Bengaluru Workshop, Reflections from Participants: 2

The Sacred Group – My experience of Group Analysis

From the time I first heard about the Introduction to Group Analysis, my vivid imagination went a bit wild. I was curious about the facilitators and aching for the experience of something extraordinary. In my mind, the group became a sacred, mystical space that draws people out and one man/woman, senses the palpable feeling in the room, as if through his/her pores, and weaves it into the conversation as a stunning, bewildering interpretation. This picture was exciting and unsettling. What excited me was the fantastical thought that I would come out the other end wielding magnificent skills and become someone akin to a miracle worker. The discomfort set in at the thought of an analyst surgically peeling my mind to uncover the thoughts and feelings that drive me to, often, be someone I am ashamed of. When the names of the facilitators had been disclosed, I went online and devoured every bit of information I could about my to-be therapist. I wanted to consume everything that had been produced about and by Farhad and Angelika. The desire to be the flawless student/patient had overrun my mind. This was a familiar feeling – I have known this as part of my group. I have wanted to know the secrets held by my therapist that put him in the position that I am in awe of. I have wanted to overthrow him and take over.

The three days that I was at Fireflies, moving in and out of teaching and therapy groups, humbled me and my wayward fantasies. I have used that word before in the context of therapy and it has been misconstrued as something patronizing. However, I think it accurately captures my experience of being in groups. It isn’t the dethroning of an inflated ego but a state of mind where I find myself open to intimacy. From the first set of interactions, I was aware of the anxiety that was welling up in me. I believe it had to do with wanting to cling to the façade of being the flawless patient/student – of wanting to be composed and emotive, in equal measure. The first thing I was struck by was the simplicity of the group. There were no profound interpretations, keen observations or deep, striking insights. It was ordinary curiosity, an invitation to talk and express whatever came to mind. I was thrown off by this and spent the first couple of groups in anticipation of the glorious moment of revelation – waiting for the facilitator to put on a cape and unleash his superpowers. It never happened and it wasn’t needed. The exchange of stories and feelings became the life of the group, the mystical process that made me feel raw and overwhelmed. The anxiety persisted but I stopped trying to decipher it.

I was surprised by how emotional I felt. I felt for everyone through their stories, maybe because I saw reflections of my experience in theirs. I was angry with and for people, relieved that someone had put into words a feeling or an experience I was trying to pin down, terrified when someone reached out thinking that I would be called out on being pretentious for responding affectionately. The groups, even in their silences (perhaps more than in conversation), were rich and potent with emotion. On the last day, I found myself muted. I was still speaking but I had muffled my feelings. I had felt connected to all the people and now the circumstances demanded that we cease to exist as an entity. I think I was beginning to idealize the group again. Where else would I find a space where I would be encouraged to be vulnerable and honest about my state of feeling? Where else could I form such meaningful relationships? Where else would another person tell me how I made them feel and not leave if the feeling stirred up discomfort? Outside the periphery of the flesh and blood container? Absolutely not. I was going to cocoon myself. I remember someone voiced my anger by talking about theirs. I felt acknowledged; like I wasn’t insane for wanting this to last, for being furious that it had to end, for feeling sad that we had to disband something wonderful we had created. It was obviously a loss. I was at a loss.

I don’t know what happened in those groups that has left an impression. Maybe I don’t want to know so that it still holds some of that mysticism. Maybe I don’t want to acknowledge that it’s something ordinary, that it’s something I can have outside the periphery of the group. The thought of forming relationships that are genuine and intense is scary because the loss follows, inevitably.

Mohit Sharma
Jan 2018