But perhaps distinction is artificial. Perhaps mind is simply way we experience our brains. Endowed with gift (or curse) of introspection, we experience a duality, a split, constantly being both observer and observed. Moreover, talk therapy involves TALKING - which is transfer of energy from one brain to another through air. This is directed, specifically formed energy, intended to trigger certain circuits in recipient brain. It should come as no surprise if it were to be discovered that talk therapy has clear physiological effects upon brain of patient (blood volume, electrical activity, discharge and absorption of hormones, etc.).

All this would be doubly true if mind was, indeed, only an emergent phenomenon of complex brain - two sides of same coin.

Psychological theories of mind are metaphors of mind. They are fables and myths, narratives, stories, hypotheses, conjunctures. They play (exceedingly) important roles in psychotherapeutic setting – but not in laboratory. Their form is artistic, not rigorous, not testable, less structured than theories in natural sciences. The language used is polyvalent, rich, effusive, and fuzzy – in short, metaphorical. They are suffused with value judgements, preferences, fears, post facto and ad hoc constructions. None of this has methodological, systematic, analytic and predictive merits.

Still, theories in psychology are powerful instruments, admirable constructs of mind. As such, they are bound to satisfy some needs. Their very existence proves it.

The attainment of peace of mind is a need, which was neglected by Maslow in his famous rendition. People will sacrifice material wealth and welfare, will forgo temptations, will ignore opportunities, and will put their lives in danger – just to reach this bliss of wholeness and completeness. There is, in other words, a preference of inner equilibrium over homeostasis. It is fulfilment of this overriding need that psychological theories set out to cater to. In this, they are no different than other collective narratives (myths, for instance).

In some respects, though, there are striking differences:

Psychology is desperately trying to link up to reality and to scientific discipline by employing observation and measurement and by organizing results and presenting them using language of mathematics. This does not atone for its primordial sin: that its subject matter is ethereal and inaccessible. Still, it lends an air of credibility and rigorousness to it.

The second difference is that while historical narratives are "blanket" narratives – psychology is "tailored", "customized". A unique narrative is invented for every listener (patient, client) and he is incorporated in it as main hero (or anti-hero). This flexible "production line" seems to be result of an age of increasing individualism. True, "language units" (large chunks of denotates and connotates) are one and same for every "user". In psychoanalysis, therapist is likely to always employ tripartite structure (Id, Ego, Superego). But these are language elements and need not be confused with plots. Each client, each person, and his own, unique, irreplicable, plot.

(continued)

Sam Vaknin is the author of Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited and After the Rain - How the West Lost the East. He is a columnist for Central Europe Review, United Press International (UPI) and eBookWeb and the editor of mental health and Central East Europe categories in The Open Directory, Suite101 and searcheurope.com.

Visit Sam's Web site at http://samvak.tripod.com

As opposed to popular opinion, trust must be put to test, lest it goes stale and staid. We are all somewhat paranoid. The world around us is so complex, so inexplicable, so overwhelming – that we find refuge in invention of superior forces. Some forces are benign (God) – some arbitrarily conspiratorial in nature. There must be an explanation, we feel, to all these amazing coincidences, to our existence, to events around us.

This tendency to introduce external powers and ulterior motives into our reality permeates human relations, as well. We gradually grow suspicious, inadvertently hunt for clues of infidelity or worse, masochistically relieved, even happy when we find some.

The more often we successfully test trust we had established, stronger our pattern-prone brain embraces it. Constantly in a precarious balance, our brain needs and devours reinforcements. Such testing should not be explicit but circumstantial.

Your husband could easily have had a mistress or your partner could easily have stolen your money – and, behold, they haven't. They passed test. They resisted temptation offered to them by circumtance.

Trust is based on ability to predict future. It is not so much act of betrayal that we react to – as it is feeling that very foundations of our world are crumbling, that it is no longer safe because it is no longer predictable. We are in throes of death of one theory – and birth of another, as yet untested.

Here is another important lesson: whatever act of betrayal (with exception of grave criminal corporeal acts) – it is frequently limited, confined, and negligible. Naturally, we tend to exaggerate importance of event. This serves a double purpose: indirectly it aggrandises us. If we are "worthy" of such an unprecedented, unheard of, major betrayal – we must be worthwhile and unique. The magnitude of betrayal reflects on us and re-establishes fragile balance of powers between us and universe.

The second purpose of exaggerating act of perfidy is simply to gain sympathy and empathy – mainly from ourselves, but also from others. Catastrophes are a dozen a dime and in today's world it is difficult to provoke anyone to regard your personal disaster as anything exceptional.

Amplifying event has, therefore, some very utilitarian purposes. But, finally, emotional lie poisons mental circulation of liar. Putting event in perspective goes a long way towards commencement of a healing process. No betrayal stamps world irreversibly or eliminates other possibilities, opportunities, chances and people. Time goes by, people meet and part, lovers quarrel and make love, dear ones live and die. It is very essence of time that it reduces us all to finest dust. Our only weapon – however crude and naive – against this unstoppable process is to trust each other.

Sam Vaknin is the author of Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited and After the Rain - How the West Lost the East. He is a columnist for Central Europe Review, United Press International (UPI) and eBookWeb and the editor of mental health and Central East Europe categories in The Open Directory, Suite101 and searcheurope.com.

Visit Sam's Web site at http://samvak.tripod.com