I must have known that Pete Seeger would not live forever. But he was around for me from the beginning, a fixture in my life, a kind of presence always there; a part of me seems to have felt he would always be there. His passing has left me with feelings of sadness, and also feelings of the deepest gratitude for what he added to my life and to the world. When I heard about his death last month, it finally struck me that he really was one of my great heroes.

My parents were a just a little old for the burgeoning folk music movement of the very early 1960's, but my mother particularly loved music and singing, and so I was fortunate to be surrounded by music from the beginning of my life: great Broadway musicals, classical music, and American folk music - Pete Seeger, of course, and the Weavers; Peter, Paul and Mary; Joan Baez; Richie Havens; Arlo Guthrie, and others. Some of my mother's friends played guitar and sang songs of the 50's and early 60's folk revival, and when I was 14 years old, I bought myself a guitar with money I earned on my paper route. The first book I found to learn from was Pete Seeger's "50 American Folk Ballads." I believe I have it still, more than 40 years later. Of course, things changed fast, Bob Dylan came along, also Joni Mitchell, Neil Young - and the Beatles. Folk music was pretty quickly eclipsed in my life by the explosion of all varieties of rock and roll in the Sixties and Seventies. My acoustic guitar didn't interest me much after high school, and I never made the transition to electric.

But Pete Seeger was always there, in the background. When my kids were little we listened to folk songs, and I rediscovered my love of Seeger's voice, crowing and full of joy, playfulness, and affection. We sang together with him, "Let's go ridin' in the car, car!" - practically an anthem of childhood. His recording of the story/song "Abiyoyo" was one of my kid's favorites, and mine too; I don't know how many nights my children and I would fall asleep to the soothing lullaby ending of the story (after the great scary excitement of the little boy and his father, cleverly dispatching the awful giant with a ukulele and a magic wand!).

I believe that underlying both the tradition of psychoanalysis, and the American folk music tradition, is the great transforming force of a democratic impulse. Folk songs have told stories, both of real individual people, and groups of people who have had shared experience. Slaves, sailors, lovers, immigrants, laborers, soldiers, mothers, all found their experiences mirrored in songs - reflecting both our deep and universal need for recognition, and our primordial relationship to music. But there was something more in the American folk movement, maybe starting with Woody Guthrie: a self-conscious celebration of ordinary people and their lives and experiences; a belief in the value of the individual and also the value of our relationship to a larger collective; and the importance of equality, fairness, and respect for the dignity all human beings. The great transformative revolutionary ideals of Democracy, appearing first in the 17^th and 18th centuries, and remaining sadly far from complete, are expressed in our appreciation of the dialectics of difference and sameness, separateness and connectedness, and in the idea that every person's story is important and worthy of being told; and that we are enriched equally by the telling and the hearing.

In psychoanalytic work we strive to make room for the individual's experience, to mirror it, hold it, and allow for its formulation and expression. We believe in the great importance of human feeling, and understand the role emotional life plays in the unfolding of a particular individual story and in our collective story. It seems to me that it is a fact of our evolutionary history, that music and feeling have always gone hand-in-hand.

I understand that the values that Pete Seeger stood for and embodied in all he did in his lifetime - and his songs - are part of my story, woven into my own values, and a part of how I came to my calling. We, too, celebrate what it is to be human; we bear witness to suffering and loss; we help those we work with to find and tell their own stories; to discover their own voices; to find truth, beauty and meaning in their lives; and to understand their place in a history that is both personal and also shared.

Seth

By Janet S. Hoffer, MSW, LCSW

I first became intrigued by the mysterious and disturbing world of self harm (cutting, tattooing, piercing, skin picking) when a patient I was treating began to pick at her skin during our sessions.  The behavior, we noticed, occurred each time we discussed her relationship with her father, particularly her anger towards him.  I began to understand that the feelings she could not put into words were being expressed through her body.   I turned to the literature to make sense of this and found answers in brain research, attachment theory, as well as object relations theory.

We know from brain research that the infant and caregiver enter into a repetitive pattern with one another during the bonding process.  When bonding goes well, the cycle of affect arousal, attunement and regulation of the affect allows for the development of a secure attachment.  However, when the child enters the cycle with a caretaker who is inflicting emotional and/or physical pain or is neglectful, the result is a disorganized attachment style.  Research has also shown that the interaction between parent and infant will determine the way in which the child begins to adapt to their caretaker. The child is extraordinarily dependent and finds ingenious ways to adapt and cling to the much needed attachment figure, even when the caretaker is abusive.   

Dissociation is an invaluable survival tool in this process.  Contemporary thinkers define dissociation as a protective mechanism enlisted to separate affect from cognition.  When the child needs to compartmentalize facets of their traumatic experience while at the same time hold on to the attachment figure, dissociation makes it possible. (Howell, 2005)  Tracing this idea back historically, we find that W.D. Fairbairn is an original thinker in this arena.  He posited that the abused/neglected child needs to split off a representation of the parent as good, while at the same time internalizing the split off bad representation known as "identification with the aggressor."   Fairbairn declared: "It is better to be a sinner in a world ruled by God than to live in a world ruled by the Devil."  Faced with no choice, the child takes in the badness, thereby keeping the parent as good. The bleak alternative would be to view the parent as bad thereby living in a world ruled by the Devil.  This view offers no security for the delicate defense mechanisms of the young child.

Self harm behaviors are born from the processes of dissociation and splitting.  Every act of self harm can be thought to include two (or more) self states.  We can think of one self state being the part of the self inflicting the abuse and a second self state as the one being abused.  Under the pressure of rageful feelings toward the needed parents, a psychological razor takes a clean swipe to the body, thereby splitting the self into prey and predator, abuser and abused. The "inner predator" (Farber, 2008) that does the cutting is the split off identification with the aggressor. At the same time, affects are separated from cognition thereby preserving the attachment to the abusive or neglectful, but still loved parent. 

Self harm behavior is the expression of disordered efforts to self regulate in an insecure attachment.  The range of self harm can go from the very concrete to the more symbolic areas of dysregulated eating and addictions.  We find self harm in so many patients and in so many different ways when part of the self has been barricaded off.  We do not have to look very far to discover that an attuned adult was not present to offer explanations and consolation as trauma unfolded. The defenses I have described provided the means of coping with the projections from the abusive/neglectful caretaker.  Self harm behavior also masks the reenactment of the early trauma being perpetrated on the body. 

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I arrive at Giorgio's and, from the lobby level, look down at a sea of people-with hardly a bit of floor space visible.  There is also a joyful noise that is welcoming.  Somehow the challenge of body contact and a little jostling seems worth the experience of camaraderie and warmth on a cold winter night.

A place at a table is being held for me - my anxiety level drops.  I feel fortunate to join a group of people who call CPPNJ our common affiliation.

There is a newly minted analyst of Caribbean origin.  There is another woman seasoned in the rigors of candidacy.  There are two brand new candidates who will begin their coursework next week and who already seem to feel safe enough in this gathering of analysts at various stages of their careers. Everyone appears quite comfortable just being together in a "harmonious mix-up" of human beings.  There is a retired analyst at ease joining those who are still actively practicing our trade.  There is a faculty member transplanted from another analytic home and who is well assimilated into CPPNJ.  And, besides myself, there is an younger analyst coming into her own as an active member of the community involved in ongoing committee work. 

My table is one of about ten-all with participants diverse in unique ways and including a number of spouses of analysts, all engaged in the energized conversations that fill the room.  A spiral staircase provides a path to a loft where more people are sharing the evening together.  I am curious about where it goes but content to remain where I am.

A room full of shared stories... these are just my impressions.  No doubt those of you who attended can tell so may more.

It was an evening that celebrated the holiday season and warmed us all in fellowship.  Happy New Year!

Please note: If you have an announcement of either a paper you've recently published or a presentation you've given, let us know. Send Cathy Van Voorhees an email at cppnj@aol.com and we will be happy to get the word out.