‘There is a Time for Everything’

Kristian Valbak

‘Of all the flowers, methinks a rose is best.’ – W. Shakespeare, 1613

Introduction

The idea that ‘there is a time for everything’ reflects a deep wisdom about the cycles of life and the importance of patience, acceptance, and timing. It suggests that every moment, action, or feeling has its appropriate place in the larger scheme of things. This idea is famously expressed in the Bible in the book of Ecclesiastes, which speaks of the ‘seasons’ of life and the natural rhythms that govern human existence.

Chronos and Kairos

Time is also an important part of psychoanalytic psychotherapy. We find comfort in the rhythms emerging from the therapeutic time-patterns and the recurrence of the sessions. And we set limits for our sessions with time. The time dimension affects all of us, the therapist no less than the patient.

Time can be experienced as slow – or elusive, disappearing without notice. Chronos – in Greek Mythology – the creator of the Universe, is the embodiment of the flowing time (like in ‘chronic’). We sometimes say, that ‘time is running’, but in fact it is we, who is ‘running’ – out. The only thing, that we can’t buy, is ‘time’.

Kairos is an ancient Greek word meaning ‘the right or critical moment’. We can easily relate that to groups as ‘moments of meeting’, of understanding (interpretation) or sometimes – as formulated by Kierkegaard – ‘where eternity touches time’.

The English group analyst Murray Cox in his book ‘Structuring the therapeutic Process. – Compromise with Chaos’ – centered ‘timing’ and ‘ripeness’. He wrote:

‘If the therapist can appropriately structure the situation, he will find that by using the dimensions of time, depth and mutuality, he can render the situation tolerable for his patient who is enabled to acquire self-awareness at a depth and pace controlled by the therapist.’ – Murray Cox, 1988.

A time to weep and a time to laugh

A member of a long-term analytic group once asked me after a session, what was the meaning of crying out his eyes every Wednesday from four to half past five? I answered him:

“There’s a time for everything – a time to cry and a time not to cry. The latter could be a comforting option for the rest of the week!”

I have learned, that grief can last a lifetime, but not all of the time. And the process of mourning can only take place in relations with others.

Group analytic work facilitates the transition from social isolation to participation in a shared and democratic community – a dynamic matrix in which individuals can engage in exploration of thoughts and emotions through interaction with others. True healing, I believe, emerges through being seen, acknowledged and recognized (Valbak, 2015). However, such transformation necessitates psychological readiness, tolerance for uncertainty, and the capacity for patience – all of which takes time (Valbak, 2018).

The circle of life

We know that every beginning must have an end. This applies to life, of course, but it also applies to most relationships. But as Eliot wrote:

…. to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where, we start from…’ – T.S. Eliot, 1942

Cherry Trees in Aarhus

The flowering of cherry trees in Japan, known as ‘sakura’, lasts only one to two weeks and is meant to remind us of the transience of life and the beauty found in the temporary. ‘Hanami’ means ‘seeing flowers’ with colleagues and family to savor the beauty and celebrate the arrival of spring. This rich but short-lived flowering is celebrated in many parts of the world. It should encourage us to embrace change and see the beauty in both necessary inevitable endings and new beginnings.

A time to mourn

Separation and loss events are universal in the life process from birth to death. We experience weaning from the breast, the separation from parents, leaving school and moving from our childhood home. We lose work in retirement and fertility, potency and strength in old age. Finally, we lose life.

In addition, there is an almost endless stream of experiences that revive the anxieties associated with separation and individuation. Divorce, illness, loss of status and the collapse of cherished life dreams often accompany us throughout life. Of course, a total mastery of these situations is not possible and every one of us develops a personal way of coping with these losses. Music and songs of all genres, especially blues, try to soothe the grief and pain of losing our love ones.

As Emily Dickinson so beautifully expresses:

‘Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell.’ – Emily Dickinson, 1957

A time to leave

As therapists we know, that inherent in the encounter and attachment is loss and separation. ‘Pleasant or not, closure is built into the therapeutic process from the beginning. After all, our stated goal is to get our patients out of therapy’ – Kauff, 1977

One of the most difficult moments in the life of a group occurs when a member prepares to leave. Such departures inevitably reactivate earlier experiences of loss, triggering a wide range of emotional responses. Anxiety, ambivalence, grief, anger, sadness, helplessness, and confusion may emerge – in all members of the group including the conductor.

In ‘The Uses of Countertransference’, Gorkin (1989) has aptly described five counter-transferential difficulties that arise in the final phase of therapy:

The therapist’s desire for perfection
The therapist’s capacity to tolerate grief
The therapist’s ability to share the patient’s achieved progress in the closing phase – including feelings of joy
The therapist’s desire for gratification and gratitude – and
The therapist’s desire to be seen (and known) as a ‘real’ person.

Gorkin points out that we strive to ‘cure’ patients completely, and when treatment ends with unfinished business, it leaves many of us with a sense of disappointment. Therapists are often skeptical when assessing whether the treatment has been comprehensive enough. Schafer (1973) suggests that the roots of these ideas and ideals lie in infantile fantasies of omnipotence that no one ever fully relinquishes. Perhaps ideas and ideals that played an important role in the choice to become a therapist. These feelings can naturally interfere with the therapist’s ability to help the patient through the closure process. Just as the patient must let go and mourn the lost opportunities, the therapist must mourn their own loss.

You might already understand, that what I have listed as the conductor’s challenges also has validity in his life outside the group.

A time to speak – no time to waste

In general, people at the end of their lives do not regret what they have done, but rather regret, what they didn’t do. This applies especially to their relationships. This truth is frequently found in both literature and music. Look here what Paul McCartney sang in 1989:

‘Did I ever touch you on the cheek
Say that you were mine, thank you for the smile?
Did I ever knock upon your door
Try to get inside?
If I never did it, I was only waiting
For a better moment that didn’t come.
There never could be a better moment
Than this one, this one.’

Paul McCartney, ‘Flowers in the dirt’, 1989.

The idea that regrets often comes from missed opportunities rather than mistakes made, is a common reflection on the human experience. It speaks to the notion of living fully, of taking risks, and of embracing experiences even if they come with challenges.

A time to remember

So – there is a time to reflect on one’s professional life and – for a research character like myself – a time to take stock. What was the dream, and how well did it come through? What have I accomplished over the course of my fifty years in the medical profession? Did I ‘learn from experience’ and was I able to convey that knowledge to younger colleagues? Was I – ‘intelligently and kindly’ – able to help those, who needed it the most?

My first job as a doctor at a psychiatric department was already in 1971, when I was 22 years old. I was confronted with the suffering of psychiatric patients and became indignant, devoted and rebellious.

I was influenced by the contemporary uprising critique of the institutional authorities, behaving paternalistic and dehumanizing particularly toward those, who were mentally ill, intellectually disadvantaged or marginalized – individuals, who had lost their way in society.

Films like ‘Lilith’ (1964) by my favourite instructor Robert Rossen, ‘Family Life’ (1971) by Ken Loach and ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ (1975) by Milos Forman brought central questions to the traditional psychiatric treatment and left a profound and lasting impression on me. It was a time where new ideas and understandings of psychoses flourished. Ronald D. Laing, David Cooper and Maxwell Jones entered the stage with therapeutic communities, day hospitals and patients’ rights and influence. The massive deinstitutionalization brought more freedom, which unfortunately for many was not accompanied by improvements in social conditions. This was depicted in this poster from the ‘Psichiatria Democratica’ movement in Arezzo in Northern Italy, where I spend some weeks in 1978.

Frames read:

“Years ago, I was strapped, beaten and electro-chocked”
“Then came ‘Psychiatry Democratica’”
“Down came the walls. Freedom and discussions. I felt good.”
“Now I am Outside, looking for home, friends and work.”
“Nothing!”
“We are treated as insane, even though we are cured”

I was here and there and visited psychiatric departments in Portugal, China, Canada, Italy, Australia and Chestnut lodge in Maryland, where psychoanalysis was offered to severely mentally ill patients.

A time to plant – from individual psychotherapy to group analysis.

I was early in various experiential self-development groups like gestalt therapy and psychodrama, but only later as part of my position at the psychotherapeutic department in Aarhus, I started a regular psychoanalytic training.

My first therapist was a psychoanalyst, who after two years left his position and recommended me as a candidate to a newly established group analytic training in Aarhus.

After three years of continuous weekly group therapy, but with supervision and theory seminars in blocks, I was given the opportunity to join the block training in Oslo – together with a colleague, becoming the first external Danish participants. We were twelve in the therapy group including the English conductor. One woman – a psychiatric nurse – resonated with something in myself and we developed a good relation in the group.

We met again in 1996 at the European Group Analytic Symposium in Copenhagen, where I was a member of the organizing committee. The theme that year was ‘Destruction and Desire’. During a pause before dessert at the Gala Dinner – held in Tivoli, the historic amusement park – we spontaneously slipped away for a ride on the roller coaster. It was a light-hearted and memorable experience.

Many years passed before we happened to meet again, this time in Oslo at the 20th anniversary of the Norwegian Institute. I had recently completed treatment for a colon cancer – surgery followed by chemotherapy. After my initial recovery from the hospital stay, I felt relatively well for a period. But gradually, I became increasingly nauseous and overwhelmingly fatigued. I lost sensation in both my hands and feet. One day, as I sat outside in my garden, gazing at the grass and the bare soil, a memory surfaced: The novel ‘I Never Promised You a Rose Garden’. The psychotherapist in the novel is Frieda Fromm-Reichman, who could not promise her young female patient a rose-garden, if she chose to return to reality from her psychotic world. The story and her writings were a deep inspiration during my early years as a psychotherapist.

In that moment, I made the decision to create a rose garden! I started modestly, buying two or three roses and carefully planting them. The work absorbed me, and I found great joy in it. As I tended the garden, I recalled the days back in the seventies at the large psychiatric hospital in Aarhus, where patients spent time working in the hospital gardens.

Back in Oslo in 2012, our encounter was unexpected. I greeted her with a cheerful, ‘Hello, Marianne!’ She smiled and replied, ‘No, Kristian, it’s dr. Gonzalez!’ She had achieved two of the most important goals in her life: She got married, and she had completed a Ph.D. thesis, which she handed to me with a kind dedication.

The title of her work was: ‘Therapeutic horticulture for clinical depression in a green care context: Prospective studies on Mental Health Benefits, active components and existential issues.’ She proved in her research, that gardening has a healing effect on depression. What a wonderful coincidence!

A citation of Thomas Moore was chosen for the front page:

‘We may have to learn again the mystery of the garden: How its external characteristics model the heart itself, and how the soul is the garden enclosed, our own perceptual paradise where we can be refreshed and restored’ – Thomas Moore

A time to keep and a time to throw away

We – in what Freud famously called the ‘impossible profession’ – have chosen a path that repeatedly brings us face to face with deep suffering and human misery. It can be overwhelming, and we may wish to step back – for a while or forever.

Twenty-four years as a training analyst, and even more in national and international organizational work, have undoubtedly left their imprint on my life. I had to learn how to balance my complacency with humility, my pessimism with humor, and my honesty with self-protection. It took some years to feel at home in my profession and to reach a place of ease. But perhaps the time has now come to retire, to resign – and to reconcile.

Yet the group analytic profession has also given so much. Among the most meaningful and perhaps unexpected gifts, have been the relationships it fostered. Within the Group Analytic Society and EGATIN, I found genuine friendships across Europe and even beyond. I developed – as we say – an ‘extended family’ – full of vitality and knowledge. Colleagues from whom I learned a lot.

Extended family in Barcelona 2020 – the GASi Committee

The meaning of life

Inevitably, one may be faced with the eternal question: What is the meaning of life? I cannot claim to have explored the depths of philosophical literature to answer this question, so what follows may be familiar to many – but seems to hold a certain universal truth.

Voltaire’s famous statement, “We must cultivate our garden” is often paraphrased into a more modern triad. To leave a lasting legacy, one should ‘have a child’, ‘plant a tree’, and ‘write a book’. The child symbolizes the perpetuation of life, the tree stands for growth and our connection to nature, and the book embodies the transmission of knowledge, creativity, and experience – offering something to others, even after we are gone.

Victor Frankl, the Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, emphasized, that finding personal meaning in life, is crucial to human well-being. It is the pursuit of meaning and the ability to find purpose, even in the most difficult circumstances, that gives life its depth.

He stated: ‘The meaning of life is the will to giving meaning to your life’ Victor Frankl, 1970 / (author’s addition in italics)

Calvinist thoughts emphasize the doctrine of vocation. This perspective also shaped the Protestant work ethic, where diligence, responsibility, and excellence in one’s profession are seen not only as virtues but as ways of serving a higher purpose.

In a broader and perhaps more secular sense, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry touches upon this notion in his writings: that a person may be driven by a mission in service of society — whether through communication, creation, or the struggle for freedom. Such a mission can be deeply meaningful, even if it comes at the cost of personal relationships or comfort.

The last time of life

Erik Erikson’s theory of psychosocial development outlines a series of life stages, each defined by a central psychological conflict. Originally, he identified eight stages, but a ninth was later proposed by his wife, Joan Erikson, as an extension of his work.

This ninth and final stage and conflict – often referred to as ‘integrity versus despair’ – addresses the psychological task of late adulthood – the closing chapter of life. It centers on how individuals reflect upon their lives and assess, whether they find a sense of meaning and coherence – and experience ‘integrity’ or view their lives as unfulfilled, marked by missed opportunities and experience ‘despair’, often accompanied by a growing fear of death.

A time to die

Fear of death is the mother of all religions and all rituals are intended to alleviate fear and protect against misfortune.

The American group therapist Irvin Yalom wrote: ‘It’s not easy to live every moment wholly aware of death. It’s like trying to stare the sun in the face: you can stand only so much of it. Because we cannot live frozen in fear, we generate methods to soften death’s terror. We project ourselves into the future through our children; we grow rich, famous, ever larger; we develop compulsive protective rituals; or we embrace an impregnable belief in an ultimate rescuer’ Irvin D. Yalom, 2010

He introduces the concepts ‘spiritual awakening‘ and ’existential awakening’ to describe moments of profound personal insight. These awakenings often arise, when individuals confront existential realities – such as death, freedom, isolation, and responsibility – particularly in the face of life-threatening illness, such as cancer.

The core existential lesson is this: death is inevitable, and no one can escape their fate. Regardless of the measures one takes, fate follows its own course and its own timing. Coming to terms with this reality can be terrifying – but also transformative, offering a deeper appreciation for life, meaning, and human connection.

I think, it is widely known, that the difficult part of dying is to do it with dignity. We might find some guidance in looking on how our parents and colleges died.

Foulkes died from cardiac arrest during a theory seminar at the age of 77. He smoked, but not extensively and he liked to play tennis. His death left a void which nobody was eager to fill. The untraditional choice fell on Bryan Boswood, who was a veterinarian by profession. I came to know him first as my supervisor in my training in Oslo, then in Aarhus, where he supervised the program for four years and then again at the meetings and seminars in GASi and EGATIN.

Bryan Boswood at the EGATIN SD 2008

He was a kind, inclusive and modest man with a good sense of humor. From the obituary, written by John Schlapobersky, I learned the following: ‘He retired in 2004, settling with Janet in Devon. There, his interests included bell-ringing, choral singing and lecturing on the physics of tides.’ – J. Schlapobersky

As his days drew to a close, he did something both unusual and courageous. He reached out to people in our community, inviting us to write to him if we had something we wished to say before his passing. How often have we heard it said at funerals, that the kind and meaningful words spoken there, should have been shared, while the person was still alive?

In Denmark we have a TV program called ‘The last Word’, where respected and well-known persons are invited to an interview, that is only aired after their death. In one of these interviews, the filmmaker, entertainer and socialist Erik Clausen shared, what he considered his best joke:

‘A truck driver on his way to the Zoo with 25 penguins has a motor failure on the road and can’t go on. Another truck stops and the driver offers to help. The first man asks if he can bring the penguins to the Zoo in Copenhagen and the other man agrees.

A few hours later, after finally managing to fix his truck, the first driver continues his journey and after a while passes Copenhagen’s Town Hall Square.

There – to his surprise – he sees the helpful man walking and behind him in a row the 25 penguins. He leans out the window and shouts, “Hey! Didn’t I tell you to take them to the Zoo?” The second driver smiles and replies, “We have been to the Zoo – and now we’re on our way to Tivoli !’

A time to fight and a time to rest

There is overwhelming evidence that poverty is a major determinant of health, contributing to a wide range of physical and mental illnesses and, that the best treatment is mostly delivered to those, who are well educated and wealthy.

I do not believe that freedom emerges solely from therapy or open communication. But it can support the struggle against oppression and alienation.

Rose Schneiderman (1882–1972) was an American labor organizer and feminist. As a member of the New York Women’s Trade Union League, she drew attention to unsafe workplace conditions and as a suffragist, she helped to pass the New York state referendum of 1917 that gave women the right to vote. She is credited with coining the phrase ‘Bread and Roses’ to indicate a worker’s right to something more than subsistence living.

‘Bread and Roses’ is a political slogan as well as the name of an associated poem and song by James Oppenheim. – The second verse goes like this.

‘As we come marching, marching, we battle, too, for men —
For they are women’s children and we mother them again.
Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes —
Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses.’

James Oppenheim, 1911

And hopefully, we will have roses to enjoy, when we retire from our professional work!

Thanks for your Time!

Notes

1) This paper was presented at the LGAD International Summer Conference of Group Analysis, ‘The circle of life. What does the ending of group and practice bring?’ in Vilnius, Lithuania, June 2025.

2) The Danish word for ‘praise’ is ‘rose’

3) ‘I Never Promised You a Rose Garden’ is a semi-autobiographical novel by Joanne Greenberg, originally written under the pen name of Hannah Green. The character of Dr. Fried is based closely on Greenberg’s real doctor Frieda Fromm-Reichmann, and the hospital on Chestnut Lodge in Rockville, Maryland.

4) During writing this text I searched and found Marianne Thorsen Gonzales. We had a lovely conversation, and she agreed to the use of our story in this paper.

References

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Thorsen Gonzales, M. ‘Therapeutic horticulture for clinical depression in a green care context: Prospective studies on Mental Health Benefits, active components and existential issues’, PhD. Thesis, 2010

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Voltaire. Candide, 1759. * “Il faut cultiver notre jardin.”

Yalom, I. Staring at the Sun – Overcoming the Terror of Death, 2007.