Exploring the delicate boundary between helping someone make sense of their experience & deciding what it means for them.
A recent conversation made me reflect on something that extends far beyond the spiritual beliefs we were discussing.
The person I was speaking with believed that certain experiences of suffering could be understood through karma, including the possibility that we might have chosen particular circumstances before birth. I did not share this perspective, but that was not, in itself, what troubled me. We all make sense of life through our own convictions, experiences and ways of understanding the world.
What unsettled me was the apparent unwillingness to consider another perspective. As I raised questions about the possible consequences of applying such an interpretation to another person’s life, the conversation repeatedly returned to the same explanations. Rather than opening a discussion, each objection seemed to reinforce an already established certainty.
The conversation led me to think less about karma than about our relationship with the ideas we hold to be true. How easily can a framework that helps us understand our own lives become the reality through which we explain someone else’s? And what happens when our confidence in that explanation leaves little room for the other person’s experience?
These questions take on particular significance in the context of professional support. Whether we work through psychological theories, spiritual traditions, astrology or other approaches regarding personal development, we inevitably bring our own understanding of human experience into the relationship. Our knowledge and perspectives can be valuable. They may help someone identify patterns, consider unfamiliar possibilities or find language for something they have struggled to express.
But they can also become limitations when we forget that our understanding is only one possible way of approaching another person’s experience.
What We Bring Into the Room
No practitioner approaches another person with a completely neutral perspective. Alongside our professional training, we carry beliefs, values, assumptions and emotional responses shaped by our own histories. These dimensions of ourselves can enrich our understanding of others, making us more attentive to aspects of their lives that might otherwise go unnoticed.
The difficulty arises when we overlook how they shape our perceptions.
A practitioner who places great importance on forgiveness, for example, may be inclined to see it as a necessary step towards healing. Someone who has found meaning in adversity may encourage others to search for a purpose in their suffering. Neither perspective is inherently without value. Yet what has been meaningful or transformative for one person may be irrelevant, premature or even harmful for another.
Our interpretations can also be shaped by less conscious reactions. A client’s choices may challenge our values, awaken memories of our own experiences or confront us with situations we find difficult to understand. Without sufficient awareness, we may respond to these feelings by offering advice, favouring certain explanations or subtly steering the conversation towards conclusions that feel more comfortable to us.
Therefore, learning a method is not the same as learning how to accompany another person.
During my training in psychosynthesis, considerable attention was given not only to understanding psychological processes, but also to examining what we ourselves brought into the therapeutic relationship. We were encouraged to notice our reactions, question our assumptions and recognise the difference between what belonged to our own experience and what was actually being expressed by the person in front of us.
I came to appreciate the importance of this work in professional practice. It does not eliminate our blind spots, nor does it guarantee that we will always respond appropriately.
But it can help us become more attentive to the moments when our personal understanding begins to interfere with our ability to listen.
This responsibility requires ongoing attention, regardless of the approach we practise. The challenge is to distinguish between what our knowledge allows us to perceive and what we may be projecting onto another person’s life. Training, personal reflection and supervision can all contribute to developing that discernment, provided we remain willing to question what we think we know.
Photo by Arnie Chou
The Limits of Our Certainty
An interpretation can be insightful without being definitive.
It may offer a new perspective on a difficult situation, shed light on connections that were not immediately apparent or invite someone to consider possibilities they had not imagined. Its value, however, does not depend solely on how convincing it appears to the practitioner. It also depends on whether it resonates with the person receiving it and leaves them free to explore its meaning.
This distinction can become blurred when professional knowledge is mistaken for authority over another person’s inner life. A psychological concept, an astrological configuration or a spiritual teaching may provide a useful point of reference, but none can tell us with certainty what a particular event means to the individual living through it.
The way an interpretation is offered matters as much as its content. There is a considerable difference between suggesting that a particular dynamic might be worth exploring and declaring that it explains why someone has encountered a painful situation. The first invites reflection; the second risks closing it down, especially when the person seeking support is already struggling to make sense of what has happened.
We should also consider the imbalance that can exist within a professional helping relationship. Someone who turns to a practitioner may be feeling vulnerable, uncertain or disconnected from their own judgment. In such circumstances, an authoritative explanation can carry more weight than intended. The person may accept it not because it genuinely reflects their experience, but because they assume the professional knows something they do not.
Respecting another person’s autonomy therefore requires more than allowing them to disagree. It means remaining genuinely receptive when our interpretation does not resonate, without treating their hesitation as resistance, denial or evidence that they are not yet ready to face the truth.
Their disagreement may reveal a limitation in our understanding rather than a difficulty on their part.
Perhaps one of the most demanding aspects of counselling is accepting that we may never fully know what another person’s experience means to them. Our role is not to resolve that uncertainty at all costs, but to remain sufficiently open for their own understanding to emerge.
A Dialogue, Not a Verdict
Respecting someone’s freedom does not mean agreeing with everything they say or avoiding questions that might cause discomfort. Meaningful support sometimes involves questioning established narratives, drawing attention to contradictions or inviting a person to consider aspects of their situation they would rather leave unexplored. Such interventions can be valuable precisely because they introduce a perspective that differs from the one the individual initially brings.
The distinction lies in what happens next. Does the practitioner remain curious about the person’s response, or become invested in defending the interpretation? Can an unexpected reaction lead to a different line of inquiry, or is it immediately understood as an obstacle to overcome? These moments reveal whether the exchange is genuinely collaborative or whether one perspective has quietly been given precedence over the other.
There is also a difference between being willing to challenge someone and feeling compelled to provide an answer. Not every question needs to be resolved during a session. At times, the most responsible response may be to acknowledge uncertainty, allow a difficult emotion to exist without explaining it away, or concede that a particular issue lies beyond our competence.
This requires a form of professional humility that is more demanding than simply admitting we might be wrong. It asks us to tolerate the limits of our knowledge while remaining fully engaged in the relationship.
We can offer insight without claiming ownership of its meaning, and exercise discernment without assuming that our perspective should prevail.
Ultimately, the measure of responsible practice may lie less in the certainty of our explanations than in the freedom they leave another person to discover what is true for them.
Main – Photo by Khoa Võ
About the Author: Nathalie Auvolat
