The Necessity of This Time: An Existential-Humanistic Reflection

By Chuck Craytor

ABSTRACT

This paper explores my existential-humanistic journey, highlighting themes of authenticity, freedom and responsibility, death and living in this world, contingency, and the balance between isolation and connectedness. Through personal narratives, reflections, and encounters, I examine the relationship between personal transformation and the broader implications for psychotherapists, facilitators, and communities. The paper aims to convey how existential themes shape our engagement with the world and others while emphasizing the urgency of this era in cultivating deeper connections and meaning. Additionally, this paper integrates insights from prominent existential-humanistic scholars, including James Bugental, Kirk Schneider, Irvin Yalom, and Viktor Frankl, to further elaborate on the significance of these existential themes in psychotherapy.

INTRODUCTION

Could there ever be a more wonderful story than your own? This question, posed by Daishonin (1999) in 1275, resonates deeply as I reflect on my journey. Life is a series of unfolding events, each interwoven with the profound themes of existence—authenticity, freedom, responsibility, death, and the unpredictable nature of life. Through these experiences, I have gained insight into the essence of psychotherapy and how existential-humanistic principles influence individual and communal growth. This paper explores my journey, the lessons I have learned, and how they contribute to the role of psychotherapists in our interconnected world.

As James Bugental (1999) and Kirk Schneider (2008) articulated, existential-humanistic therapy emphasizes deep personal engagement, presence, and the courage to face life’s uncertainties. Through self-reflection and encounters with profound existential challenges, I have sought to understand how these principles apply to my journey. This writing will expand on the philosophical underpinnings of existential-humanistic therapy and how these themes manifest in both personal and professional realms.

A World in Crisis: The Necessity of Existential Reflection

As society grapples with unprecedented globalization and systemic crises, the need for personal and collective authenticity becomes increasingly apparent. The Buddhist philosopher Daisaku Ikeda (1993) highlights this tension, asserting that individuals retreat into isolation in times of uncertainty:

“As each group seeks its separate roots and origins, society fractures along a thousand fissure lines. When neighbors distance themselves from neighbors, continue your uncompromising quest for your truer roots in the deepest regions of your life. Seek out the primordial “roots” of humankind. Then you will, without fail, discover the stately expanse of Jiyu[1] unfolding in the depths of your life (p. 54).”

Existential isolation, as discussed by Yalom (1980), is an inevitable part of the human condition, yet it is only by embracing this isolation and forging meaningful connections that we transcend despair.

Rather than withdrawing into small ideological or geographic villages, we must expand our sense of identity to embrace our interconnectedness with all life. Bugental (1999) emphasizes that true presence requires stepping beyond conditioned responses and engaging deeply with existence. The world’s fragmentation and polarization are manifestations of an existential crisis that demands authenticity and engagement. We must ask ourselves what it means to be human in an era where technology fosters connection yet paradoxically deepens our sense of alienation.

Existential-humanistic therapy challenges individuals to confront their fears, responsibilities, and the deeper questions of existence. Schneider (2008) discusses the importance of rediscovering awe, stating that reconnecting with the mysteries of life fosters deeper engagement. This concept resonates with the current state of the world, where environmental destruction, political polarization, and economic instability push individuals to retreat into survival mode. Only through courageous engagement with these crises can we cultivate an authentic sense of self.

Furthermore, the disconnection experienced by modern individuals highlights a deeper existential dilemma. Schneider (2013) argues that in contemporary society, individuals are often trapped in a polarized state, losing the ability to appreciate life’s uncertainties and complexities. This phenomenon results in either rigid ideologies or complete disengagement. The existential-humanistic approach encourages confronting these difficulties rather than avoiding them.

My journey mirrors the broader human struggle for meaning, identity, and connection. It provides a personal narrative that underscores the relevance of existential-humanistic psychotherapy in today’s interconnected yet fragmented world.

The Fear of Death: An Early Encounter with Existential Reality

My personal confrontation with death began in childhood. My mother’s grief over losing a child before my birth left an imprint on my psyche, manifesting as an acute fear of trying anything new. When carrying me, my mother feared losing another child. The persistent echoes of childhood peers, who taunted me with the phrase, “You act as if you are going to die,” reflect the depth of my existential anxiety.

My early years were shadowed by inauthenticity, a defense mechanism against the existential anxiety described by Yalom (1980), where one might avoid confronting their true self out of fear (p. 120). The trauma of seeing an adult male neighbor expose himself when I was just four years old was a pivotal moment. My mother’s unspoken concern and my father’s absence in addressing the event led me to internalize a distrust of male authority figures. This early encounter with inauthenticity—where reality was shrouded in silence and ambiguity—shaped my relational patterns for decades. This led to a life lived inauthentically, often from the safety of the back of the classroom or behind a facade of numbness. My shift towards authenticity began in the 1990s when I started confronting my deepest fears, aligning with Bugental’s (1965) view of therapy as a journey toward self-realization (p. 93).

1994 was a pivotal point in my journey to live more authentically. I was at a point where I didn’t know if I could continue in this life; I was deep into my shadow work. One day, I overheard a friend sharing about having finally met a therapist who was helping him with his PTSD. As I listened to my friend, I heard a gentle inner voice urge me to find my friend’s therapist. Not long after, I met with the same therapist who utilized an emerging therapy called Hakomi. We worked together for close to two years. Our sessions became an opportunity to share and explore the latest adventure. Over time, our sessions became meditations. I would sit in a meditative state, often with my eyes closed, and respond to questions by noticing what showed up internally. I would be suspended in space as if in a lucid dream, yet fully awake. Images and symbols would appear, and, along with my therapist, we would explore what those symbols and images meant to me. The living dreams would leave me with ideas for the week and the next adventure. I had long been interested in movement and dance but fearful of being seen. Our therapy sessions led me into folk, modern, and Contact Improvisation dance. I danced right through many of my fears, literally. At my last session with my therapist, she handed me a stack of checks I had written to her for our sessions. My therapist shared that she was getting so much out of our sessions that she didn’t feel comfortable accepting my payments. She shared that working together had helped her decide to return to her profession as a teacher. She returned the payments from our past several sessions. My therapist suggested that I was ready for group process work. Her suggestion and therapy led me to enroll in several years of group coaching and personal development programs. From 1995 through 2000, it was common to have people ask me what had happened to me, “You seem like a different person, more authentic.” The 1990s was a period of facing my fears of death, even my desire for death, and choosing to live in the world more authentically and responsibly.

Bugental (1999) emphasizes that existential therapy must unearth these buried experiences, allowing individuals to reclaim their agency. My eventual recognition (at age thirty-nine) of this pivotal childhood decision—that men in authority cannot be trusted—became a transformative moment. It was a profound confrontation with existential responsibility, as described by Schneider (2008), where I had to consciously choose whether to remain imprisoned by my past or redefine my beliefs.

Nature as Refuge: The Role of Contingency and Transcendence

My early years were marked by isolation, yet I found solace in nature. The Willamette River and the surrounding farm where I grew up offered a refuge, a place where I could engage with existence without the constraints of human relationships. This mirrors Schneider’s (2008) discussion of the transcendent dimension of existence, wherein the natural world serves as a conduit for deep existential awareness.

At age three, I recall running over a bee with my tricycle and experiencing an innate sense that life is infinite. As I peered down at the crushed body of the bee, I sensed that life was eternal. Though seemingly small, this moment was a foundational experience of existential knowing. However, lacking a relational container for such insights contributed to a profound sense of loneliness. Schneider (2013) describes such moments as potential catalysts for existential awakening, yet without validation and integration, they may lead to estrangement. Buddhism would later teach me that that innocent moment at three years old was a glimpse into the eternity of life, that there is no beginning or end, only life.

This is an essential realization for existential therapy: Moments of transcendence can become sources of both isolation and connection. When an individual experiences an awakening without a communal framework for interpretation, it can lead to detachment. However, if properly integrated, these moments provide a source of meaning and resilience. Therapists working within an existential framework try to guide individuals in honoring and making sense of these experiences.

Contingency: The Unpredictability of Life

In reflecting on my life before the 1990s, I was so numb that anxiety was hidden. Someone once shared with me that I was like a robot then. Letting others dictate my life seemed safe. However, my life took a transformative turn when I began interviewing successful leaders in the early 1990s. I started to let curiosity lead me. These conversations led me to important insights about leadership, purpose, and self-worth. Many of those interviews were published. Occasionally, I would meet a business leader who had heard about my interviews. It wasn’t uncommon to hear, “Why didn’t you come and talk with me? You could have helped me resolve an issue in my heart.” However, it wasn’t until a mentor pointed out my undervaluation of my own work that I realized how much I had dismissed my contributions. Those interviews were making a difference in the lives of those I interviewed!

Frankl (1984) describes contingency as the unpredictable elements of existence that force individuals to confront uncertainty. Bugental (1965) argues that fully embracing these unpredictable aspects allows for more authentic engagement with life. Similarly, Ikeda (1993) stresses that obstacles are necessary for growth, stating, “Without opposition, life loses its meaning” (p. 54). Recognizing the value of my work marked a pivotal shift from seeking external validation to embracing my role as a contributor to human development.

Those interviews, conducted from a space of authentic curiosity, led to my work as a trainer, coach, and facilitator from the 1990s until 2008 and laid the groundwork for my work today.

During this period of conducting interviews, I also served as the leader of my Buddhist community in southern Oregon. I served in that position from 1990 through 1995. In accepting leadership in my Buddhist community, I was at a complete loss for what to do. I visited practitioners throughout the southern part of Oregon. I interviewed and listened to other practitioners to see if I could figure out what to do. Years later, I often heard how helpful my visits were from people I had visited. I didn’t get it then, but looking back, I saw that I was conducting interviews with fellow practitioners, and the interviews positively impacted their lives.

For years, conducting interviews and visiting Buddhist practitioners required a substantial investment of time working without payment. For several years, I devoted more time to interviewing, researching, and visiting people than I did working for payment. I recall telling myself in 1995 that I was going to Craytor University; however, there wouldn’t be a degree.

Kirk Schneider (2008) describes existential-humanistic therapy as embracing the “awe” of life—the capacity to be present with the unknown. My own experience of unpredictability led me to cultivate trust in the unfolding of life. It would also lead me to face the themes of freedom and responsibility.

Freedom and Responsibility

Life’s unpredictability is both daunting and liberating. Unexpected turns, financial struggles, uncertainty about housing and career stability, and the paradox of freedom and responsibility marked my journey from student to therapist.

The theme of freedom intertwined with responsibility became stark when I faced potential homelessness in early 2013. This period was a living testament to Frankl’s (1984) teachings on the freedom to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances (p. 140).

I completed a graduate program in Clinical Mental Health in December 2012. I started searching for work in the fall of 2012, fully confident that I would be working for an agency. Starting a private counseling practice seemed natural while searching for work. However, finding a job with an agency was not turning out as I had expected. I sold my car to cut expenses and rode my bike daily. For the next four to five months, I lived in temporary housing, not knowing from week to week where I would live. During that period, I lived in five different homes. All this time, I was working seven days a week in establishing a psychotherapy practice, along with working as a volunteer therapist and working in two group homes with adults with developmental disabilities.

I recall a friend and colleague visiting me then and remarking, “Chuck, I don’t know how you do this. You don’t have a home of your own or even your own office. I couldn’t do it!” I replied, “No, this is a great opportunity to demonstrate the work I have been trained in. If I can’t demonstrate this work in my life, who am I to be encouraging others that they can?”

Selling my car, accepting the possibility of living at the Mission (homeless shelter), and eventually finding temporary housing through community support were acts of choosing to engage with life on my terms, not as a victim of circumstance. This experience has since shaped my therapeutic practice, where I encourage clients to see their freedom in removing external constraints and taking responsibility for life’s direction.

The paradox of freedom and responsibility is at the core of existential philosophy. Sartre (1956) emphasizes that freedom is absolute in choosing our attitude towards a given situation, yet it comes with the weight of responsibility. My journey into professional life was marked by a profound struggle with these themes. Before becoming a licensed therapist, I found meaning in conducting interviews with leaders, business professionals, and community figures. Initially, I believed these interviews were solely for my personal growth, but I soon realized their impact on those I interviewed.

Irvin Yalom (1980) highlights that one of the core existential givens is the burden of freedom—the recognition that we are the authors of our own lives. With that comes the anxiety of making the right choices. My reluctance to fully embrace my path stemmed from self-doubt, but as I continued, I learned that true freedom lies in taking responsibility for one’s unique contributions to the world.

Isolation and Connectedness

One of the paradoxes of human existence is the simultaneous need for solitude and connection. Growing up, I found solace in nature, yet I often felt isolated due to my philosophical inquiries and unconventional views on life. This theme persisted into adulthood, where my leadership roles in Buddhism and psychotherapy frequently positioned me as an observer rather than a participant in communal experiences.

Bugental (1999) emphasized that deep presence in therapy helps bridge the gap between isolation and connection. Through meaningful dialogue, I realized that genuine connection arises not from having answers but from engaging in deep, authentic conversations. Whether in my leadership role within my Buddhist community or my work as a psychotherapist, the power of listening and holding space for another’s story is where connection is forged.

Therapeutic Insights from Personal Challenges

Before formal training, my approach was intuitive, driven by a curiosity about human success and resilience. This period in the early 1990s, where I interviewed various community leaders, was not just about gathering insights but was also a form of mutual therapy. The feedback from those interviews, where interviewees often thanked me for the clarity it brought to their own lives, was an early sign of the therapeutic potential in genuine, curious engagement, echoing Frankl’s (1984) belief in finding meaning through relationships.

My housing crisis in the 2010s was a practical application of existential-humanistic therapy. Choosing to face this uncertainty with courage and faith in life’s process mirrored May’s (1983) concept of courage to create (p. 17). This period not only solidified my therapeutic philosophy but also taught me the value of embodying the principles I teach. It was a lesson in authenticity, responsibility, and the power of community support.

Conclusion

The urgency of this time calls for reevaluating how we engage with life’s fundamental themes. My journey has been one of confronting fear, embracing responsibility, and finding meaning in unpredictability. Through these experiences, I have come to understand that psychotherapy is not merely about symptom reduction but about guiding individuals toward a deeper engagement with their existence.

As Ikeda (1993) suggests, society fractures when individuals retreat into isolated identities. The answer lies in expanding our sense of self within our interconnectedness with others. It is within this space that transformation occurs, both personally and collectively.

As I progress on this journey, I cherish the words of Nichiren Daishonin (1999), originally penned in 1275: “Could there ever be a more wonderful story (in all future time) than your own?” By acknowledging the distinctive worth of my own tale, I reinforce the existential notion that every life is a developing story, filled with significance and potential.

References

Bugental, J. F. T. (1999). Psychotherapy isn’t what you think. Zeig, Tucker & Theisen.

Bugental, J. F. T. (1965). The search for authenticity. Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.

Daishonin, N. (1999). The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin: Letter to the Brothers (written in 1275), Vol. 1. Soka Gakkai, pp. 493-502.

Frankl, V.E. (1984). Man’s Search for Meaning. Pocket Books.

Ikeda, D. (1993, March). The sun of Jiyu over a new land. Seikyo Times, pp. 54-55

May, R. (1983). The Discovery of Being. W. W. Norton & Company.

Sartre, J. P. (1956). Being and nothingness. Philosophical Library.

Schneider, K. J. (2008). Existential-integrative psychotherapy: Guideposts to the core of practice. Routledge.

Schneider, K. J. (2013). The polarized mind: Why it’s killing us and what we can do about it. University Professors Press.

Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy. Kindle Edition.

[1] No English translation exists Jiyu. One aspect of Jiyu is the ability to transcend differences of all kinds.