Thoughts & Reflections

From I–It to I–Thou: Breaking the Price Tag in Contemporary Cinema

In a world where almost everything can be consumed, priced, or traded, even our most intimate relationships risk becoming commodities. Cinema often mirrors this reality: bodies as objects, love as transaction, desire as spectacle.
Carl Rogers called this conditions of worth — the belief that “I am only valuable if…” Martin Buber called its relational shadow I–It: treating others as things to use, rather than beings to meet.
But what happens when films turn these conditions into literal flesh and money — and then, briefly, crack them open?

Fall for Me: Desire Beyond the Male Gaze
In Netflix’s Fall for Me, eroticism could easily have become voyeuristic. Instead, it pulses with rare equality. Svenja Jung and Theo Trebs are both subjects and objects of desire, equally exposed to the camera’s gaze. The symmetry resists the traditional male gaze, creating erotic tension that is mutual, vulnerable, and authentic. This is not I–It consumption, but a flicker of I–Thou: two beings meeting, seeing, and being seen.

Mickey 17: The Disposable Man
Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17 makes consumerism visceral. Mickey’s body is endlessly reproduced, used, and discarded — a man turned into product, his worth tied only to utility. Yet salvation arrives not from humans, but from aliens who treat him with care and reverence. They see him not as a resource, but as a person. They break the cycle of I–It and restore him to Thou. Rogers might call this unconditional positive regard: value that is not earned, but given.

Anora: Disarmed by Honesty
Sean Baker’s Anora is saturated with price tags — sex work, marriage deals, money changing hands. Anora’s worth is continually measured by transactions. And yet she is undone, not by wealth, but by honesty: a man who meets her without performance, without price. In that moment, she is no longer an It, but a Thou — a person met, not consumed.

A Shared Gaze, A Shared Humanity
All three films reveal the same tension: consumerism reduces people to conditions of worth — desirable, profitable, useful. But each also points to what breaks the cycle: care, respect, honesty, equality.
In these moments, Rogers and Buber overlap. Rogers’ unconditional positive regard and Buber’s I–Thou are cinematic twins, naming the same radical truth: that a person is valuable not because of what they offer, but simply because they are.
And maybe that is why these films resonate. In a culture of price tags, the most subversive act is still the simplest: to look at another human being and truly see them.

✨ What do you think? Have you seen moments in cinema where the I–Thou breaks through consumerism’s I–It?

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Lotus flowers bloom in still water — not in spite of the mud below, but because of it.
At Bongeunsa Temple, I stood before this quiet marvel and thought about the courage it takes for people to grow in difficult conditions.

In therapy, as in life, we don’t erase the mud. We learn how to draw nourishment from it. And sometimes, in the right light, that growth becomes something luminous.

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Creativity isn’t just what you make — it’s the way you see.

But when you live with a mind that’s always weaving, dreaming, and searching for meaning, that richness can become heavy to hold. The very depth that fuels your work can also tip into overwhelm, self-doubt, or creative block.

I work with artists, writers, performers, designers, and innovators to help them reconnect with their creative core — without losing themselves to the demands, expectations, and noise around them.

Through a creative, integrative approach — blending psychological insight, emotional attunement, and symbolic exploration — we trace the threads between your inner world and your outer life.

I understand what it means to think and see outside the box — as many creatives do — and I offer that same expansive, non-linear perspective in therapy 🪷. This is a space where your imagination, sensitivity, and complexity are met on their own terms, and where what feels tangled or difficult can become a resource to be integrated.


Whether you’re navigating burnout, perfectionism, anxiety, or simply longing for a place where you’re understood beyond your output — you’re welcome here.

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Inspired by Michael J. Fox

In life, we move through roles —
therapist, parent, professional, survivor, leader, child.
Some chosen. Some inherited. Some imposed.

We wear them to function. To connect. To survive.
But what if we wore them like silk, not armour?

Light enough to let the core shine through.
Soft enough to move with us — not against us.
Strong in structure, but never rigid.
Paper-thin. Soul-visible.

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In Still, Michael J. Fox reflects:

“An actor’s burning ambition is to spend as much time as possible pretending to be somebody else.”

And yet, even in performance, his soul shone through —
because the layer of a role was thin enough for light to pass.

Later, he shares:

“Only when it became virtually impossible for me to keep my body from moving would I find the peace, security, and spiritual strength to stand in one place.”

That stays with me.

Because in a world that so often pushes us into roles —
what if we were allowed to let the self shine through them?
What if they could hold us lightly — not define us completely?

Michael showed us how to let the performance fall away —
not to disappear, but to come home.

In stillness, he became more himself than ever before.

Thank you, Michael J. Fox,
for showing us how to let our souls shine through —
with courage, grace, and quiet brilliance.

🏷 Hashtags:

#SilkThinRoles #Authenticity #MichaelJFox #Still #Presence #Psychology #Humanity

In my work, I often tune into images — symbolic echoes of a client’s inner world.

These images can emerge as metaphors, shapes, dream fragments, or felt impressions — co-created in the space between us. They help us see what language can’t yet name.

Whether you think in visuals, symbols, or sensations, therapy can be a place to honour that inner language — gently, respectfully, and with curiosity.

Sometimes the work is not about explaining, but witnessing. Not naming, but noticing.
This is where meaning begins.

“What we see changes what we know. What we know changes what we see.”
— Jean Piaget

In therapy, insight often begins with a shift in perception — a new way of seeing ourselves, our past, or our relationships.

This seeing isn’t always comfortable, but it’s often liberating. A space of quiet re-orientation. A slow turning toward truth.

We might call it reframing — not rewriting the story, but holding it differently. With more context. More compassion. And just enough light to move forward.

“Ich bin allein, und freue mich meines Lebens in dieser Einsamkeit, die mir in diesem Paradiese gewährt wird.”
“I am alone and rejoice in my life, in this solitude that is granted to me in this paradise.”
– Goethe, Werther

Many people live with estrangement — though it’s often hidden, quiet, or unnamed.

Some have chosen it — walking away from families or relationships that were distorted, unsafe, or built on denial. Others have had it forced upon them — by systems, governments, prisons, ideologies, or silence.

Political prisoners, for example, live in a form of estrangement that is not just emotional but spatial and existential. Political estrangement can be a form of punishment — used to isolate, silence, and sever people from their relationships, communities, and identities. Their families, too, grieve in invisible ways.

Estrangement can take many forms:

• A parent who longs for contact with a child who no longer speaks to them
• A queer teenager forced to leave their family home
• A political prisoner cut off from society
• A daughter who can no longer stay in contact with her parents for her own emotional safety
• A person who has left a religious community they once called home

Estrangement exists on a spectrum — from personal ruptures to political exile. As feminist thinkers like Carol Hanisch and Susie Orbach remind us, the personal is political. Whether it’s a private rupture within a family or the public silencing of dissent, the emotional and relational consequences often echo each other — a sense of being unseen, unmoored, and quietly longing for something emotionally and morally whole.

Whether in the personal or political realm, the act of upholding your values — refusing to stay silent, complicit, or small — can lead to estrangement. Sometimes, separation is the cost of staying true to yourself. Of remaining emotionally and morally whole.

Many of the clients I work with are Highly Sensitive People (HSPs) — thoughtful, emotionally attuned, and often overwhelmed by the demands of the world around them. Some also have neurodivergent traits, including dyslexia.

As a psychotherapist — and someone who is both HSP and dyslexic — I understand the intensity, creativity, and complexity these traits bring. They are part of my unique strength as a therapist: offering deep perception, pattern recognition, emotional resonance, and intuitive insight.

I offer a calm, non-judgmental space where you can explore your inner world gently, deepen self-trust, and find tools tailored to your unique wiring and needs.

If you’re seeking therapy that honours your sensitivity and neurodivergence, I’d be glad to connect.