Comedy and Trauma

To be (present) or not to be. That is the question...

Mankind's eternal quest for living "In the Moment" seems to be about as likely as finding the Arc of the Covenant.

What is it that separates us from being fully present? First of all, it would behoove us to look at what causes us stress. I once heard that our level of stress is directly proportionate to the degree to which we are currently not accepting our present circumstances. And, yet, sometimes, it is not the present circumstances that are stressing us out, as much as it is lamenting past events or anticipating future possibilities.

My work with trauma survivors has led me to a VERY simple technique that I have developed, which I call Embodied Meditation. But, finding a truly "meditative state" seems to be elusive for most, simply because there are so many preconceived ideas of what mediation is, not to mention the confusion of which modality of the plethora of meditation practices is most effective. The general consensus seems to be that mediation is the state of having a quiet mind or, in other words, being without the encumbrances of thought. But, we all know that if we are asked to not think of pink elephants, then all we can think of is pink elephants. So, how can we achieve "thoughtlessness", if we are asking ourselves not to have thoughts? Talking about "having the Tiger by it's tail"...

I have found that trauma survivors have a very difficult time being fully present. It seems they have become hard-wired for stress, worry and anxiety. On one hand, this is a very effective survival strategy that morphs in time into a defense structure. "If I can anticipate the future, then I can be prepared for the possibility of threat and circumvent it before it has a chance to effect me." Obviously, from this perspective, the future is unsafe and the present moment is of no consequence.

My understanding is that trauma occurs in the body and not in the event. The side-effects or symptomatology of traumatic events is the result of unresolved or un-discharged survival energies, which have become "stuck" in the lower-brain (LB) and autonomic nervous system (ANS). The LB is without thought and thereby limited in it's form and function. It is pure animal drive or instinct - freeze / flight / fight / fornicate / feed. Hence, the LB and ANS is our "early-detection warning system." Therein lies the question, "How does the LB and ANS determine the safety of the organism?" The answer is through orienting to the environment for that which makes us feel safe and that which makes us feel unsafe. Thusly, the LB and ANS is accessing the current external environment 24/7. How does it gather it's information? Through the five senses.

Embodied Meditation was born from this understanding: if the LB and ANS determines the safety of the organism (in the present moment) through orienting to the environment by way of the five senses, then perhaps we can provide that information through consciously connecting to the external environment through focused attention. This is, after all, the only way that the organism can determine where it is in the time/space continuum and whether or not it is safe IN THE MOMENT NOW.

If you would like more information on Embodied Meditation, please do not hesitate to contact me!

Comedy and Trauma

Last week, I returned to Los Angeles from what has become a monthly pilgrimage to Tucson, Arizona. I have been blessed with a rare opportunity there.

Back in March of this year, I travelled to Peru with a group of Yogis for a Shamanic Journey in the Sacred Valley. I was there to do Somatic Experiencing sessions with each of the participants. One of the women that I worked with a couple of times was so profoundly affected by the work, she arranged for me to come to Tucson when we returned to the States.

Generally, my clientele are disparate individuals, but such is not the case in Tucson. I have stepped into a community of powerful, conscious women and, in addition, I am working with some of their children and spouses. I am looking forward to continuing to see the long-term effects of this short-term therapy to renegotiate and heal both developmental and shock traumas. I've always enjoyed the group dynamic of residential retreats but this is an entirely different kind of group container - one that doesn't disband after a few days or a couple of weeks. Imagine the ripple-effect on a community of families that is building their individual understanding of what it means to be grounded, centered, boundaried, embodied, empowered, in the moment, safe and joyful!

I have come to believe that it doesn't matter how fervently one seeks, how many books one reads, or how many workshops one attends, if there is a physiological disregulation of the autonomic nervous system and lower brain, as a result of past unresolved traumatic events, then it needs to be addressed PHYSIOLOGICALLY.

Quantum physics and mechanics teaches us, among other things, that in order to find particles, one needs a particle finder and, in order to find waves, one needs a wave finder. One can not find waves with a particle finder. Cognitive understanding and psychological perspective can help to gain distance and, seemingly, lessen the charge of the deregulation, but it is a temporary fix at best.

I like to say that there is very little difference between sex, drugs and rock and roll and prayer, meditation and yoga, when they are used as a means to self-regulate. That is not to say that there are many people out there who practice yoga for the sheer joy of it or meditate because of its benefits or pray to feel a conscious contact with a higher power. I know that for many years I practiced yoga in an (unconscious) effort to bliss out, in other words, to not feel what I was currently feeling. I would meditate (and medicate) to self-soothe. I would pray in hopes that I wasn't left entirely on my own accord.

In simplistic terms, we are self-regulating any time that we look for resources outside of ourselves to change the way that we currently feel. It appears that the higher brain - or our conscious mind - does not want us to feel: If I feel something, then something is wrong. If I feel nothing, then everything is OK. The higher brain is a problem solver and therefor seeks out problems to solve, which keeps us in a state of all things problematic.

If I itch, I scratch it. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm sad, I drink. If I'm angry, I go for a run. (This is not self-disclosure, as these are not the ways in which I self-regulate. Although, I do have a tendency to scratch when I itch and eat when I'm hungry.) On a side note, did you know that many people mistake the sensation for thirst for hunger and eat when their body is dehydrated? It may be necessary for us to not only learn how to tolerate sensation in the body, but also to reeducate ourselves on the affect and meaning of those sensations.

My hypothesis is that until the organism (human animal) fully discharges the truncated or stuck survival energies from the autonomic nervous system and returns to homeostasis, then the organism remains in a literal holding-pattern of habits, cycles, and patterns, which can develop into personality traits and manifest over time into health issues, such as panic attacks, anxiety, Chronic Fatigue, Epstein-Barr, Colitis, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, Lupus, Etc.

Comedy and Trauma

As fate would have it, I find myself sitting in a beautiful cabin in Summerhaven, Arizona, overlooking mountains spotted with new growth of Ponderosa Pines, amidst the skeletons of what must have been, at one time, a lush forrest, prior to the decimation of fire.  It makes me ponder (pardon the pun) about the cycle of life and nature's capacity to heal itself.  It reminds me that, "All the king's horses, And all the king's men, Couldn't put Humpty [Dumpty] together again," but I guess they didn't know about Dr. Peter Levine's technique, Somatic Experiencing, to re-negotiate developmental and shock traumas.  Had they known, there surely would have been a Phoenix rising out of that broken shell.

I recall hanging upside down, as the shell of my badly broken car filled full of smoke.  I patiently waited for the the next impact and the sound of crumpling metal that would certainly precipitate the untimely departure from my Earthly body.  

Just moments before, my car had been tumbling across the freeway and I was fully surrendered to dying.  I have never been so calm and present, nor so fully oriented to my environment, as I was during that surreal, slow-motion, almost mystical event.  My thoughts were so lucid.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there wasn't any way that I would survive.  And, I was relieved.  I was finally going to 'graduate' the school-of-life and I thought to myself, "Why did I ever quit smoking?!"  

But then that voice came back and said, "You need to turn the ignition off NOW."  Oh, no!  How could that be?  I'm going to live?!  Panic started to overcome me when I couldn't get the key to turn.  The voice returned one last time, "It's in Drive," it said in a tone as if to imply, "You #@%$^&! idiot!"  So, I put the car into Park, turned the key, and, like a Phoenix, crawled out the back passenger window.  I had survived after all - and relatively unscathed at that.  

A few days later, the panic attacks would start and I would begin to question my sanity and rage and lament.  To add insult to injury, not only had I survived, but all of the old wounds, patterns, habits, and core beliefs that I thought I had healed in the 80's (by attending every workshop, reading every book, sitting at the feet of every Guru and through the countless hours spent in prayer, meditation and yoga) returned in full force.  I was still HERE, plagued not only by several full-blown panic attacks a day, but also by having to carry the weight of all of my old familiar baggage in my own unwieldy U-Haul.  

Needless to say, the future looked pretty bleak. How could I ever expect to put all the pieces back together again?  And, I wrestled with the notion that if I had survived, then there had to be some reason, some purpose.  

I sat in my Chiropractor's office one day and explained to her that it felt like all the good parts of me got to leave and all the bad parts of me stayed behind.  And I was pissed.  It was almost as if some negative force or 'entity' had glommed onto me during the wreck. So, logically, for as crazy as it seemed, I asked Dr. Connie if she could refer me to an exorcist.  She laughed and said, "Perhaps you need a trauma specialist."  So she gave me the name and number of a Somatic Experiencing Practitioner and after three sessions my panic attacks stopped, entirely.  The healing was profound, fast and far reaching; I immediately began the three year training program.  

Unfortunately, my dog was also in the car with me and she didn't fair as well as I did.  She, too, survived but was never the same.  Oddly, she went deaf that night and completely detached from me, rarely letting me near her, obviously weary of the man who took her on that hellish ride.  Sadly, Aspen never stopped trembling the last few years of her life.  If only there had been a way for me to translate the work that I now do with humans...

Comedy and Trauma

For as much as I think, I should write, simply get it out, as soon as it streams in.  There’s nothing worse than having a thought at an inopportune time and then thinking, “I should remember to write that down.”  Perhaps it will even free up a bit of mental real estate.  But like today’s market, that might be over-valued.

Funny how staring at the computer-screen can cease all thoughts. ENTIRELY.

 

So, there are all of these “projects”: work-stuff, personal-stuff, life-stuff.  And, yet, I am on the central coast of California in Cayucos, staring at the ocean on a foggy day in May, while sitting wrapped up in a coffee and vanilla colored baby alpaca scarf from Peru with my laptop resting on the board-shorts I recently bought on Maui. (Notice how it’s ‘on Maui’ and not ‘in Maui’? After all, it’s not ‘on Cayucos’; it’s ‘in Cayucos’. For that matter, why is vanilla always white, when there is NOTHING white about vanilla?)

It’s probably not wise to use one’s laptop with flocks of Pelicans flying overhead, huh? Nothing’s happened yet, but I do feel as though I am tempting fate, as I was shat upon TWICE last week in Los Angeles, gratefully, neither time my laptop was targeted.  Granted, the first time was by a hummingbird, which felt way more auspicious then it was messy.  The second encounter, I swear, the bird flew out of its way and took aim.  They say, “It’s good luck.”  I guess I should be in Vegas-Baby and not in Cayucos.

Nothing has been finalized, but, I have been “asked” to write, and, not only that, asked to blogboth online for Deepak Chopra’s daughter’s website Intent.com and on BlogTalk Radio.  God knows I can talk ad nauseam, so the radio show will simply be an exercise of constraint. With over 200 amazing healers in the registry of Enlightened Concierge, I have more than enough people to interview for at least the next 4 years. 

But writing is such delicate work.  The free-flowing thoughts need to be carefully crafted with adept wordsmithery and proper punctuation. Punctuation is the only means of adding inflection, pace and rhythm into the ghastly absence of tone of voice, body language and behavior.  After all, words are only 12% of communication.  (That became crystal-clear during my last relationship.) Writing is all about the editing; editing is where the true magic occurs. And that brings me to my favorite thing of all:  cut, copy, paste!  Abracadabra!  This simple word-processing function affords me the filter that I seem to lack while I am speaking extemporaneously.

But there is the personal content that I will need to add to the weekly radio address.  I guess I could re-purpose/recycle (I try to be green) my written Blog by reading it on the air.  However, I write to be read, so reading aloud what I write seems counter-intuitive at best.  It’s always obvious to me when writers read their own work aloud. They seem to miss the joy of discovering the surprise of their own hand-twisted turn of a phrase.

Why start to write (again) now?  I’ve successfully put it off since the time I took a suitcase filled with 12 years’ worth of journals to Maui for a little read. It was at that time that I discovered that I had been writing the same thing over and over for T-W-E-L-V-E YEARS. We all have our patterns, I suppose.

Frankly, I was bored reading them and couldn’t imagine that anyone else might find it interesting.  I stopped writing, right there and then.  It was at that point in time that I also quit reading so much ‘self-help’.  It hadn’t REALLY helped.  I recall that, long ago, I had even bought a book on “self-sabotage.” Never finished it.  (Bu-dum-cha!)

In fact, it was the moment that I decided to stop all spiritual pursuits. I began to question if I were a physical man trying to lead a spiritual life or a spiritual man trying to live a physical life. I decided that I was a complicated man who wanted to live a simple life. As the Buddhists say, “Chop wood.  Carry water.” 

But then, years later, there was the car wreck four nights before Christmas that changed everything.  I guess it goes without saying that if your car flips end-over-end, rolls across three lanes of traffic on one of LA’s busiest freeways, and slides on the driver’s door for 150 feet before slamming into a concrete wall, then it may just be A Time of Reckoning.  And, it was just for me; no other cars were involved, except for the car that clipped me as it tried to overtake the other car that it was racing.  One of the witnesses said that she thought the car that hit mine was red.  But it was going too fast to really tell for sure. 

Little did I know, as I stood laughing barefoot on the highway-of-life, waiting for the police to arrive, that my life had begun – again?  Who knew that I needed to reboot?  Perhaps that would explain the voice (outside of my head) that told me mid-way through the accident that, “There’s nothing you can do anymore.  Just let go.”  And so, I did.  I took my hands off of the wheel and my foot off of the brake. I Let Go!  And, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride had only just begun… It’s everything that has happened since then that I think is really interesting.