraged Jesus pulls himself down from the cross to mete out some payback.