A Quote by Irvin D. Yalom

The ultimate goal of therapy... it's too hard a question. The words come to me like tranquility, like fulfillment, like realizing your potential. — © Irvin D. Yalom
The ultimate goal of therapy... it's too hard a question. The words come to me like tranquility, like fulfillment, like realizing your potential.
There is no 'ultimate goal of therapy.' Thinking there is some ultimate or universal goal of therapy is one of the most fundamental errors of our field. To me, that concept is rather arrogant, as if therapists were some kind of spiritual experts who knew what human beings are supposed to be like.
Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That's above and beyond everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don't come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people's words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet.
It's been like therapy to be able to play music and not embarrass my children too much. They've come to a bunch of the shows. It's kind of cool. I'm glad they like it.
I would like you to drop the ego, to dissolve, to disappear, because only then is there fulfillment. The ego knows only emptiness; it is always unfulfilled. By the very nature, by its very intrinsic nature, it cannot attain to fulfillment. When you are not, fulfillment is. Call it God, or give it a name Patanjali would like - samadhi - the attainment of the ultimate, but it comes when you disappear.
I know that sentence is long and has too many joining words in it but sometimes, when I'm angry, words burst out of me like a shout, or, if I'm sad, they spill out of me like tears, and if I'm happy my words are like a song. If that happens it's one of my rules not to change them because they're coming out of my heart and not my head, and that's the way they're meant to be.
That's what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it's over and there's one more person in the world who thinks I'm a complete and total waste of space.
Writing that sort of [songs like "Let is Roll"]made me try to almost sort of ingrain it in my own head every time I sing it live as well. It's like therapy. It's like "Move on, Pip! Come on. You can do this! You can do this."
When I was young I was on punishment a lot and I used to watch a lot of TV, and I asked myself a question: 'How come people like Mike? How come they like Magic? How come they like Bird? How come they don't like the big guys?' So I just throw a little bit of what they were doing. You smile, you act crazy and silly. And I think people like me because I'm different. I've always been a class clown type of guy. It comes natural.
What interests me is the following paradox: of how, precisely in our liberal societies, where no one can even imagine a transcendental cause for which to die, we are allowed to adopt a hedonistic, utilitarian, or even more spiritually egotistical stance - like, the goal of my life is the realization of all my potential, fulfillment of my innermost desires, whatever you want.
I do come across people who don't like me, don't like my comedy, don't think it's funny, it's too cutesy, or whatever they hate. And it's like, 'Okay. That's your opinion. Somebody liked it, so that's good.' Hopefully it balances out.
I do come across people who don't like me, don't like my comedy, don't think it's funny, it's too cutesy, or whatever they hate. And it's like, "Okay. That's your opinion. Somebody liked it, so that's good." Hopefully it balances out.
My music is written with one goal in mind: to improvise. It's like explaining a great story in words, but without words, much faster than you could with words. It's like a direct line of instantaneous communication where you don't have to wait for the end.
I like to dabble in different things, but music is my first love. It connects to me in a way my side projects don't because it's so personal. I write the words. Music is like my diary. It's my therapy.
Music feels like therapy, actually. A lot of people come out of a therapy session and feel like a weight has been lifted - I got it out, I cried, I feel good. I think for me this is just my way of doing that. It's the only avenue I have that fulfills that, that makes me feel good about myself. And I don't mean that in regards to the rewards, or like getting some good review. That's not what it's about. It's more about trying to please myself. It's really sick and weird.
I really feel like a walking testimony of like if you set your mind to things, how things can come true for you. I feel like I'm like, like the law of attraction. I feel like I'm living that life wholeheartedly. Everything that I've looked for out of life, it's come to be so far... I'm working hard, I'm not getting lucky, I'm earning things... I feel like a living testament to how you can just put your mind to anything and make it happen.
I would love to do musicals, sitcoms and even television talk shows. I think I have the potential. But most importantly, my ultimate goal as an artist is to create a new music genre like Elvis Presley.
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