It’s Not About Hippies

Although she never saw any of them nor heard their side of the sessions, through the home office door my wife would sometimes catch snippets of me speaking as I gave feedback and illustrated concepts for my patients. She was the one who heard and reflected back to me that I seemed to be returning to some of the same fundamental themes over and over again. She told me I ought to do a podcast.

I resisted her suggestion for several years. I had always hated the sound of my own voice. I had painful memories of being teased about it as a kid. I had always struggled with having confidence in myself and my own knowledge. She patiently sent me videos and articles about podcasting, including one about how the library in Mesa County was offering free podcasting classes and access to their modern studio. Her quiet persistence eventually convinced me.

I decided to run a life experiment of my own.

I decided to start a podcast.

My intention in starting the Peace, Love, & Psychology podcast was to provide access to psychological principles to people who may not actually go to therapy but might want to improve their own lives. I also saw it as a resource for people who might be in therapy with me or other therapists and who wanted to explore the ideas behind what goes on in the therapy room at a deeper level, not constrained by the necessary time limits of each session.

The format for the podcast was simple and straightforward. I would describe a theme that commonly arises in therapy and provide some context about why people often struggle in that particular area. I would then discuss the mechanisms behind these issues, along the way educating listeners about the physiological and psychological processes underlying their experience. Each episode would conclude by focusing on a specific practice or set of exercises the listener could try in their own life and providing some guidance as to how to interpret their results and make improvements.

If a topic I had covered on the show came up in session with a patient, I might recommend an episode to them as an additional resource. I also printed the podcast logo and a QR code directed to a link for the show on the back of my business cards. As I attended community events around Grand Junction, Colorado, the city where my practice is located, I would hand out my card. Occasionally, someone would ask about the podcast. When any new patients are referred to my practice, I include my business card along with the usual intake paperwork.

Not long ago, a man was referred to me in order for me to evaluate him in advance of an orthopedic surgical procedure. Like many of my neighbors here on the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains, he was a retired rancher, a sun-weathered, work-shirt-wearing cowboy, and a military veteran to boot. I handed him my business card, and he turned it over. Seeing the logo and QR code on the back, his face twisted into undisguised disgust.

“What is this?” he scoffed. “Some show about hippies?”

I was momentarily flustered. In naming the show, I had reflected on the reasons most people engage in psychotherapy in the first place. Sure, they all want their symptoms to remit, but that desire is just a signpost on the way to their actual goals. People really come to therapy in order to experience more peace in their lives and more meaningful, loving connection in their relationships. I also thought the name was kind of catchy. It had never occurred to me that, to some folks of a particular generation, the name of the podcast might evoke something altogether different.

Recovering, I gave the elderly gentleman my elevator pitch, “It’s a podcast about psychological principles people can apply in their lives to have better mental health.”

Holding the card at arm’s length, perhaps just in case he might accidentally catch the unwanted scent of patchouli wafting off of it, he unceremoniously shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m not watching any show about hippies,” he said.

I sighed. “It’s not about hippies.”