Chapter 12. The Relationship Model “Phoenix.” The End of the Path. Rising from the Ashes

We have come to the end of our investigation. Having passed through the labyrinth of neurotic masks, from Lilith to the Chameleon, we have reached the point where survival ends and life begins. This is the territory of healthy relationship models. Here a person stops being a victim of circumstances or a manipulator of reality. They become a Creator.

The Phoenix is not just another model. It is a state of maturity. It is the ability to live sincerely, without hiding behind defense mechanisms. If the neurotic models were built on false needs (safety, power, justification), the Phoenix builds relationships on genuine values: Sincerity, Love, and Mercy.

This is the level where a person realizes: they are the Master of their own destiny. Not because they control the world, but because they control themselves. They no longer change color, like the Chameleon. They shine with their own light.

THE PHOENIX

1. NAME AND MEANING

Transcription and Etymology: The model takes its name from the mythical bird, the Phoenix, which burns in fire and is reborn from its own ashes, renewed. Within our method, this is the symbol of psychological transformation. A person burns up their neurotic patterns and is reborn as a mature individual.

In mythological terms, this is immortality through change.

The Phoenix is not afraid of the death of the old “self,” because it knows that life will continue in a new form. In the terminology of our method, the Phoenix stands for the priority of inner meaning over outer success. It is a model in which a person acts from their essence, not from the expectations of the crowd.

The roots of this image reach back into ancient legends. In the Jewish legends of Noah’s Ark (the midrash), there is mention of a bird that asked for no food, so as not to trouble Noah in his hour of hardship. For this mercy and delicacy, it was granted the gift of eternal life. It is a symbol of conscious care, free of selfishness.

2. SLOGAN AND BELIEFS

People in the Phoenix state of mind radiate thoughts that set both themselves and those around them free. Here are the three core beliefs that define this model:

“I accept myself and others without conditions.” (The belief that a person’s worth does not need to be earned.)

“My life is my choice.” (The awareness of responsibility for one’s own decisions and emotions.)

“Love is an action, not a transaction.” (The understanding that care is given freely, with no expectation of return.)

3. INFORMATION BLOCK: HISTORY, LITERATURE, AND PSYCHOLOGY

From adaptation to authenticity. The Chameleon survives by adapting. The Phoenix lives by creating. The shift from the Chameleon to the Phoenix is the hardest stage of all. It takes courage to throw away a comfortable mask and show the world your true face. It is the moment when a person stops asking, “What will they think of me?” and starts asking, “What do I feel?”

In terms of humanistic psychology, this is self-actualization. The Phoenix possesses wholeness. His thoughts, words, and actions match. He feels no inner conflict, because he has nothing to hide. His energy is not spent maintaining illusions; it flows into creativity and growth.

In the Christian world, the Phoenix carries the symbol of eternal life. Burning in fire and turning to ash, it rises again in an even more wondrous form. In the Persian and Sufi tradition, the same symbol is embodied by the Simurgh bird. One could also cite the Azerbaijani folk tale of Melikmamed. The legendary Firebird, in the etymological sense, carries that very same essence.

In ancient Egyptian mythology, the tears of this legendary mystical bird, called the Phoenix, were considered a healing balm. Identified with the Bennu bird, it stands for the living sun, born anew. The incorruptible power of the Phoenix, rising from its own ashes, embodies the sound mind of a mature individual.

A mature person is one who cannot be manipulated. One who, fearing nothing, cherishes sincere relationships.

According to many mythological traditions, unlike the other figures, the Phoenix has always embodied peace and tranquility—mercy toward life. One legend says that on Noah’s Ark, unlike all the other creatures, the Phoenix alone fed on dew, demanding neither attention nor care. When Noah asked it why, the Phoenix answered that it did not want to trouble him. For this mercy and gentleness, it was granted the gift of eternal life. This is the symbol of conscious care, free of selfishness.

There are many other legends about the Phoenix as well. Though the versions differ in the mythologies of Ancient Egypt, Greece, China, and Rome, they are united by a single symbolic meaning: a legendary creature that returns from death and soars skyward once more, the Phoenix. In Chinese mythology, the Phoenix (Fenghuang) is revered as the king of birds and a symbol of the feminine principle. In Greek and Roman mythology, the Phoenix is depicted as a bird that burns itself in fire and is reborn from its own ashes. In the image of the Phoenix, we can watch, metaphorically, the birth of healthy relationships.

When a person puts to death within themselves those false images that they themselves created in their heart, and arrives at a new conviction (“I no longer want to live this way. If I want to help someone, it is not to get something in return, but simply so that they may be happy”), that is exactly when truly pure bonds of love begin to form between people. Eternal love exists only in this form.

One of the most important and most far-reaching themes for every person in society is relationships built on the pure feeling of love. At the root of all insincere contact between people throughout life lies a lack of love. Global problems such as urbanization, the demographic crisis, and food shortages each affect a person’s way of life to one degree or another, yet the feeling of love has always touched, and continues to touch, everyone. The outstanding philosophers, writers, and filmmakers who turned to this theme worked tirelessly to enlighten people. But since there was no unified system at the foundation, each attributed the painful situations that arose to a different problem.

Among the winners of the 2012 Cannes International Film Festival was a film called Amour. Awarded the Palme d’Or, it later also won an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. The plot centers on scenes of care and attention between two elderly people. It shows an elderly woman suffering from hemiplegia (paralysis of one side of the body following a stroke): part of her body is paralyzed, yet her husband personally cares for her. At times he treats her roughly, but he still feeds her with his own hands and looks after her. The two elderly people no longer share a sexual relationship; neither worldly goods nor material things interest them, but their communication and their care for each other are still alive. To think not of one’s own needs, but of the feelings and needs of another person—this idea is conveyed in the film with the most delicate tenderness. The director sought to show that in the final moments of life, when nothing else, neither spiritual nor material values, matters anymore, Love can still live. This is the greatest gift given to a human being. And the sooner a person recognizes this gift, the sooner they will find peace of mind and happiness.

If the causes underlying each of the relationship models are rooted in errors of thinking and are not eliminated, no room will remain for pure feelings between people. Beliefs resting on false ideological principles, the influence of inner complexes on the decisions one makes—all of this is what breeds mistakes in behavior. The chief feature of the Phoenix relationship model lies precisely in this: when a person overcomes all the psychological barriers left over from the past, the ground appears for new, healthy bonds between people to take shape.

If we recall other theories: in the “Karpman drama triangle” there are three fixed images: Victim, Persecutor, Rescuer. Yet within each of them, the neurotic way of thinking and the unhealthy relationship model endlessly replace one another, and the person can never break out of this game. A neurotic position is present in each of these patterns of behavior. Finding themselves in an unpleasant situation, a person swaps their behavior for another neurotic one, and in the end a healthy model of thinking never takes shape. For example, colleagues working together may go through conflicts of various kinds. Someone in the Rescuer position will invariably strive to help a colleague who keeps landing in difficult situations because of their own mistakes. But one day this weak colleague gets promoted, and the Rescuer position in the triangle may change. Noticing a certain coldness on the colleague’s part, they may toss out ironically: “Someone got a promotion—doesn’t notice us anymore,” and feel hostility toward them. After that they will begin to behave toward them not as a Rescuer, but as a Persecutor. It is precisely the neurotic way of thinking that pushes them into such behavior.

In Eric Berne’s transactional theory, among his ego states of Child, Parent, and Adult, only within the “Adult” position do the traits of mature thinking unfold. Awareness of these traits is considered a psychotherapeutic tool for changing a person’s behavior. But for the change to happen, awareness alone is not enough. Once this decision is made, one must begin separate work to bring the desired into reality.

The traits of a healthy psychological portrait are described in many theories. Adler’s theory, for example, points out that a person suffering from psychological complexes, no matter how many years they spend compensating for them, will never be able to feel whole and happy. Only by becoming aware of their complexes and renouncing the path those complexes dictate will they gain a way of life capable of making them happy.

And yet, even though all these theories yield an understanding of the healthy position of mature thinking, they do not give an exhaustive answer to the question of how relationship models should unfold in a life scenario. Not in the sense of how a mature person should ideally act at this or that moment, but what should their unchanging position in life be? What should the steady, unshakable relationship model of the Mature person be: in personal life, in the business sphere, with friends, with superiors, with a beloved, with a child, with animals, with any living creature on our planet, with the events taking place in society? How should one behave even with an aggressive person so that their aggression does not grow but gradually subsides? Mature thinking, understanding the causes of another’s inappropriate behavior, does not allow conflict with them.

“What made you angry? What did I do to make you so furious? Tell me openly, and we’ll solve this problem together.”

The mature person…

What has to happen for a Chameleon to become a Phoenix?

In search of an answer to this question, let us turn to history. In different eras, there have been moments when a “Chameleon,” casting off everything of the past at once and becoming a “Phoenix,” turned into a figure of history. Such leaders have appeared throughout history across the most varied fields. In the behavior of each of them, whatever their field, you can see similar patterns. They set aside everything they had learned before and adopted a new identity, a new style, a new mission.

Miyamoto Musashi was a Japanese samurai of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries who in his time achieved perfection in swordsmanship. Legend has it that no master of the blade in all of Japan was his equal. Even so, every samurai considered it his duty to duel Miyamoto Musashi, to prove the superiority of his own school of combat. In those days, when two samurai crossed swords, the loser inevitably forfeited his life. Naturally, Miyamoto Musashi always emerged the victor, and every time he was forced to kill the man he had defeated. His era was full of such challenges. He always won and never knew defeat. That is precisely why his school of swordsmanship was considered the strongest. It was Miyamoto Musashi who embodied the virtuoso art of wielding two swords at once. And yet, even though his school was considered the most authoritative of its time, that alone was not enough to make his name endure in history. So what had to happen for a true change to occur in a person’s thinking and way of life?

Consider this: for a Chameleon to become a Phoenix, a revolution must take place in his thinking. To pin down this change at the cognitive level, let us examine this historical moment, as reflected in the life of the Japanese samurai.

One day, Miyamoto Musashi went out in a boat to fish. He had no swords with him, of course. When he pulled up to the shore, two samurai blocked his path and tried to attack. The samurai of a hostile school, seeing that the famed master was unarmed, decided to seize the moment. After all, the killing of a master swordsman would spread across the whole country as a historic victory. Without a sword in his hands, Miyamoto Musashi took up the fight with the boat’s oar and tried to hold them off. And what caught his attention during that struggle? Their movements had nothing to do with sword technique. If you choose the right position in a confrontation with an attacker, you can overcome your opponent unharmed even without a sword in your hands. Once he had won, he understood: his mastery was not tied to the sword. Even without any weapon at all, if a master knows the principles and rules of combat, inner strength and composure matter more than a weapon in the hand.

It was after this discovery that Miyamoto Musashi founded a new school of combat. The creation of a school where mastery of spirit, not the weapon, wins gave birth to a new philosophy in Japan. From then on, everyone knew: instead of perfecting the creation of exotic weapons, better results come from mastering the art of combat at a deep level and from governing one’s own attention, rather than from proficiency with this or that weapon or technique. Miyamoto Musashi wrought a revolutionary upheaval among the samurai schools of Japan and became one of the most celebrated people of his time. Today Miyamoto Musashi is known not only in Japan but throughout the world, as an artist and as a philosopher. His enduring fame as a historical figure began precisely when he cast aside everything he had learned before. This is not about knowledge and skills. When, one day, the information a person has carried in his thinking for many years gives way to an entirely different understanding, a special state arises in the makeup of his mind. When the entire former approach sinks to zero in consciousness, a new beginning is born at its foundation.

The sharpened word of truth will strike,
Flashes like lightning through the night,
Rings louder than a blade of steel—
It tears the mask from him, reveals
The liar’s empty dreams at night.

The fire will burn the past away,
Scatter the ashes of past years,
Intention is the soul’s one needle,
That stitched the thread of fate in her—

And like the sun at break of day,
Stepping into a bright new age,
From ashes, flame, and burning heat—
The New Man rises to his feet.

(In the spirit of Miyamoto Musashi)

The meaning expressed in these lines also points to changes taking place at the cognitive level, in the very foundation of psychology. Many politicians and people with a leader’s soul, in order to resolve the problems they have carried in their hearts for many years and to win the love of their people, must above all come to know themselves.

“I, as a politician, do not want to please individual people. I want to give something greater: to bring about a revolutionary change that will remain in history.” If a person becomes aware of this, he is capable of carrying that mission in his heart for years. But when he proclaims it and strives to bring it to life, more and more people begin to love him, and to love him more deeply. The mature person who carries this relationship model within, having secured a place in society, is able to earn people’s respect and gather numerous followers around himself. Every victory, every success on the path to his mission echoes across the whole world. This phenomenon is found not only among religious and political figures, but also among figures of art. People capable of realizing themselves as individuals possess the power to write their names into history in letters of gold.

THE THREE PILLARS OF THE PHOENIX.

Sincerity. The Phoenix does not lie to himself or to others. He admits his mistakes and weaknesses without feeling shame. This gives him enormous strength, because honesty disarms manipulation.

Love. This is not neurotic attachment (as with the Mistress), nor self-sacrifice (as with Cinderella). It is the ability to see another person as an individual and to respect their freedom.

Mercy. This is the highest form of empathy. The Phoenix helps not because he must, but because he can. Like the bird from the legend of Noah’s Ark, he senses the boundary where help turns into imposition.

The Phoenix School. The methodology describes how the path to the Phoenix often runs through community. A person cannot transform in a vacuum. They need a mirror in the form of other people who have walked this path. There is a hierarchy of growth: from student to Trainer, from Trainer to Master, from Master to Grandmaster. These are not titles of power; they are levels of responsibility. The Grandmaster is not the one who commands, but the one who serves as an example.

Crisis and Affirmation. The Phoenix has no crisis in the neurotic sense. His challenge is keeping the light alive in a dark world. Sometimes those around him are not ready for the Phoenix’s sincerity, and they try to pull him back into the game of masks. But the Phoenix is steady. He knows: if you have stopped growing, you have begun to die. So his path is constant learning and passing on experience.

4. 5 FAMOUS FIGURES (ARCHETYPES OF THE MODEL)

Historical and cultural figures whose behavior matched the “Phoenix” model: maturity, wholeness, service without self-sacrifice.

Viktor Frankl (Austria, 20th century).

A psychiatrist who survived the Nazi concentration camps.

Manifestation of the model: In inhuman conditions he found meaning in survival: helping fellow prisoners. After his release he created logotherapy, the doctrine of meaning. His life is an example of rising from the ashes of tragedy through a conscious choice of one’s attitude toward suffering.

Nelson Mandela (South Africa, 20th century).

A politician who spent 27 years in prison and became president.

Manifestation of the model: Instead of revenge, he chose reconciliation. He burned away the resentment (the ashes of the past) to build a new nation. His ability to see his former jailers as partners in dialogue is a mark of the Phoenix’s highest maturity.

Marcus Aurelius (Rome, 2nd century).

Emperor and Stoic philosopher.

Manifestation of the model: Possessing absolute power, he preserved inner modesty and responsibility. His “Meditations” is a diary of self-improvement. He served the state not for glory, but as the duty of a rational being. An example of the wholeness of power and spirit.

Leo Tolstoy (Russia, 19th century).

A writer who traveled the path from society lion to spiritual seeker.

Manifestation of the model: In his maturity he renounced privilege and his copyrights, striving to live in harmony with his conscience. His search for truth and his refusal to put up with the hypocrisy of society demonstrate the path to authenticity despite the pressure of his surroundings.

Miyamoto Musashi (Japan, 16th–17th centuries).

Samurai, philosopher, artist (the completion of the path).

Manifestation of the model: If in the Chameleon model he adapted himself to the enemy, here he founded his own school, the “Niten Ichi-ryū,” and wrote The Book of Five Rings. He ceased to be a warrior-killer and became a master of the path, passing his knowledge on to descendants. This is the final stage of the master’s transformation into a teacher.

5. EXITING THE MODEL (GROWTH AND SERVICE)

According to this methodology, the Phoenix has no exit into another model, because this is the summit.

The Phoenix is not a fixed point; it is a process.

Growth: A person deepens their knowledge, becomes a Trainer, then a Master. They help others walk the path of transformation.

Service: The highest form of the Phoenix’s existence is passing on the fire of knowledge. When a person becomes a Grandmaster, they understand that leadership is not power; it is responsibility for the light you carry.

Cyclicity: The Phoenix understands that the path is endless. Every day is a new rebirth. The main thing is not to stop, and not to let the ashes of the past cover the fire of the present again.

6. MARIA’S STORY. THE PATH OF “PHOENIX”

A year had passed since that call from Edgar. On Saturdays Maria went to the foundation, where tables were pushed together in the former dining hall and cards dealt face down. In her first game she drew Teresa, and the Author had her pegged in five minutes, from one sentence: “I don’t need anything.” Everyone laughed, and so did she.

So she became a Student of the School, and it wasn’t always a laughing matter. In the therapeutic group she learned what others know how to do from childhood: to ask without demanding, to refuse without making excuses, to say “it hurts” before it becomes unbearable. The hardest was the evening she told them about the old woman by the pond and waited for them to draw back. No one drew back. The woman across from her said she had gone around her own relatives the same way, and for the first time in many years Maria cried in front of people without trying to get something out of it.

That year she paid off debts that money can’t repay. She wrote to Timur, explaining nothing and expecting nothing. She visited her mother and for three days simply lived beside her, neither excusing herself nor accusing; in those three days her father said four words to her. She tracked down David: he had a wife, two children, and a workshop bigger than the old one. She told him what she had left unsaid at the mirror: “Yes. I was lonely. And about my roommate, I lied to everyone.” He poured her tea and showed her pictures of his daughter. His door had closed long ago.

The man she lived with thought it over and stayed. Now she told him what she wanted and what she was afraid of, and they fought and made up like everybody else.

In her second year she began training as a Trainer and failed the very first game she facilitated under supervision. A young woman burst into tears over the Beggar card, and Maria rushed to comfort and rescue her, and then spent half an hour more telling the group what it wanted to hear. At the debrief her Master said only, “Cinderella and the Chameleon were working here today. Maria wasn’t here.” Maria slammed the door the way she used to at twenty-four, cried with rage all evening, and came back the next Saturday. There were relapses afterward too, only now she noticed them and didn’t build a new life on them.

Mercy came last, just as she had written in the margin. She understood this at the foundation, where the old man from the third floor was still cursing the soup. Maria asked his forgiveness for shouting at him in the dining hall that day; he couldn’t recall what she meant and spent half an hour telling her about his son. She listened and suddenly noticed that she expected nothing from him, not even gratitude, and that she didn’t want to leave before he finished.

She became a Trainer, and a few years later a Master. The book with its pencil marks stood in her office, and Maria knew that she had bought it by chance and that at thirty she wouldn’t have gotten through chapter two. By then she had left the company. Her groups were full: she didn’t recite theory; she talked about herself, without embellishment, and people who recognized themselves in her stories began to believe there was a way out for them too.

In her seventh year at the School she was invited to the Council. There was no head of the table there.

“We aren’t choosing you to be in charge,” said one of the Masters, an elderly man with a gentle voice. “We’re inviting you onto the Council. You know every model from the inside.”

“What will I be doing?”

“Making sure the Trainers don’t stray from the ethics. Helping when someone gets stuck. No more and no less than any of us.”

“And I can keep leading groups?”

“That’s your choice.”

Maria was silent for a moment, checking what she herself wanted. She knew how to do that now.

“I accept,” she said. “And I’m keeping my groups.”

On Saturday she had a new group. By the window sat a young woman of about twenty-four who wore a heavy gold bracelet on her wrist and kept glancing at her phone. Maria dealt the cards and sat down in the circle.