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Cave Bridge & Village:

An extended metaphor for change in psycotherapy

The Cave, the Bridge and the Village

The Cave is dark, with an odor that is slightly unpleasant but reassuringly familiar. It has been a long time since anyone has visited. It sits on a narrow ledge overlooking the gorge. On the other side we can see people in the Village. Sometimes we wish someone would come to join us, but they don’t. On rare occasions, we think about the other side. We even think of going across the Bridge, but it seems too hard, too much trouble, too risky. The thought returns from time to time. We push it away. Time passes uneasily.

The Bridge, is a rickety, rusting structure suspended perilously over the chasm. It is the only way to leave the Cave. Occasionally someone from the Village sees us looking. They appear friendly. They wave, and we sometimes make a timid gesture back. If it weren’t for the Village, we would not think of crossing. In our musings, we wonder, “Could the Villagers understand?”

One day, the loneliness of the Cave is too strong. The uneasiness breaks into our consciousness. The friendliness of the Villagers tempts us. The thought becomes real that we could venture onto the Bridge. Rising at last, we step onto the first wooden slat, then the second. We look down into the muddy water far below. We quickly retreat. Not now, perhaps another time.

The sun comes up bright one morning, shining on the huts in the Village. The Villagers have been calling out to us. Sometimes we hear their words over the roar of the water below. We walk the short distance along the cliff to the Bridge and take the first step. The villagers have seen. They wave. We step again, then again. The wood cracks, we scurry back, but the cave seems confining, dreary and dark. We try again. We close our eyes and step gingerly. There is an excited murmur among the villagers as they watch. One of them calls out, “It’s OK, just step carefully.” We take more steps. Suddenly we realize where we are, midway across. The way back is as frightening as the way forward.

We are now at the “point of no return.” All we see is the water churning far below. We freeze in fear, alone. The Village is infinitely remote and so is the Cave. The voices are gone. All that remains is the vast distance down to the water and the Bridge swaying in the wind. There is only terror. Time is meaningless. The wind gusts. Now it hardly seems to matter if the Bridge collapses. Slowly, in some indefinable way we feel safer. We take more steps towards the Village.

At last, we arrive on the other side. The Villagers come to meet us. We feel a wary sense of relief. Exhausted, tears begin. We can’t stop them. They have tears, too, and there is laughter. Are they making fun of us? The elder is calm, not smiling too much, looking in our eyes. He doesn’t make a fuss. It is as if we had always belonged. They show us our empty hut, a place to put our few belongings. We know that to take up residence in the Village, we will have to go back to make the trip over and over again, each time bringing a few more belongings. Maybe it will be easier next time.

This metaphor describes how humans become entrenched in "safe" but dysfunctional patterns of reaction, and must take emotional risks in order to change. Well chosen risks lead to relief of pain as well as a greater sense of connection and participation in life.