The Philosophical Counselor as Living Mirror
In the previous essay, I introduced the idea of how a client can come to know themselves through a dialogue with their philosophical counselor, who acts as a living mirror. To deepen our understanding of this concept, I will explore what philosophy means in my approach, which diverges from what many commonly perceive philosophy to be. I will also discuss what it means to be a living mirror, along with the demands it places upon a philosophical counselor. Finally, we will consider why I believe this approach serves clients in the best way possible.
From Plato’s Alcibiades I:
Socrates: Now, how can we get the clearest knowledge of our soul? If we knew that, we’d probably know ourselves as well…by the gods—that admirable Delphic inscription [“Know Thyself”] we just mentioned—didn’t we understand it?
Alcibiades: What’s the point of bringing that up again, Socrates?
Socrates: I’ll tell you what I suspect that inscription means, and what advice it’s giving us. There may not be many examples of it, except the case of sight.
Alcibiades: What do you mean by that?
Socrates: You think about it, too. If the inscription took our eyes to be men and advised them, “See thyself,” how would we understand such advice? Shouldn’t the eye be looking at something in which it could see itself?
Alcibiades: Obviously.
Socrates: Then let’s think of something that allows us to see both it and ourselves when we look at it.
Alcibiades: Obviously, Socrates, you mean mirrors and that sort of thing.
Socrates: Quite right. And isn’t there something like that in the eye, which we see with?
Alcibiades: Certainly.
Socrates: I’m sure you’ve noticed that when a man looks into an eye, his face appears in it, like in a mirror. We call this the ‘pupil’, it’s a sort of miniature of the man who’s looking.
Alcibiades: You’re right.
Socrates: Then an eye will see itself if it observes an eye, and looks at the best part of it, the part with which it can see.
Alcibiades: So it seems.
Socrates: But it won’t see itself if it looks at anything else in a man, or anything else at all, unless it’s similar to the eye.
Alcibiades: You’re right.
Socrates: So, if an eye is to see itself, it must look at an eye, and at that region of it, in which the good activity of an eye actually occurs, and this, I presume, is seeing.
Alcibiades: That’s right.
Socrates: Then if the soul, Alcibiades, is to know itself, it must look at a soul, and especially at that region of it in which occurs the virtue of a soul—wisdom, and at any other part of a soul which resembles this?
Alcibiades: I agree with you, Socrates.
Socrates: Can we say that there is anything about the soul which is more divine than that where knowing and understanding take place?
Alcibiades: No, we can’t.
Socrates: Then that region in it resembles the divine, and someone who looked at that and grasped everything divine—vision and understanding— would have the best grasp of himself as well.
Alcibiades: So it seems.
The essence of philosophical counseling begins here, with the living mirror. The counselor, as a living mirror, helps the client see themselves—not as the counselor wishes them to be, not according to the counselor’s idea of right, not according to the counselor’s favorite theory, but as they truly are, so the client can glimpse into their life, thoughts, beliefs, perhaps even their soul—perhaps for the first time. What a sacred moment. What a sacred responsibility.
To reflect clearly, a mirror must be as unobstructed as possible. It cannot have a sheet draped over it, cannot be dusty, smeared, or shattered. It cannot be in a dark room, for then nothing would be visible. If the counselor is the mirror, they must strive for similar clarity. Their eyes, mind, body, life, and soul must be in some good order to receive the client, to serve as an effective mirror. This does not require perfection—for nothing living is perfect. Even a mirror contains distortions. Nonetheless, the mirror must be in good enough condition: free of as many blemishes as possible, unclouded, sheets pulled off, and the lights turned on.
So, what does that mean?
I have previously mentioned the influences shaping my approach at Useful Frames. The reference to Plato is obvious, and this influence extends deeply into ancient Greek philosophy. Additionally, my practice is rooted in Taoism, Ch’an, and certain aspects of Zen, which all have distinctly both religious traditions and separate practice-based philosophical paths (that are no less spiritual than religious paths in certain ways). For what it’s worth, I am interested in the philosophical ways of life and practices of Ch’an and Ancient Greek philosophy, and it is from these I draw the majority of my personal practices.
I bring this up to offer you this understanding: philosophy is a life of practice. Philosophy is a way of living. To me, this is how a counselor prepares themselves to become a worthy mirror for the sacred act.
Philosophy is not an abstract set of ideas; it is an existential act of shaping one’s attention, perception, and life through continual practices. Pierre Hadot, the great revivalist of philosophy as a way of life, described this beautifully in several works dear to me: Plotinus or The Simplicity of Vision, What is Ancient Philosophy?,and Philosophy as a Way of Life. He reintroduced to the modern Western world the ancient understanding of philosophy—a vision radically different from what philosophy has become today and what most people think it to be.
Modern philosophy is mostly confined to academia, specializing in attempts to map all of reality using complex language and theories. It intellectualizes the dynamic and impossible to fully capture, ever-changing nature of reality and human existence. Thus confined, it is a pursuit that is limited to smart people in universities, discussing big ideas with big words, arguing over whose intricate map of reality is the most accurate. We have seen attempts to apply these maps to reality, and they often, if not always, lead to disastrous outcomes—the 20th century, bears the marks of this. This is not to disparage academic philosophy, writ large, for it has its uses and brings value to the world as well, but it is seriously limited in its application to the life of the everyday person, and often, even a philosopher’s own life.
In contrast, ancient philosophy was something else entirely. While it involved written texts and theories, its ideas were derived from the lived practices of the philosophers themselves. These writings served as reminders and guides, pointing practitioners back to the practices that shaped their orientation toward living a good life. Ancient philosophy did not attempt to create systematic descriptions of reality; rather, it focused on cultivating ways of being.
This distinction matters deeply to my approach to philosophical counseling. To be a worthy mirror means a counselor must approach philosophy in the ancient sense. This understanding immediately places demands on the counselor. It is not enough to be well-read or skilled in argumentation, though these have their uses. What this path demands is my life. My life must be one of devotion—to practice, to action, to reflection, to contemplation, to transformation. I must enact my beliefs in my daily living and correct my course when I inevitably and daily fall short. This is not a mere intellectual exercise; it is a constant, lived effort.
To be a living mirror requires a philosophical counselor to engage in practices and to be living philosophy as a way of life. It is the only ethical approach, in my view. I must be living the path. I must do so with as much tenacity, courage, yearning, and humility as I can muster, aiming to live toward what is Important, what is Good, and what is Just. The hope is that through this ongoing effort, my life and my relationships with my family, my friends, my community, and my clients, which constitute my world are all better served, despite the imperfections of my actions caused by my ignorance that is inherent in what it means to live as a human.
Thus, my life—to be able to serve as a worthy mirror for the precious hearts, minds, and souls of those who come into my care—must be one of preparation and practice. I believe all philosophical counselors must bear this responsibility: of a way of life, of devoted practice, in order to be worthy of the souls who come into their care. To be a living mirror is for a philosophical counselor to ceaselessly work towards greater clarity in every aspect of their own life, allowing them to reflect with the utmost care, honesty, and love, our client’s light.
