I went deep in the mountains to gather firewood.

In the mountains' depths were stream after stream.

Where a bridge had fallen,

A recumbent log was clasped,

Where the road dropped sheer, 

Hanging vines were held.

By sunset companions had grown fewer,

And a mountain wind brushed my burlap robes.

A long song, my light staff over my shoulder,

I gazed into mist of wild plains and went home. 

-Meng Hao-jan courtesy of dailyzen.com

In many ways psychotherapy is about going deep in the mountains to gather firewood. They are my client's mountains, I do not provide a path rather I serve as a traveling companion. We journey through the damage in his or her  life and make the discoveries that are so beautifully articulated in this poem. The fallen bridges of failed relationships or endeavors in our life are explored from the natural supports; if the road falls away breath us we utilize the hanging vines to continue in our journey. When we are sitting in my office the subtle riches of the present moment are discovered within the painful emotional experiences. They accumulate over time and become the precious light needed to explore the dark. At the end of the day I return to my home having gazed into the mist of wild plains with courageous people seeking some enlightenment.