Our most cherished beliefs
and deeply held convictions are the stories we tell ourselves that shape our
world. In Metaphoria, Rubin Battino, M.S., leads the reader to believe
that metaphors, the time-honored tradition of storytelling for healing, is so
complex an art and our patients so fragile, that only precise and elaborately
crafted psychotherapeutic metaphors may be used to heal the wounded spirit.
Battino is so precise, in fact, that the causal reader will quickly be sucked
into a quagmire of options for healing with directives for pacing, anchoring,
use of themes, subthemes, and meta models of language accompanied by a litany
of therapeutic instructions that will swamp any serious therapist with
uncertainly about their ability to work in this milieu. The author demonstrates
how to shape stories for culture, race, problem, background, style, size and
soon, we surmise, blood type. In this book, our world is quickly shaped into
Battino’s Bog (a metaphoric comparison he might appreciate, albeit
defensively).

 I think most clients are more
resilient than portrayed in Metaphoria, and that metaphoric-based
therapies are much less complex then presented. Rubin Battino must know this
too, because his own personal observations and comments are absolutely
brilliant. It occurred to me, reading his assessments on other’s work and how
to apply it, that the author simply didn’t want to leave any stone unturned or
be accused of any type of simplicity in his presentation. The trouble is, using
symbolic therapies in healing is simple. It’s only the therapists who
complicate it.

 In Chapter One after a brief
history, Battino describes the difference between disease and illness and how
that relates to patients healing themselves. It would make a great paper on its
own. Chapter Two delves into the language for metaphor. The author’s use of
language and directions for the use of language are the book’s strong points.
"The meaning of any communication is the response that you get," he
writes. We learn that it is not what you intend to say or teach that matters,
but what is understood.

 It is in Chapter Three and
Four, regarding the delivery of the metaphor and the basic metaphor,
where the book begins to place an undue burden on the therapist. Here, all the
work is taken away from the client and placed squarely on the
"expert." "–that is, the stories are created and told by the
therapist to the client with specific purposes in mind. In that sense, these
are therapist-generated rather than client-generated." Since the book is
written for the therapist and not the layman, I suppose it is prudent to give
the therapist work to do, but this approach is one that empowers the therapist
and not the client. 

 The entire book then recites
the work of others and Rubin suggests improvements for their work.
Surprisingly, his suggestions on specific metaphoric stories seem to take the
simple work of others and catapult them into works of substance. For example,
in his commentaries about the Berman and Browns’ "The Book of Life"
guided journey, Battino notes that it is not necessary to close your eyes for
these exercises. This is simplistic but something not many professionals know.
He also comments on specific, unnecessary or even scary suggestions, "I am
not sure I would want to ‘sink backward through time’ or ‘pass through the
gateway of reality.’" He is not afraid to build on the work of others
(rather than cleverly disguising the work as his own), and he is not afraid to
tout his own skills because Battino believes in himself. It is a non-humble and
refreshing approach.

 The reader will find numerous
metaphors they can use and a myriad of instructions they can’t. The book
contains some not-to-be-missed segments such as the Navajo Talking Circles and
a treatise on Viktor Frankl. It also contains some absolutely enchanting
metaphors like the one used with children’s fears, The Slimy Green Monster,
wherein the child’s mother tells the slimly green monster that she’s going tell
his mommy on him. What a charming way to neutralize a child’s fear! Yet
that story is preceded by an explanation on multiple embedded metaphors that
will cause the struggling reader to sink rapidly in the quicksand of
micro-metaphor-managing..

 I would suggest that readers,
in order to stay in their comfort zone, read only the summaries at the end of
the chapters and the metaphors themselves. But then the reader would miss gems
like the quote on page 152, "{Erickson} almost single-handedly moved the
field away from its obsession with ‘why’ to focus on the pragmatism of
‘how.’" The author explains, on the next page, that this shift in thinking
may be the "beginnings of the ‘third wave’ of doing therapy€”the first was
psychoanalysis, the second was the problem-focused therapies like Gestalt
therapy, NLP, behavioral therapy, cognitive etc" and the third being
"personal narratives as the vehicle for change."

Personal narratives, utilizing
symbolic therapies through metaphor, are
an incredible third wave of doing therapy. But after all, it is only a new use
of a primal path to healing, the art of storytelling. I think the author
over-intellectualizes the process, micro-manages the metaphors, and at the same
time offers insights I would not be without. Despite the limitations, the
book’s strengths insure that I will keep Battino’s work in my reference library
for many years to come.

©
2004 Shelly Marshall

Shelly Marshall, B.S., CSAC is an Adolescent Chemical
Dependency Specialist and Researcher. You can visit her site at
www.day-by-day.org

Categories: Psychotherapy