ABSTRACT
Henry, a 35-year-old writer, called me for a consultation on the recommendation of a colleague whose analytic books had come to his notice in the course of his work for a local publication. He explained that he wished to decide between the two courses of action seemingly available to him: whether to undertake psychoanalytic treatment and thereby attempt to find some meaning in life, or to go into the Arizona desert to let himself die of dehydration.
