Entanglement by Zygmunt Miloszewski

his defence. “I thought the patient must somehow be broadcasting his own emotions and
programming them into the representatives. But very often during constellations family secrets come to light that the patient had no idea about.”
    “For example?”
    “For example, Bert Hellinger himself, who created this method, once arranged a thirty-five-year-old Swede who was suffering from autism. The man kept stubbornly staring at his own hands, which usually means—”
    “Murder.”
    “How did you know?”
    “Lady Macbeth.”
    “Exactly. Staring at the ground means a grave, someone who has died, and examining your own hands or a hand-washing gesture means killing. Gestures like these are typical of people suffering from autism and people who stammer. Both conditions have lots of common features, and one of them is the fact that during constellation therapy the source of the illness often turns out to be a murder. But to go back to the Swede: Hellinger knew from an interview with the family that his grandmother had had an affair with a sailor, and that the sailor had murdered her. So Hellinger introduced the grandmother and the grandfather into the constellation. And the person representing the grandfather started staring at his hands in an identical way. What do we conclude from that?”
    “He was the murderer, not the sailor.”
    “Exactly. Something came to light that no one in the family had a clue about. The grandfather had been dead for years, but the crime he had committed, the monstrous, unexpiated guilt, was the cause of the grandson’s autism.”
    Szacki’s head was starting to ache. He’d have to buy a book to understand it all. He’d also have to find an expert to give an opinion on the video.
    “I understand,” he said, rubbing his temples, “but that was an
extreme case. What’s going on here?” he asked, pointing at the television screen.
    “Leaving the family is interpreted within the system as a serious transgression,” explained Rudzki. “Henryk felt incredibly guilty as a result. He also felt guilty because he hadn’t said goodbye to his parents. And if there’s a sense of guilt, there’s no mourning. A sense of guilt connects us very strongly with the deceased, and as a result we refuse to let them go. Are you familiar with the phases of mourning?”
    Szacki searched his memory.
    “Disbelief, despair, organizing, adapting?”
    The therapist looked at him in amazement.
    “You’re right. However, in reality many people stop at the second phase - despair, which no one understands and which turns into loneliness. And this uncompleted mourning remains within the family, causing each successive generation to be connected with death. Please look at what’s happening. Henryk wants to go after his parents, but they don’t want that. Their place is in the world of the dead, and his is in the world of the living. Let’s watch some more.”
     
    Rudzki (to Telak): I know you want to stand here, but that’s not the right place for you. Please go back to the middle of the room.
    Telak goes back.
    Kaim: What a relief…
    Telak: Please turn around now.
    Kaim and Jarczyk turn round.
    Jarczyk: That’s much better. I’m glad I can see my son.
    Kaim: So am I.
    Rudzki (to Telak): What about you?
    Telak: I’m glad they’re looking at me, and that they’re with me. But I’d like to go to them.
    Rudzki: That’s impossible. We’ll do it another way.

    Rudzki goes up to Kaim and Jarczyk, leads them over to Telak and positions them slightly to one side, behind him.
    Kaim: That’s perfect. I can see my son, but I’m not obstructing him. I’m not standing in his way.
    Jarczyk: It warms my heart. I’d like to hug him, tell him I love him and wish him all the very best.
    Rudzki: Wait a moment. (To Telak) Do you feel better too?
    Telak: It’s easier, but there’s still something missing.
    Rudzki: The resolution, but we’ll do that later.
     
    “What sort of resolution?” asked Szacki, and the