Mark Kunkel, Fellow Spiritual Pilgrim

I pursued, and earned, a master’s of arts in psychology from the University of West Georgia, a middle-of-the-road state college turned university with a well-known humanistic psychology program. Although, technically, I had been employed as an addictions counselor for a few years prior to enrolling at West Georgia, I feel as though my understanding of the craft of psychotherapy really began to take root as a result of the training I received there.

One of the main players in my therapeutic formation was Mark Kunkel, who, along with the unforgettable Larry Schor, facilitated the majority of the classes which were designed specifically for those of us within the larger psychology department who intended to continue as clinical practitioners of psychotherapy post-graduation. I have tremendous gratitude for both of these men who, in their own memorable ways, impressed upon me some of the most vital lessons – lessons which continue to shape my own, developing practice to this very day.

What I have in mind as I type this blog today is a particularly poignant moment with Mark which has been seared into my heart forever – and which, I happily add, has been “paid forward” in the telling of the tale to others. I would like to tell a version of it again, here….

In one of our seminar discussions (not sure which one, anymore…perhaps the class that coincided with our practicum experience), I had opened up about some of the struggles I have experienced in attempting to integrate my religious experience with the larger realities of my life and the world around me. While I was open in this seminar about it, I had also been in class with Mark on a number of occasions and, so, he had become somewhat familiar with my quest for truth, faith, and for what is real and solid.

In this seminar Mark shared a powerful and moving poem with us, one called “The Labors of Thor” by David Wagoner. (http://inwardboundpoetry.blogspot.com/2007/03/373-labors-of-thor-david-wagoner.html) I was deeply touched by the piece, as I felt in it an affirmation of my own arduous seeking, seeking which sometimes (if not often) feels in vain and without fruit. The poem suggests, quite to the contrary, that this genuine and earnest seeking of ours, in the end, proves to be far more heroic and fruitful than we could ever imagine, both for ourselves, and also for/on others. It was clear to me that this piece had a great deal of deep meaning to Mark, as he chose to offer it as a gift, as a piece of himself, to us, his students.

At the end of the class, though, was the moment that I will never forget, and that I would like Mark to know has left an indelible impression on me. As the time came to exit the room, without a word Mark walked toward me, took the print-out of this poem, and placed it down in front of me, giving me what might be best described as a knowing look which was so powerful in its wordless potency. The whole experience produced goosebumps, and filled me with an energy, a gratitude, and a wonder that I can very much recall, even to the present moment.

Mark, if you recall that moment, I want you to know that it is moments like this one that are the truly priceless fabric of my life. I also want you to know that I have a friend, whose story appears in one of my blog posts, with whom I have shared the poem and who, in his own way, being deeply touched by it, shared it with yet another member of his family, who, in turn, had the poem etched into a beautiful piece of wood which the first friend keeps in his own home. In language with which both you and I are long familiar, the message has borne fruit and multiplied.

May you continue to savor your labors at West Georgia, and also in your own personal journey and quest, Mark. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. You have made a difference.