I think we’ve gradually lost the ability to really listen — not just to what’s happening around us, but to the voices of those who came before. And perhaps, most of all, to the wisdom of the old.

Dr. McGary, a steady guide for many and a light in darker times, passed away on September 28th, 2024. Her wisdom lives on, though, preserved in YouTube interviews and in the pages of her books. She spoke with a quiet, measured clarity — the kind that only a lifetime of experience can bring.

Listening to her, I couldn’t help but think of my own grandmother. The more I listened, the more I found myself captivated — not by elaborate theories or grand philosophies, but by the elegant simplicity of her approach to life. Perhaps, in this hurried world, it is her kind of wisdom that we need the most.

I was particularly drawn to her concept of the Five Ls — Life, Love, Laughter, Labor, and Listening. Each of these, she explained, forms the foundation of a healing, fulfilled life.

Life and love, she said, “are inseparable, like two sides of a coin.”

One of my clients who passed from cancer left me with something that still stays with me. In his final days, you could have offered him all the wealth in the world, and he would have turned it away. Nothing mattered more than life itself, the warmth of being loved, and the deep peace of knowing he had loved in return. In a way, this client also reinforced the idea that life and love are not two separate things; they are woven together, inseparable as the very breath we take.

When we think of laughter, it’s hard not to recall that familiar quote: “A day without laughter is a day wasted,” often attributed to Charlie Chaplin. It captures a universal truth — how essential laughter is to our days, to our well-being.

I think that if we look closely at Dr. McGarey’s words, what she’s really saying is that laughter is not just an expression of joy; it’s a release, a way to break the cycle of our own seriousness. No matter how grave my clients with cancer were, even close to death, it didn’t stop them from laughing now and then in our meetings. This reminds me that it’s always possible to laugh and to see life as something to be experienced, not a burden to be carried.

Dr Gladys McGarey emphasises that labour requires patience, compassion, and a deep trust in the process. Whether it’s the labour of raising a child, healing, or pursuing one’s purpose, she views it as a sacred act of love and creation. Perhaps because of my work as a psychotherapist, I feel that when labour is done with a sense of devotion and involvement, it becomes a kind of spiritual practice — a way of connecting with life on a profound level, almost a reverence for existence itself.

There’s an indescribable reward in witnessing someone shift from feeling completely lost to truly empowered.

Dr. McGarey believes that listening is an act of healing in itself. She sees it as a cornerstone of holistic care, where truly hearing someone provides comfort, validation, and a deep sense of connection. For her, listening isn’t merely about words; it’s about tuning into the energy and essence of a person, understanding what lies beyond the surface.

As a psychotherapist, listening is my bread and butter. You might think I’m joking, but when I moved to England and took my exams to qualify here as well, I had to undergo a role-play assessment with a client. There are two things about that experience that stick with me — and I promise, this is a true story. First, I was advised not to start the session by asking, “How are you?” because, apparently, the client would likely launch into their entire life story. And second, I was actually told I was listening too much — I was advised to provide more intervention!

This experience was eye-opening. It revealed something simple yet profound: even among therapists, the act of truly listening is often underestimated. To listen — without judgement, without rushing to intervene — is rare. Most are eager to impose their knowledge, to shape and direct. But real listening requires a quiet mind, a mind free from its own agenda, open to understanding the other without distortion. Only then can we meet another human being as they are, not as we wish them to be.

As a therapist, I am continually reminded that the essence of our work lies not in the advice we give but in the presence we bring. A therapist who forgets himself, who suspends his own judgments, goals, or preoccupations, creates a space for the client to be fully seen and heard. When we allow our own thoughts and intentions to take over, when we are focused on what we might say next or on the “targets” of the session, we’re not really there. The client might see us in the room, but they won’t feel us with them. We become a physical presence, but there’s no genuine connection, no shared moment. In truth, we’re only listening to ourselves.

A client once said, ‘I just want you to listen to me. I don’t expect you to fix me or make me feel better. I just want to talk and not feel worse.’

These words reflect a deep longing to be truly heard, free from judgement, free from assumptions. So many people are met with dismissal or casual reassurance — ‘Oh, you don’t look depressed’ — when what they really need is someone to listen without minimising their experience.

So, I’m not buying the idea of not asking, ‘How are you?’

I know what brought you here is Dr. McGarey’s teachings on the 5Ls, but I would also like to add some other Ls I have learned through my work with clients.

Lightness, as clients have shown me, is about not carrying unnecessary burdens. When we choose lightness, we move with greater ease through the complexities of life, unburdened by the weight of undue expectations or past regrets. Lightness fosters an internal flexibility that allows them to adapt and grow.

Light is another element that clients have illuminated for me. It represents awareness — the inner illumination that dispels the shadows of confusion and doubt. With light, we navigate life’s challenges with clarity, seeing beyond immediate struggles to a broader perspective. It’s the glow that allows resilience to flourish.

In the therapeutic space, fostering this light means nurturing a sense of safety and trust. It’s in these conditions that clients find the courage to explore their vulnerabilities, confront their fears, and illuminate parts of themselves that have long been in shadow. This light doesn’t obliterate difficulties but rather shines on them, making them manageable, approachable, and, most importantly, a part of their growth.

As Seneca once said, “When a man does not know what harbor he is making for, no wind is the right wind.”

Less has been a lesson in itself. Clients often discover that letting go — of habits, thoughts, or relationships that no longer serve them — brings them peace. Less is not about deprivation; it’s about intentional space-making. Less is more, serving as a way of inviting simplicity and a deeper focus on what truly matters.

Loss is an inevitable part of life that reshapes who we are. You can’t have life without death. I think a meaningful way to understand grief is through Dr. Lois Tonkin’s model, which shows that loss doesn’t shrink over time — we grow around it.

Picture loss as a black sphere in a jar: initially, it consumes all space. While the sphere stays constant, the jar expands as we add moments of joy, learning, and resilience. This growth allows us to coexist with loss, integrating it into our broader existence. Loss remains, but our capacity to live and hold love, laughter, and new memories grows around it, creating room for both sorrow and hope.

Lastly, Limiting social media is essential for well-being, a lesson both my clients and I have learned through experience. When we don’t manage our online interactions, it can become overwhelming and drain our energy. Unchecked engagement pulls us away from ourselves, clouds our thoughts, and adds unnecessary stress.

So Five Ls :

Life, Love, Laughter, Labor, and Listening.

plus

Lightness, Light, Loss, Less, and Limiting social media.

Moreover, among all these L-lessons, I believe there are two other important lessons I hear in between the lines of her voice:

In her words:

1. “All healing comes from within.”

This reminded me of a powerful story by Ada Luz Márquez, a renowned storyteller and writer known for her poignant reflections on life and healing.

She said:

The old soul healer said: it’s not the back that hurts, but the burden. It’s not the eyes that hurt, but the injustice. It’s not the head that hurts, but the thoughts. It’s not the throat that hurts, but what is left unspoken or what is expressed with anger. It’s not the stomach that hurts, but what the soul cannot digest. It’s not the liver that hurts, but the anger. It’s not the heart that hurts, but love. And it is love itself that holds the most powerful medicine.

It seems that Ada Luz Márquez is saying that healing is an inside job. Our pain often mirrors unspoken emotions or unresolved struggles. True healing begins when we confront these, allowing love and awareness to restore balance from within.

2. Community

Life and love, she said, “are inseparable, like two sides of a coin”. But what kind of life or love is it if we only focus on ourselves?

Thich Nhat Hanh, too, spoke of this sacred connection when he described the ‘sangha’, the spiritual community that nurtures, sustains, and heals us.

Image credit: Plum Village, source: ‘What Is Most Important Thing When Building a Sangha?’                                                             https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDkfiWP7QJM

And have you ever come across something as captivating and mysterious as the ‘Roseto Mystery’? I discovered it while reading Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, and it left me spellbound.

The story unfolds around an Italian immigrant community in Pennsylvania, where the townspeople defied conventional health expectations. The Rosetans, bound by connections deeper than blood, revealed a profound truth: their collective lifestyle and unwavering sense of community were key to their health and longevity. Scientists who studied them were puzzled; the typical predictors of health simply didn’t apply. Instead, the secret lay in something intangible yet powerful — a daily rhythm of connection. Neighbours greeted one another warmly, generations shared homes under the same roof, and life was steeped in a communal spirit that enriched every interaction.

Can isolation kill, then?

Dr. Gladys McGarey, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Malcolm Gladwell all convey a similar message: success, health, and fulfilment aren’t solitary roads; they are collective journeys. When we learn to live in connection with others, we find not just longer years, but richer ones.