Derecho tributario desde el ámbito constitucional

The question could be asked, W h a t does an effective metaphor do that makes it therapeutic? Possibly its most important function is to create what Rossi ( 1 9 7 2 / 1 9 8 5 ) termed a "shared phenomenological reality" in which the world created by the therapist's metaphor is experienced by the child. This creates a three-way empathic relationship between child, therapist, and story which then makes it possible for the child to develop a sense of identification with the characters and events portrayed. It is this sense of identification thar contains the transformational power of rhe meraphor (Gordon, 1978). The child must create a bridge of personal connection between himself and the events of the story if he is to bring parts of the story back into his "real" life. In the effective therapeutic metaphor, this is facilitated by representing the child's problem accurately enough so that he no longer feels alone, yet indirectly enough so that he does not feel embarrassed, ashamed, or resistant.

Once identification is established between the child and the story, the child's sense of isolation about his own problem ("Nobody has my problem") is replaced with a sense of shared experience ("They had a problem like mine!"). Again, however, the connection between the metaphorical problem and the child's problem remains "not quite" conscious. Indeed this is the fine delicacy of a therapeutic metaphor: The story "hits home" but in a curiously removed way; it focuses on the problem but in a quietly diffused way; and it activates specific abilities and resources, but in a nonthreatening, generalized way. The fatherless child crying through the farewell scene of E.T. may never consciously think, "This is just like when Daddy went away." Yet on some level the sense of love and ultimate well-being suggested by the movie's ending may help the child experience his loss in a new and more healing way—and without his ever being aware of it.

How does one go about creating the shared phenomenological reality by which rhe therapeutic metaphor achieves its effect? If we look at the classic fairy tales, we can discern elements or ingredients of sto- rywriting that are common to many of them. In one way or another, most classic fairy tales:

(1) Establish an overall theme of metaphorical conflict in relation to the protagonist;

66 THERAPEUTIC METAPHORS FOR CHILDREN (2) Personify unconscious processes in the fotm of heroes or helpers (representing the protagonist's abilities and resources), and villains or obstructions (representing the protagonist's fears and negative beliefs); (3) Personify parallel learning situations in which the protagonist was successful;

(4) Present a metaphorical crisis within a context of inevitable resolution, by which the protagonist overcomes or resolves his problem; (5) Develop a new sense of identification for the protagonist as a result of his victorious "hero's journey";

(6) Culminate with a celebration in which the protagonist's special worth is acknowledged.

THE UGLY DUCKLING AS THERAPEUTIC METAPHOR

Let's take a well-known example. In the fairy tale of The Ugly

Duckling, a shared phenomenological world is created out of the common

experience of feeling unwanted, unattractive, and different. Whether child or adult, the fairy tale displaces our sense of isolation in those negative feelings by drawing us into the- poignancy of the Ugly Duckling's pain and rejection. We feel a sense of shared experience as we go with the little duck through his many travails, and the iden-

tification that arises out of this shared experience allows us to fully

participate in the little cluck's transformation into the beautiful swan. All of this is brought abour in The Ugly Duckling* by Hans Christian Andersen's (unknowing?) use of our six classic ingredients. To begin with, the metaphorical conflict is depicted with the birth of the funny looking duckling. From its first moments out of the egg, the newborn duck looks different—and his brothers and sisters, and all the other barnyard companions, are quick and cruel to aa upon this difference: The poor duckling, who was the last out of the egg and looked so ugly, got pecked and jostled and teased by ducks and hens alike. "The great hawk!" they all ducked. . . . The poor duckling didn't know where to turn; he was terribly upset over being so ugly and the laughingstock of the whole barnyard.

* All quotations from Tie Ugly Duckling are taken &om the version translated by R. P. Keigwin and published by Charles Soibners Sons (New York, 1965). (Pages were not numbered.)

INGREDIENTS OF STORYWRITING 61 Only his mother sees his good points. She acknowledges his potential for improvement and enumerates his unconscious processes in die form of abilities and resources:

Look how beautifully he uses his legs and how straight he holds himself. . . . He's not pretty, but he's so good tempered and he can swim just as well as the othets—I daresay even a bit betrer. I fancy his looks will improve as he grows up, or maybe in time he'll grow down a little.

Nonetheless the barnyard abuse only gets worse, so the iitde duckling flees "to the great marsh where the wild ducks live," hoping to find acceptance or at least respite. He finds neither but instead encounters the first metaphorical crisis in the story when the marsh is suddenly surrounded by hunters and their dogs. Othet creatures are killed, but the Ugly Duckling manages to survive. When confronted by a "fearsome great dog with lolling rongue and grim, glittering eyes," the duckling fears his life is over—but the dog turns and leaves without even touching him. Here Andersen provides an example of reframing by having the duckling recognize that his supposed ugliness had served the very positive purpose of saving his life: "Thank goodness, I'm so ugly that even the dog doesn't fancy rhe taste of me!"

After this crisis is tesolved, the duck finds his way to a cottage which unwittingly provides many parallel learning situations for him. Already the Iitde duck has learned many important things: He has learned how to swim, he has learned how to take care of himself, and he has learned how to survive a crisis. Now safe in a cottage with an old woman, a hen, and a cat, die duckling is given the chance to choose between what he knows and wants, and what others think and want for him. Declaring his desire to leave the cottage and go back to the water, the duck is sorely admonished by rhe arrogant hen:

"You must have gone crazy," said the hen, "Ask the cat about it—I've nevet met anyone as clever as he is—ask him if he's fond of swimming or diving! I say nothing of myself. Ask our old mistress, the wisest woman in the world! Do you suppose that she's keen on swimming and diving? . . . Surely you'll never try and make out you are wiser than the cat and the mistress— not to mention myself. Don't be silly child! . . . You're just

68 THERAPEUTIC METAPHORS FOR CHILDREN stupid, and there's no fun in having you here. You may take my word for it—if I say unpleasant things to you, it's all for your good; that's how you can tell which are your real friends. Undaunted, the lirde duck replies, "I think I'll go out into the wide world!"

Now back in the "wide world," the duckling is still met with rejection and hardship. But as winter approaches and all the gteat birds begin their migrations, he is given his first glimpse of hope when the beautiful swans fly overhead. Here Andersen personifies the little duck's unconscious potentials in the form of the swan he is unknowingly to become:

Ah! He could never forget those beautiful, fortunate birds; and directly they were lost to sight he dived right down to the bottom and when he came up again, he was almost beside himself. He had no idea what the birds were called, not where they were flying to, and yet they were dearer to him than any he had ever known. . . . How could he ever dream of such loveliness for himself?

The swans disappear and the little duck is again left alone in a barren and cold winter. During this winter he undergoes another crisis when he freezes in the pond and is rescued at the last moment by a peasant. This crisis then leads to further learning, as the little duck teaches himself to fly in order to escape the peasant's besieging wife and children.

Still the winter cold brings further trials of conflia, crisis, and learning to the duck, who by this time was no longer so little. As spring warmed and colored the land, he found his wings had spread and gained in strength—and he flew quite well! Again he spotted a flock of swan, this time swimming in a pond, and he resolved to fly over and be with them—even if "they will peck me to death for daring, ugly as I am, to go near them." Now Andersen provides a lovely depiction of the process of discovering and owning unconscious poten- tials. With the reappearance of the flock of swans, who personify the Ugly Duckling's true beauty, the Ugly Duckling finally "sees for himself when he beholds his reflection in the water—"no longer a clumsy greyish bird, ugly and unattractive—no, he was himself a swan!"

INGREDIENTS OF STORYWRITING 69 Next the duck goes through a period of joyful transition in which he synthesizes a new identification as a beautiful swan out of a thoughtful consideration of his past:

He felt positively glad at having gone through so much hardship and want; it helped him to appreciate all the happiness and beauty that were there to welcome him. . . . He was too, too happy, but not a bit proud, for a good heart is never proud. Finally a celebration occurs in which the Ugly Duckling's true and special worth is heralded, as children dance and clap their hands and "the old swans bow before him." His new identity is now fully accepted with his closing realization that he had come full circle: "[The Ugly Duckling] thought of how he had been despised and persecuted, and now heard everybody saying that he was the loveliest of all lovely birds.11

And so the tale which begins in rejection and hurt ends in celebration and happiness, having brought its readers effectively through a series of events which mediated this transformation—and which may help mediate similar transformations in its readers. Following is a summary of how a "shared phenomenological reality" (Rossi, 1 9 7 2 / 1 9 8 5 ) is achieved in The Ugly Duckling via our "ingredients" of storywriting.