"This is an example of what I call "pure" writing, which occurs when there is no possibility of its becoming a screenplay. Pure writing is the most rewarding of all, because it is constantly accompanied by a voice that repeats, "Why am I writing this?"

-- Steve Martin, June 24, 1996, The New Yorker --

As a lifelong writer, I find Steve Martin's quip (actually one small part of a much greater comedic piece titled "Writing is Easy!") resoundingly true. I am a person who has had what I would call a "full" life, although I have not always made the best use of it. Whether it's been skydiving, swimming in the Mississippi or working with at-risk youth, I have always had a scribe toiling away in the back of my mind, someone there quietly insisting "write it down... write it down..." It is my mother's voice, and interestingly I chose to ignore that voice for many years. I was driven by fear far away from my start as a playwright to the conservative bosom of the US Navy and, without warning, the insatiable appetite of diabetes.

Psychology is... like life itself, ever-changing. I initially became interested in psychology twenty years ago when I was introduced to the work of Carl Jung in a freshman course on archetypes and human relationships. As a novice writer, Carl Jung was a heavy influence, particularly with regard to writing for the stage. Aristotle may have given us "Poetics," but Jung gave us the 'anima' and the 'animus'. In the first play I wrote, I split the protagonist into four separate roles - each role a different part of the protagonist's psyche.

It is through psychology that I come conceptually closer to understanding my family - past, present, all probable future. As I became estranged from my father's family almost immediately upon his death, I have lived much of my life burdened by fears - of being revealed, of being found - and haunted in turns by fierce memory and gaping holes - where do I come from? where do I belong? are you sure we're from the same gene pool???

My mother's family history is only slightly better. At least she was in touch with and quite loved by her father's family, but she too was haunted by her father's death when she was quite young. In her case, though, she had quarreled with him and left his home. The next day he was found dead by overdose. His father had killed himself as well. He had a viral infection but thought the doctor was lying to him, as he'd helped him lie to his wife about having cancer. "No," they told her. "You just have a bad case of pneumonia. You'll be fine."

The great British philosopher Alfred North Whitehead once commented that all philosophy is but a footnote to Plato. What that has to do with this I have no idea, but it's a stream of consciousness thing so I'll go with it. All ideas of truth are just that - mental images - temporary holdings in an ever-changing perceptual world. I think my point is that nothing is really new, and that everything is constantly in flux.

Change is challenging. Philosophically, I suppose, if we don't believe in Evolution then we wouldn't believe in change. But, then, we'd all live in tiny little boxes and leave the lights on. Or in caves. With great big fires. And Heavy sticks. Some might argue that I do live in a tiny little box (cottage), with lights (fire), and ask if this is really so different? I think that's a matter of perception, and as I believe in Evolution I cannot help but think my cottage is better than some cold smelly cave.

What psychology helps me see is that if we don't change right along with ... time, space, society... then the whole world is apt to swallow us up rather than take us with it. That's what psychology helps make clear - how to adapt without losing ourselves in mental anguish; how to simply be ourselves while still bending with the tide. It's frightening, learning how to swim; but it's better than merely treading water.