More on "not knowing"

I have been slowly making my way through Mindful Therapy: A Guide for Therapists and Helping Professionals by Thomas Bien. I have mixed feelings about the book, but every so often I come upon some passages that seem quite relevant to me. This is one of them:

An attitude of not knowing is, I believe, extremely valuable for the mindful therapist, as it is in Buddhist practice. When you think you know, you stop being open. Not knowing helps us remain open to the patient before us, seeing this person as a unique individual in a unique situation rather than another 'case' of depression, or anxiety, or marital difficulties. Not knowing, while the opposite attitude from what we learned in our education, is our best friend in the therapy room. The wise therapist respects not knowing, is comfortable with it, and even cultivates it. We cannot understand if we think we already know. And to know you don't know, taught Confucius, is the beginning of knowing. (p. 138)

I write a lot about uncertainty. It seems an integral part of my work. I've also written about the state of "I don't know" and about getting lost. 

I suppose it all boils down to different ways of acknowledging, with some humility, that we music therapists often don't know, in a session, what's best, what's going on, and how to proceed. But we are present, and we trust the process and the music.

What autism "awareness" really requires

The thing is this: if we as music therapists are going to be of any use to the folks we serve who are autistic, then our level of awareness must include (from the beginning) paying attention to what autistic people have to say. 

Yes? 

Of course, yes!

Here, for example, is what Asperger Square 8 (aka Bev) has to say:

Asperger Square 8: Autism Awareness!!!

This piano's got some kind of vibe!

At long last I was able to get LR to the Music Room! 

From the minute I started working with her I knew she'd love it. The difficulty, though, was in getting her to leave the cottage with me. But today the weather was gorgeous (about time!), and I know she recognizes me now, so she feels a little safer getting out the door with me. 

After some fidgeting (on her part) and waiting (on my part), she took my hand and pulled me to the closet to get her a coat. I explained to her that it wasn't that cold, and she agreed to put on the sweatshirt (a puffy blue thing) I'd fished out of her room for her. 

We ran into T on the way out the door (T's the food service worker, but she also sometimes pitches in when they're short on direct support staff), and she offered to walk over to the Music Room with us.  

Yes. Please do join us.

We did it! We got there, and LR went straight to the piano (it's a Clavinova) and started to play. 

LR loves (no, really LOVES) vibrations. She totally digs the guitar, and she'll try to tap absolutely anything to find out if it has any sort of resonance. (I've always wondered whether she likes the vibrations that come out of people. You know how we have our own resonant qualities. It remains to be discovered.) 

I took her on a quick tour of the room. She tried out the metallophone (the low notes are particularly bong-y when tapped), the tubano, the bongos, and the doumbek. 

But she really liked the piano. And the guitar. She tried playing both at once. It was very creative, I must say. She assembled herself so she had her right hand on the piano, and her left hand was tapping the guitar. 

She used a pretty consistent rhythm in the clusters she was playing on the piano. But, being LR, she was largely focused on how it sounded with her ear glued to the piano.

And I was largely superfluous to her experience. 

Well, at least we got through this major step.