Flourishing from Failure: The Road to Graduate School

     As many of you know I have spent the last few years relentlessly applying to graduate programs, both MA and PhD.  I have recently been accepted to the University of West Georgia and the University of Dallas for their psychology MA programs.  However, this road has not always been so cleanly apparent and certainly has contained may toils and tribulations.  I would like to dedicate this blog post (an possibly others) to the process that has lead up to this moment.
     I first made the decision to apply to graduate school during my junior year at Mac Murray College (2008-2009).  My reason for this was that I did not feel that after completing my Bachelor's Degree that I would have reached my academic zenith and could still push myself further and be competitive and productive at a graduate level.  At the time my interest in psychology had been put on the back burner.  One of my two majors was Criminal Justice.  This was taken on for its practical job application.  That is, there is always a need for more police officers, for example.  This was in contrast to my "idealist" interest in philosophy.  However, graduate school presented a realistic option to further my future and still be active in a philosophical setting.  The most obvious career choice for a philosophy graduate student would be to teach.  And so this became my focus.  I wanted to go to graduate school for a PhD in philosophy and ultimately find a career teaching at the college level.
     So it began.  I applied for my first round of graduate programs seeking a PhD in philosophy, hoping to start my graduate studies in the fall of 2010.  My application process began during the 2009-2010 school year.  I researched what I thought were the best philosophy programs in the country that offered a PhD. in philosophy and also programs that I might be interested in.  I went through the grind of preparing for the nightmare known as the Graduate Record Exam (GRE - kind of like and ACT/SAT for graduate school) and scored what (on that scoring model) was slightly above average.  I contacted a few professors from various programs to the likes of which I had applied, and even shelled out the sometimes hefty application fees.  I had applied to approximately 4 PhD. programs and was accepted to none of them.  My heart was broken.  I could not fathom why I had been denied admission.  A few of the PhD. programs I had applied to offered a waived application fee to their Master's program.  However, there were (I believe) two of these such programs, both of which were of no avail even after researching as far as housing options in the area.
     After being denied application to graduate school I still continued my education at Mac Murray.  I proceeded to graduate in May of 2010 with a Bachelor of Science degree double majoring in A) Philosophy/Religion and B) Criminal Justice; and minoring in Psychology.  Where did this land me?  Unemployed.  Wonderfull.  I had no job and was >20,000 dollars in debt.  My parents who kindly supplied support while in school said; "now that you're graduated, here is the debt we acquired while you were in school."  This led to me a troublesome yet enlightening time.  After graduating college is when I began to train Mixed Martial Arts, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Muay Thai Kick Boxing, and Boxing at Peoria Athletic Club.  There is something majestic about combat sports that seem to draw the down and out.  Training became something I looked forward to each and every day because, in the simplest terms, it was all I had to do to pass the time.  I managed to make ends meet by collecting a whopping $67 per week from unemployment and by donating plasma twice per week to the tune of about $50 per week.
     I spent nearly 12 months unemployed, and managed to save enough money for a second round of graduate school applications.  The time had come to make the decision to apply to schools that I "thought I could get into" rather than those that I, then, "dreamed of" attending.  However, much to my dismay this landed me in the exact same spot.  Rejected, from all of them.  This led me to somewhat of a crisis.  I was unemployed, had bills to pay, loans I owed, crushed plans for further education, and had absolutely no idea where my future would lead.  However, as mentioned earlier I was still a competitive fighter.  Fighters are trained to be great, but the fighting spirit is something that no one can take away, or give you.  You have to earn it all on your own.  February 2011 marked my amateur Mixed Martial Arts debut in which I won via submission in the first round.  Perhaps there was a bit of light at the end of the tunnel or at least a glimpse of success amid a learned helplessness.
     During the unemployed era of my life there was a slight upside to this stage.  I have always enjoyed reading but never "had the time" to just sit around with a book.  When you are unemployed and make your bread from plasma donations (a notoriously long process) you have all the time in the world to read as many books as you desire that you never thought you had time for.  This lead me to start to rekindle my interest in psychology.  I moved from reading my staple of heavy, high-end, philosophy texts, to a few books on body language, to mentalism, to psychiatry.  I do not recall what led me to the choice, but Irvin Yalom's book "Staring at the Sun" has to be the catalyst of my career that completely captivated and revitalized my vision.  This topic will be elaborated later.  It was during my junior year at Mac Murray college while reading Kant's critiques that I had a bit of a revelation.  Kant's works are infamously difficult to read, however, if you can wade through the complicated syntax it makes a lot of sense to apply to every day life.  The irony is that your average, everyday Joe would just assume have teeth pulled thank attempt to digest "The Critique of Pure Reason."  This gave birth to the career goal of wanting to teach philosophy as a means of bringing philosophy out of the ivory tower of academia and back into the hands of the layman, where it began in the days of Aristotle and Plato.  Now, back to the present time in my story...
     In April of 2011 I began working as a Security Officer at OSF St. Francis Medical Center.  Earlier I mentioned "Staring at the Sun" by Irving D. Yalom.  Yalom is a forerunner in the field of existential psychotherapy.  This philosophical approach to humanistic psychology and therapy was pioneered by the likes of Rollo May and Carl Rogers.  What was so awakening about Yalom's book was that it revealed to me a more apt facet for my goal of redistributing philosophy's wisdom to the masses, and that facet was through psychotherapy.  Having a renewed interest in Psychology, I immediately made contact and friends with the mental health personnel at St. Francis.  Some of these persons provided me great insight into career options as a therapist as well as be the writers of future letters of recommendation.  After some careful thought I decided that my career of choice would shift from being a teacher to being a psychiatrist.  This of course entails medical school, but would avoid the "red tape" of medications involved in the web of mental health professionals.  As my degree from Mac Murray had steered me away from physical science I enrolled at a community college, Illinois Central, to embark on the pre-requisite courses I would need to attend medical school.  I knew going in that this course of action would be anything but sunshine and rainbows, but I had never imagined the hell-bent toll that would ensue.
      My life in the Fall of 2011 consisted of working full time at St. Francis as well as a part-time job teaching boxing and jiu jitsu lessons, and taking a full course load of pre-medical college classes.  To make a long story short, I spent about ten weeks getting about three hours of sleep, seven days per week.  Needless to say I burnt out.  I was like a dying sun.  When a star, such as the Milky Way's sun, dies, it first expands to great lengths and consumes everything in its bath only to explode into vast nothingness.  With the courses paid for and the semester two thirds finished I made the difficult decision to withdraw from my classes and abandon the dream of doctoring.  The reasons was quite simple at its roots.  I wanted the focus of my career and studies to be on therapy not medicine.  The roles are reversed as a psychiatrist is a doctor first and a therapist second.  While I was interested in medicine, the time and money investment required of a medical student far outweighed my interest.  Everyone knows that the >100,000 dollar tab and 10 years of study in medical school is anything but a weekend-warrior project.
     It became clear to me that my education at Mac Murray had not misled me.  There was distinct purpose to me having been drawn to liberal arts and humanities rather than physical science.  A began to compile a third round of graduate school application, this time focusing on psychology departments.  This was a bit of a stretch considering that I only had a minor in psychology.  However, the equalizer was that I was seeking out programs that focused on humanistic, phenomenological, and transpersonal aspects of psychology in order to make the best use of my philosophy degree.  The difference this time around was that rather than apply to schools that were "ranked" highly, I diligently searched for and researched programs and and faculty members who shared my vision and ambition.  Another major change was the ways in which I contacted faculty members of the universities I planned on applying to.  Previously, I reached out to them with a token inquiry about the school and program and in return received a token, tongue-and-cheek response.  During this round of applications I researched each faculty member I planned on contacting.  I researched projects they had done, their research interests, their biographies, where they had previously taught, where they had received their education, literally Googled everything I could find out about them.  This lead to a much more involved email exchange, some of which even resulted in faculty members granting me a telephone conference in which I interviewed them about the schools, their research interests, and research interests of my own.  Various parts of those interviews were also used in the research project I conducted titled "Benevolence of a Stranger:  What Albert Camus' 'The Stranger' Teaches Us About Ourselves" which was submitted as a writing sample along with my graduate applications.
     Alas, my future was taking shape.  Rather than taking a shot in the dark at graduate school everything felt right about this round of applications.  The proverbial "grind" had become a way of life for me and rejection from universities was almost expected.  I was once caught in the cyclic redundancy of scraping together meager funds for applications, anxiously awaiting a response, and ultimately being rejected, only to rinse and repeat for three years.  Things were different for this third set of applications.  As I mentioned, the fit was "right" and that is the best way I can describe it.  There was nothing that did not seem to be perfect between the relationship I had with the universities I was applying to.  I did take a bit of a gamble by flying into Atlanta to interview with two faculty members of the University of West Georgia.  I thought the interview went fairly well and while I really conversed well with one of the faculty members, I was unsure of my impression on the other.  The following morning I awoke with the intention of sending "thank you" emails to my interviewers when I noticed I had a new message from their secretary.  Still half asleep I did not bother to read the one line of text, but clicked to open the first of six attachments to the email.  It was a letter of acceptance to the university!  I was truly beside myself.  So much so that I could not yet immediately tell the world via Facebook because my hands were shaking too much to type.  Then next day I also received a letter in the mail from the University of Dallas, nervously opened it, and found that I was also granted admission to that institution!
     While my attendance commitment remains undecided I now have a future planned, a place to go, a career to flourish in, valuable lessons learned, and what many people only dream of; a completely fresh start and an opportunity to make your dreams a reality and live life exactly as you want it to be.  I still wear a scar on my left arm from countless plasma donations to remind me of more difficulty and trying times.  But those struggles were not without purpose.  I choose to believe that I needed that rough patch to awaken me; to decide what exactly I wanted of myself, my education, and my career.  This marks the end of this blog.  No more posts will ever be contributed here.  The description portrays the function of this blog which is to convey my post-undergraduate and pre-graduate philosophical and psychological musings.  The time has come to move on.  Frequent readers need not dismay as a new blog will be created to follow my journey through graduate school.  This blog will remain in tact for archive purposes.

Sincerely signed,
Your resident neo-philosopher,

Austin P. Haedicke

Benevolence of a Stranger (Introduction and Background)

     I recently submitted my graduate applications to Saybrook University, Seattle University, the University of the Rockies, University of Dallas, and the University of West Georgia for their respective psychology programs.  As part of the application process I was required to submit an writing sample.  Throughout my previous studies at Mac Murray College I have written several essays, greater than twenty pages in length, that would have sufficed.  However, I wanted to write something that was more relevant to my current interests and updated to my current line of thinking.  The last essay I wrote at Mac Murray College was in the Spring of 2010; nearly two years ago.  While those essays are the bedrock of my current research and interests they are not particularly representative of the way I look at and deal with things now and certainly outdated as far as my primary research interests are concerned.
     Albert Camus has been largely influential on and the subject of much of my writing as a philosophy student.  The trend continues as I chose, for my graduate writing sample, to focus on the Camus' novel The Stranger.  Throughout this new essay I explored the practical implications of The Stranger and how the themes found in the novel are representative of characteristics we find in today's world and people, particularly as they pertain to psychology and psychotherapy.
     Another large part of the essay consists of several interview I conducted with selected faculty members from the institutions which I have applied to.  The interviewees included Dr. Alexandra Adame (Seattle University), Dr. Robert Flax (Saybrook University), Dr. Gilbert Garza (University of Dallas), and Dr. Louis Hoffman (Saybrook University).  The first part of the interviews inquired about each faculty member's background in philosophy and psychology.  The second part of the interview, which concerns itself here and with my essay, inquired about the applications of philosophy to psychology and psychotherapy.  The third part of the interview was a general question-answer session about the faculty members' respective institutions and programs of study.  The second part of the interviews are included within the essay I submitted with my applications.
     The title of my new essay is Benevolence of a Stranger.  The title was chosen so because of the irony I find in the premiss of Camus' work.  That is, the main character of the novel, Meursault, is intentionally depicted as a social outcast and a "stranger" to the world he lives in and the people he interacts with.  The irony I find is that essentially all of the characters and themes represented in the The Stranger are symbolic of characteristics, mannerism, social-political relationships, and oppressions that we find very prevalent in our own society.  The Stranger was published over fifty years ago in France and, through no means of coincidence, bears great relevance to its world wide readers in the year 2012.
     The essay itself went through several revisions, the final edition being Version 3.5.  It was reviewed by two colleagues of mine, neither of whom have primary academic interests in psychology.  This was paramount to my style of writing as my intention is to make everything I write relevant, understandable, useful, and inspiring to anyone who reads it, particularly those without higher education or who have never formally studied psychology or philosophy.  An abstract of the essay can be read below in italic font and the full, published, text can be found in the following post by clicking HERE.

There is an intrinsic need for the application of philosophy to the study of psychology and the practice of psychotherapy.  Specifically, existentialism is of particular pertinence to this topic.  Often associated with the literary and philosophical existential movements, Albert Camus has written many novels that resemble a therapeutic function.  The first part of this essay is dedicated to the relevance of interviews conducted with various university psychology professors on the topic of philosophy and existentialism in psychotherapy.  The second part of this essay is an analysis of The Stranger by Albert Camus discussing its implications and how they apply to psychotherapy.  The third part of this essay is a similar analysis of the introduction of the cited edition of The Stranger, the introduction being written by Peter Dunwoodie.

Benevolence of a Stranger (Full Text)

Benevolence of a Stranger

Reflections on what Camus’ The Stranger Teaches Us About Ourselves

By:  Austin P. Haedicke

Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog

Casper Friedrich

Abstract

There is an intrinsic need for the application of philosophy to the study of psychology and the practice of psychotherapy.  Specifically, existentialism is of particular pertinence to this topic.  Often associated with the literary and philosophical existential movements, Albert Camus has written many novels that resemble a therapeutic function.  The first part of this essay is dedicated to the relevance of interviews conducted with various university psychology professors on the topic of philosophy and existentialism in psychotherapy.  The second part of this essay is an analysis of The Stranger by Albert Camus discussing its implications and how they apply to psychotherapy.  The third part of this essay is a similar analysis of the introduction of the cited edition of The Stranger, the introduction being written by Peter Dunwoodie.

Forward:  Review of the introduction by Peter Dunwoodie

Peter Dunwoodie’s introduction to this edition of The Stranger has several noteworthy comments that are pertinent to the topic at hand.  Reading The Stranger is therapeutic in itself.  Understanding the relevance of such an intricate work to everyday aspects of our lives is surreal.  Peter Dunwoodie’s introduction is also therapeutic in its own right.  Much of what Dunwoodie has to say about Camus, Meursault, and The Stranger is as important as the details contained within The Stranger itself.

Dunwoodie confers that Camus maintained his essay, The Myth of Sisyphus, deals with the absurd and is, in fact, meant to be anti-existentialist (Camus, XIII).  Dunwoodie also cites Camus’ comment that “Meursault is a stranger to the society in which he lives, wandering on the fringe, on the outskirts of life, solitary and sensual” (Camus, XV).  However, it is the intention of this essay to assert that Meursault is, in fact, not a stranger; but a more accurate and honest depiction of ourselves than we could ever illustrate autobiographically.  

Other comments of Camus’ that Dunwoodie notes include the following.  “As Camus put it, ‘Meursault is condemned because he does not play the game... His actions and statements are the direct consequences of a philosophical stance which rejects widespread social and moral norms’” (Camus, XVI - XVII).  “Camus’ American preface asserted, Meursault is ‘in love with a sun which leaves no shadows.  Far from lacking all sensibility, he is driven by a tenacious and therefore profound passion, the passion for an absolute and for truth’” (Camus, XVIII).

Dunwoodie also makes several comments on The Stranger itself that find their place in this essay.  “There is also a bleaker counterpart which depicts the vicissitudes of occupied France, the drudgery and dullness of everyday life for the majority in the daily struggle to earn a wage, obtain food and fuel...” (Camus, XI).  Do we not, in our current age, find that the majority is the most ignored population?  That we struggle to “earn a wage”?  Has the world’s population not exceeded its ability to produce adequate fuel and food?  “This world of defeat and debacle, anguish and ambiguity - but also, bravery and defiance - dominates the literature of the period” (Camus, XI).  “The bleakness, the banality and the sense of imprisonment were interpreted as an acute and accurate evocation of the feeling of the period, and the satire of a tainted legal system” (Camus, XII).  Alas, we can come to the agreement that The Stranger, written sixty years ago, has never been more pertinent or necessary than here and now.

“The Stranger’s hero, Meursault, became for many THE Existentialist hero” (Camus, XIII).  “The Stranger is a challenging work whose surface simplicity leads the reader through a series of largely mundane events towards an unresolvable ambiguity” (Camus, XIV).  “Enlightening because the day-to-day events recounted have an immediacy and directness or matter-of-factness which leave the reader with a sense of factual clarity.  Yet puzzling, because the facts that Meursault has chosen to recount are frequently of less significance than those he has chosen to omit” (Camus, XIV).  Often we find it the case, in therapy, or in life in general, that what we do not say or do not do bears more importance and meaning than what we do say or do.

Dunwoodie’s introduction also has psychotherapeutic intuitions as well.  “On first contact with the novel... we might then be inclined to see the hero, Meursault, as rather marginal, a misfit or an anti-social individual” (Camus, XIV - XV).  “Meursault’s primary concern is with immediate, sensual gratification” (Camus, XVII).  American culture has pushed its population to pursue greater production which insists that more, faster, is better.  “Meursault is an outsider:  not merely to society or convention, but to a world which is simultaneously the source of the Absurd man’s happiness, and his anguish” (Camus, XVIII).  The fervor, the focus, the passion, and the poison of this life is that we are conscious of our existence.  “But one day, on a street corner, on a beach, in a prison cell, ‘you ask yourself why...’ and, suddenly awakened from a life of habit, the individual is brought face to face with the meaninglessness of his existence” (Camus, XX).  Sooner or later, the truth will hit you, and it will never be soft.  The real question is whether or not you have within you the courage to face it head on and to look your fate in the eye.

“Man becomes conscious of being a prisoner condemned to death and... may be tempted to cling to religion, philosophy, or hope in an attempt to hide the truth about the ‘bloody mathematics’ of the human condition” (Camus, XX).  “Meursault becomes increasingly aware that he is ‘superfluous’, ‘useless’, that everything isn’t unfolding without hi, the he is alienated from his own experiences” (Camus, XXV).  Dunwoodie’s thoughts may be despairing to some.  Yet we find throughout The Stranger, and should take to heart, that Meursault never surrenders to these realizations.  Rather, he continues in spite of them.

Introduction

“Philosophy is dead.”  This was the sentiment offered by world renowned physicist Stephen Hawking in a 2011 interview with Google Inc. (Warman).  However, nothing could seemingly be further from the truth.  Philosophy, defined as the pursuit of wisdom, as well as several other entries in Encyclopedia Britanica’s Merriam-Webster Dictionary, seemingly transcends death.  In November and December of 2011 I was granted the opportunity to interview selected faculty members from Saybrook University, Seattle University, and the University of Dallas in regards to the role of philosophy in psychology and psychotherapy.  These interviewees included Dr. Alexandra Adame (Seattle University), Dr. Gilbert Garza (University of Dallas), Dr. Louis Hoffman (Saybrook University), and Dr. Robert Flax (Saybrook University).  These interviews were conducted on separate occasions with each interviewee lacking knowledge of the other interviews being conducted or the questions to be presented to them or other faculty members.  The concentration of this essay is psychotherapeutic in nature and not concerned with Hawking’s physics or metaphysics.  However, it is from Hawking’s statement which this essay’s lifeblood flows; furthermore asserting that if philosophy is dead than psychiatry has failed and science, if not applicable to the human condition, looses all practical relevance.

The first question presented to the interviewees was:  “What is the role of philosophy in psychology and psychotherapy?”  Dr. Alexandra Adame of Seattle University stated her training has been focused on the humanities and throughout her practice has always been thinking of interdisciplinary approaches to psychology.  Adame suggested many subjects address human nature and help to blur the lines of psychology.  Dr. Gilbert Garza of the University of Dallas commented that the importance of philosophy in psychology is that everyone has an implicit philosophy, however, only a few people choose to make that philosophy explicit.  Garza also stated that philosophy is not worthless and that it needs to be carried out.  That is, our values and beliefs shape our approach to essentially everything.  Garza continued by noting there is an implied philosophical underpinning to psychology and that underpinning factors into every aspect of psychology.  This includes psychotherapy.  Dr. Robert Flax of Saybrook University stated that the field of psychology is moving its practitioners towards being technicians, suggesting that such a movement was not desirable.  Flax continued to say that psychology draws on philosophy and that to do therapy, one does not need to be mindful of philosophy, but that such a mindfulness can enhance the practice both in depth and understanding.

Then next question presented, stemming from the first, was:  “What makes existential philosophy, in particular, pertinent to psychotherapy?”  Dr. Flax’s opinion was that any philosophical school can use its view of human nature for therapy.  Flax also pointed to the fact that the two original schools of therapy, behavioral and psychoanalytic, are both founded in philosophy.  On existentialism, Flax stated, “existentialism asks questions about existence that can lead to powerful insight.  Existentialism can offer (psychotherapy) marvelously powerful insight.”  Existentialism places an emphasis on responsibility for our actions (Garza).  Dr. Garza noted that our (American) culture has guided us away from responsibility and has lead to an emphasis on non-being.  Dr. Garza stated, “Existentialism is critical for therapy.”  Dr. Louis Hoffman suggested that existentialism is not necessarily better (for psychotherapy than any other philosophical modal), but that it does tend to be.  Dr. Hoffman stated existentialism benefits therapy by helping therapists see things and help the therapist to better identify with the clients and their issues.  The nature of existentialism is to ask; “What does it mean to exist?” (Hoffman).  Hoffman felt this is a very important issue in therapy in finding out where pain and struggle come from and in addressing everyday problems that we must deal with.  

The third question presented to the interviewees was asking them to explain what they believed was the goal of psychotherapy.  Dr. Flax stated, “The key to therapy is integration.”  While all the interviews were conducted separately and in a blinded fashion, it was implied by all who took part that the goal of psychotherapy was to end a client’s suffering.  This was implied by statements such that the goal of psychotherapy is to A) increase insight and self-awareness, B) give freedom to the client, and C) help people achieve their goals.

The primary concentration of this essay is, however, not the content of the conducted interviews, but the psychotherapeutic implications of a specific “existential” piece of literature, The Stranger by Albert Camus.  Camus is often regarded as an existential writer.  Whether this was Camus’ intention or whether it is true or false, the therapeutic potential of many of his works cannot, and should not, be ignored.  The Stranger is particularly exemplary of this potential.  The Stranger also embodies particular emotions evoked by existentialism.  It is noteworthy that Meursault, The Stranger’s narrator and protagonist, in an ironic twist, bears a striking resemblance to this embodiment and its presence in the people of today’s world.  There are also several other characters in The Stranger who are of psychological importance to the novel and its external implications.  The trial depicted in the novel is of political relevance to the time it was written but also demands the attention of any contemplative mind.  Perhaps the single most important exchange of the novel is between Meursault and the prison Chaplain near the end of the novel for both its psycho-social and philosophical-religious implications.  The introduction to the cited publication of the novel by Robert Dunwoodie is paramount to understanding the external applications of The Stranger.

Part I:  An Existential Tear

While existentialism is often considered to be pessimistic, it is more accurate to take note of the bittersweet serenity that flows from its works.  This type of peaceful sadness can be felt through several passages in The Stranger.  “If you go slowly, you risk getting sunstroke.  But if you work up a sweat and then catch a chill inside the church… There was no way out” (Camus 16-17).  This is an example of the “absurdity” that surrounds much of Camus’ work and existentialism.  That is, there is an undeniable contradiction between one’s search for meaning and their inability to find any.  Camus’ character Meursault laments this metaphorically in stating; “When I was first imprisoned, the hardest thing was that my thoughts were still those of a free man” (Camus 73).  Perhaps one of the greatest hardships, and reasons society has directed us away from responsibility for our actions, is that upon honest and deep reflection we find that owning responsibility for our actions creates a seemingly unbearable burden.  “I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I’d been happy.  Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace.  And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness” (Camus 56-57).  The quality of our existence is given meaning through responsibility and despair through irresponsibility and ignorance.   Existentialism offers a frequent whirlwind of emotion.  This storm has perfected itself in its embracing of all of life’s hardships, its sadness, its joys, its laughter, its agony, its tears, and its sweetness.  “I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.  Finding it so much like myself – so like a brother really” (Camus 117).
    
Part II:  Me and Meursault - The Epitome of the Human Condition

There is a discrete yet powerful connection between The Stranger’s readers and its protagonist Meursault.  The connection is, contrary to the title of the novel, that there are elements implied by Meursault’s feelings that make him an exquisite example of the human condition and the epitome of the people of his time.  The intuitive expressions of Meursault can be expressed in three categories relevant to psychotherapy.  They include “guilt and happiness”, “romantic idealism”, and “intrinsic empathy.”  

“I probably did love Maman, but that didn’t mean anything.  At one time or another all normal people have wished their loved ones were dead” (Camus, 63).  Throughout the novel Meursault continuously attempts to reconcile his actions and his mother’s death.  This theme is persistent throughout The Stranger and establishes its foundation earlier in the novel than any other.  Speaking of his mother’s death, Meursault states; “it’s not my fault... after all, I didn’t have anything to apologize for” (Camus, 3).  Avoidant behavior is a typical response to guilt or remorse.  Denial is engaged as a defense mechanism for our conscience.  Often a guilty conscience will speak much louder than a serene one, as illustrated on the following page as Meursault states; “I thought he was criticizing me for something and I started to explain” (Camus, 4).  While Meursault does not explicitly mourn his mother it is evident that he expresses an underlying agonizing guilt.  “I felt like telling her it wasn’t my fault, but I stopped myself because I remembered that I’d already said that to my boss.  It didn’t mean anything.  Besides, you always feel a little guilty” (Camus, 9).

Fortunately the bitterness of guilt is not without a counterpart.  The sadness of the novel is frequently accompanied by a seemingly pantheistic serenity that permeates from the entire essence of the novel.  Simplicity and serenity with a tinge of bitter realism is the primary condoling effort of The Stranger.  “Seeing the rows of cypress trees leading up to the hills next to the sky, and the houses standing out here and there against that red and green earth, I was able to understand Maman better.  Evenings in that part of the country must have been a kind of sad relief” (Camus, 14-15).  There is an intimate peace of mind kept alive by the pieces of tranquil hope scattered throughout Camus’ novel.  Describing a swim with his love, Marie, Meursault muses; “We felt a closeness as we moved in unison and we were happy” (Camus, 48).  
For the client seeking therapy it is integral to understand from Meursault that noxious
self pity is corrosive to even the most noble of intentions.  We should also heed the warning that no matter the grandeur of splendor of happiness, peace will never quite elude the price of misery.

The cries of existentialism are in response to and synergistically intertwined with the efforts of the Romantic Movement that swept Europe during the nineteenth century (Brians).  Both models are responses to the focus of the Enlightenment movement’s focus on science, reason, and logic (Hacket).  The connotations of nineteenth century Romanticism bear a contingent connotation to psychotherapy in the modern world.  If the romantic is truly a hopeless idealist then the existentialist is the lost realist, hence their implied foray into psychotherapy.  There is a sense of romantic idealism found throughout The Stranger; a sort of serene musing that graciously accompanies its existential view.  “I smoked a couple of cigarettes, went inside to get a piece of chocolate, and went back to the window to eat it.  Soon after that, the sky grew dark and I thought we were in for a summer storm.  Gradually, though, it cleared up again.  But the passing clouds had left a hint of rain hanging over the street, which made it look darker.  I sat there for a long time and watched the sky” (Camus, 21).  

The Stranger’s therapeutic Romanticism is expressed as Meursault voraciously asserts; “I said that people never change their lives, that in any case one life was as good as another and that I wasn’t dissatisfied with mine here at all” (Camus, 40) and later in “I didn’t like having to explain to them, so I just shut up, smoked a cigarette, and looked at the sea” (Camus, 52).  Perhaps Romanticism is best exemplified by Caspar Friedrich’s painting Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (seen on title page).  This painting expresses Romanticism beyond verbosity and is a precise capsulation of Meursault’s emotions throughout The Stranger.  The angst accompanied joys of the novel are brought to fruition in by Friedrich’s painting.  “I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn’t mine anymore, but one in which I’d found the simplest and most lasting joys:  the smells of summer, the part of town I loved, a certain evening sky, Marie’s dresses and the way she laughed...” (Camus, 100).  “I spend my days watching how the dwindling of color turns day into night” (Camus, 103).

Another universally embodied feeling characterized by Meursault is the essence of an intrinsic empathy.  That is, the seemingly subconscious ability of humans to attempt to feel the emotions of another being without bias.  “I tried my best to please Raymond because I didn’t have any reason not to please him” (Camus, 31).  In a therapeutic sense, empathy is not exclusive to human-to-human expressions as seen by Meursault’s intuition as Salamano tells Meursault that his dog has run away.  “We’d had a run in every now and then.  But he was a good dog just the same.  I said he was well bred and Salamano looked pleased.  ‘and’, he added, ‘you didn’t’ know him before he got sick.  His coat was the best thing about him’” (Camus, 44).  The most begrudging psychotherapeutic induction of empathy is that there is, in some cases, a disconnection between desire and ability.  Meursault confers our incapable willingness to understand others, stating, “I believed it, but I didn’t understand it” (Camus, 77).
   
Part III - Characters of Psycho-Social Significance

There are several characters throughout The Stranger who bear relevance to the human condition.  Our state of mind and state of being hold not only a psychological significance but a social-interpersonal one as well.  This gives, in part, an illustration as to our “condition” as human beings.  As the novel is relatively short in length, every passage, every paradox, and every minute character serves an apparent, though sometimes subtle, function for the overall arch of the story.

At one point Camus depicts a “robot woman” whom Meursault meets in a cafe.  In a society advocating that more is better, the Robot Woman is symbolic of current American culture and societal function.  Meursault describes her as feverish, meticulous, zealous, having robot-like movements, and (while walking down the street) never once swerving or looking around (Camus, 42).  Many people seek therapy because they come to the realization that the grind of their mechanistic well-reasoned way of living has overcome their ethos; a fact that imbues despair and anguish.  The Robot Woman also appears at Meursault’s trial with an unwavering and speechless fixation on him.  The symbolism here is not explicit, but it is certainly implicit that momentary interactions can have a momentous impact on our nature and being.

Salamano, Meursault’s neighbor, is also depicting of human nature.  Meursault observes Salamano and his dog and comments on their relationship; “Then they both stand there on the sidewalk and stare at each other, the dog in terror, the man in hatred” (Camus, 26).  We often encounter a paradox in our lives such that we consistently and continuously interact and surround ourselves with things that make us unhappy.  The underlying causation for this is potentially because what makes us observantly unhappy also serves as a medium of emotional connection.  Hate is not the opposite of love.  Hate is the fruition of emotional evocation just as love is.  “Sure, I’ve been meaning to get him a smaller collar for a long time.  But I never thought the bastard would take off like that... Pay money for that bastard - ha!  He can damn well die” (Camus, 37).  These are Salamano’s sentiments after his dog has run away.  However, Salamano’s ulterior feelings are later revealed as Meursault, preparing to fall asleep after the conversation with Salamano, makes a feint observation.  “I realized he was crying” (Camus, 38).

The Magistrate in The Stranger is representative of a particular sub-culture within America and that is that of the neoconservative bigot.  For example, The Magistrate self-righteously and persistently asks Meursault if he believes in God.  “I said no.  He sat down indignantly.  He said it was impossible; all men believe in God, even those who turn their backs on him... ‘I am a Christian.  I ask Him to forgive you your sins.  How can you not believe that He suffered for you?” (Camus, 66-67).  Alas, Meursault confides an astute observation on behalf of The Magistrate.  “That was his belief, and if he were ever to doubt it, his life would become meaningless” (Camus, 66).  If misery does in fact love company and we take pleasure in the emotional espousal of hatred then this is best represented in the statement; “I was almost surprised that I had ever enjoyed anything other than those rare moments when the judge would lead me to the door of his office, slap me on the shoulder, and say to me cordially, ‘that’s all for today, Monsieur Antichrist’” (Camus, 68).

There are also several other characters in the novel who possess strong overtones; however this symbolic interpretations are found throughout the novel as a whole rather than in isolated exchanges.  Marie, Meursault’s lover, represents passion and innocence.  Raymond, Meursault’s friend, represents an antagonistic free-lancer who does as he pleases and a rabble-rouser counterpart to Meursault. Mason, Raymond’s friend, depicts a good-natured and jolly soul, epitomizing joy and fulfillment with one’s accomplishments; the seeming antithesis of Meursault.

Part IV - The Trial

The process of The Trial in The Stranger seems a character of itself.  It is obvious that The Stranger was written in a politically tumultuous time; alas the focus of this reflection is not politics.  The character of The Trial, in accordance with every other character in The Stranger, has much to teach us in the way of social interaction and psychology.  The Trial’s characteristics are discrete but availed through its processes.  For example, “I can’t say what distinguished one (jury member) from another.  I had just one impression:  I was sitting across from a row of seats on a streetcar and all these anonymous passengers were looking over the new arrival to see if they could find something funny about him” (Camus, 80).  Perhaps rampant xenophobia is not as exclusive to our time and nation as we Americans might think.  “I explained to myself the stranger impression I had of being the odd man out, a kind of intruder” (Camus, 81).  “For the first time in years I had this stupid urge to cry, because I could feel how much all these people hated me” (Camus, 86).

Contained within The Trial, the prosecutor stands at the helm of The Trial’s characterizations.  The accusing avocations of Meursault’s prosecutor are that “A stranger may offer a cup of coffee, but that beside the body of the one who brought him into the world, a son should have refused it” (Camus, 87) and “The emptiness of a man’s heart becomes... an abyss threatening to swallow up society” (Camus, 97).  

The trial, like the novel itself, is full of paradoxical situations.  Meursault’s lawyer appropriately states, “Here we have a perfect reflection of this entire trial:  everything is true and nothing is true” (Camus, 88).  The Trial is indicative of society and we find many statements about The Trial which are pertinent to American culture today.  Meursault’s intuition serves him well as he accurately surmises these implications by lamenting, “My lawyer raised his arms and pleaded guilty but with an explanation.  The prosecutor waved his hands and proclaimed my guilt, but without an explanation... I couldn’t quite understand how an ordinary man’s good qualities could become crushing accusations against a guilty man” (Camus, 94, 97).  “Yes, it was the hour when, a long time ago, I was perfectly content.  What awaited me back then was always a night of easy, dreamless sleep.  And yet something had changed, since it was back to my cell that I went to wait for the next day... as a if familiar paths traced in summer skies could lead as easily to prison as to the sleep of the innocent” (Camus, 93).

Part V - Exchange With The Chaplain

It is the final exchange with The Chaplain that is the apex of The Stranger.  Accordingly it is the conversation that bears the most philosophical, social, and psychological relevance to any generation.  A statement Meursault actually makes to describe the trial is actually more evident of the final exchange with The Chaplain.  “Despite a willingness to understand, I just couldn’t accept such arrogant certainty” (Camus, 104).  The exchange itself begins with The Chaplain asking why Meursault has refused to see him and continues as Meursault narrates; “I said that I didn’t believe in God.  He wanted to know if I was sure and I said that I didn’t see any reason to ask myself that question:  it seemed unimportant” (Camus, 110).  “‘What do you think?’ I said it was possible...He asked me if I wasn’t talking that way out of extreme despair.  I explained to him that I wasn’t desperate.  I was just afraid, which was only natural.  ‘Then God can help you’, he said.  ‘Every man I have known in your position has turned to Him.’  I acknowledge that that was their right.  The way he saw it, we were all condemned to die.  ‘Certainly’, he agreed.  ‘But if you don’t die today, you’ll die tomorrow, or the next day.  And then the same question will arise.  How will you face that terrifying ordeal?” (Camus, 111).  “‘Have you no hope at all?  And do you really live with the thought that when you die, you die, and nothing remains?’ Yes, I said.  Then he lowered his head and sat back down.  He told me that he pitied me.  He thought it was more than a man could bear.  I could see that he was genuinely upset so I listened more closely” (Camus, 112).  It is important to note that while The Chaplain is just as firm in his beliefs as The Magistrate.  However The Chaplain’s role appears to be that of assistance rather than persecution.  Meursault suavely counters The Chaplain’s point that other men condemned to death have turned to God by stating that this was their right, hinting that it was also his right to refuse or diverge from that belief.  The Chaplain brings up an important issue in our lives.  Death is inevitable.  However, if it consumes our thoughts, it will consume our lives.  On the contrary still, if thoughts of death (or anything) are buried within ourselves, we eventually collapse inward and loose ourselves to the compounded and merciless hands of our transgressions.

The conversation continues.  The Chaplain expresses his conviction that living with the belief that there is nothing after death was more than a man could bear (Camus, 112).  The Chaplain then asks Meursault; “Do you really love this earth as much as all that?” (Camus, 113).  Meursault does not answer, but I believe there is an implied “yes.”  The Chaplain then exclaims; “No, I refuse to believe you!  I know that at one time or another you’ve wished for another life” (Camus, 114).  “I (Meursault) said of course I had, but it didn’t mean any more than wishing to be rich, to be able to swim faster or to have a more nicely shaped mouth.  It was all the same.  But he (The Chaplain) stopped me and wanted to know how I pictured this other life.  Then I shouted at him, ‘One where I could remember this life!’  I was pouring out on him everything that was in my heart, cries of anger and cries of joy.  He seemed so certain about everything, didn’t he?  And yet none of his certainties was worth one hair on a woman’s head.  He wasn’t even sure he was alive, because he was living like a dead man” (Camus, 114).  This exchange is paramount to understanding the implications that The Stranger has on the ultimate concerns of being.  Meursault admits that he may have wished for another life but that doing so did not condemn his current life to nothingness.  In Meursault’s opinion, and correctly so, The Chaplain was living like a “dead man” because his fixation on life after death had invoked a negligent passé approach through life prior to death.  Life without hope is not indicative of despair and being without meaning is anything but quaint nothingness.  In a sense, The Chaplain is blinded by his faith.  Camus brilliantly pens a line recited by The Chaplain but its strongest implications are evoked against the speaker.  “I am on your side.  But you have no way of knowing it because your heart is blind” (Camus, 114).

Conclusion

There are several other intricacies of The Stranger that teach us a great deal about ourselves, our race as humans, our existence, and our emotions.  For example, in light of Romanticism and Existentialism, and even earlier with Immanuel Kant; perfect reasoning is not a perfect system.  Certainly there is more to human nature than the sum of a system of processes.  Meursault confers; “... naturally, you can’t always be reasonable” (Camus, 105).  If there is one thing that all humans share, it is death.  This is evident in that death will inevitably overcome all of us.  The end of this life is no more meaningless than the essence of life itself.  “There was nothing more important than an execution, and that when you come right down to it, it was the only things a man could truly be interested in” (Camus, 105).  Again, from a therapeutic perspective it is important to address the adversities of one’s life.  Though painful as this process may be, there is strength to be gained through agony and wisdom sought in tragedy.  Meursault’s description of death by guillotine is a quite accurate depiction of death in general.  The thought of death brings us a little shame and works with great precision in a discrete yet unstoppable fashion (Camus, 107).

Death is an overwhelmingly apparent theme in The Stranger.  The sentiments of the novel towards death are best reflected; “Everybody knows life isn’t worth living.  Deep down I knew perfectly well that it doesn’t much matter whether you die at thirty or at seventy, since in either case other men and women will naturally go on living - and for thousands of years.  In fact, nothing could be clearer” (Camus, 108).  “Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter” (Camus, 109).  “I understood very well that people would forget me when I was dead” (Camus, 110).

Camus also expresses an important quality of life and that is consciousness.  Camus seems to assert that the quality of life is heavily dependent on embracing it in its entirety.  That is, all of its happiness, its sorrow, its unfairness, and its tragedy.  “I’ve never liked being surprised.  If something is going to happen to me, I want to be there” (Camus, 107).  “Maman used to say that you can always find something to be happy about” (Camus, 108).

While the theme of death is obvious throughout the novel, the yang to death’s yin (to use Chinese spirituality as an analogy) is the process of living.  Death, while an obvious one, is not the most important theme in The Stranger.  That title goes to the necessary tension between life and death and the paradox thereof in which we spend our mortal existence.  “I had lived my life one way and I could just as well have lived it another... It was as if I had waited all this time for this moment and for the first light of this dawn to be vindicated.  Nothing, nothing, mattered, and I knew why... Everybody was privileged.  There were only privileged people.  The others would all be condemned one day” (Camus, 115).

Whatever a person’s reasons for seeking therapy or a career in a psychological or social environment, any contemplative person should read and re-read The Stranger as its content and practical application demand so.  There is not any person who should have to bear the weight of their life alone.  When and why a person dies are irrelevant for reasons already discussed.  A life of absolute authenticity may lead to the most absurdly accelerated time of death, however the question of greatest prominence remains; at the time of your last breath will you wish for another life?  Will you be mortified that you were blind and have, all this time, been dead, and in your final hour are brought to life?  We are strangers to ourselves and to our cultures.  The tension of our obscurity and isolation give purpose to our existence just as a shadow verifies the sunlight.  Meursault once stared into the sun and it wreaked havoc on his life, yet it awakened him to the maddening truth of the world and opened his eyes to the responsibility he owes his existence.  Do you possess the constitution to stare into the sun?

I have suggested that the life-death paradox is a bittersweet one.  Never is this clearer in The Stranger than in some of its concluding sentiments.  As the day of Meursault’s execution draw near he reflects; “I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life [Maman] had taken a fiancé, why she had played at the beginning again... I felt so close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again.  Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her” (Camus, 116).  “I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.  For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish there to be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate” (Camus, 117).

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