Monday, March 8, 2021
I had a healing session with an adult today. We worked on a very old trauma from early childhood. Early trauma can cause adrenaline surges. This drives our bodies to live on high adrenaline levels forever. It’s associated with survival.
I had an appointment with H. I tried to set it up on my Surface Pro, which I usually use for my Zoom meetings. It was not accessible. The default screen was different, and I didn’t know how to retrieve the familiar one. I couldn’t get Zoom to work when I went to the site through my browser. I have no idea why I have these problems. H and I started 15 mins late. He read a Curious George book to me was not his most responsive. After fifteen minutes, he wanted to end the session. He walked down to the basement in his house to ask his mom if he could end early. I asked her there were any changes in his behavior. His dad had told me that he was more engaged with the neighbor’s children. As usual, she told me about unresolved problems she had never mentioned before: He did not negotiate well when told no. I told her to tell him he couldn’t end the session. He asked me why I told his mom to say no. I asked him, “How do you feel when you hear no”? Sad. “Where do you feel it in your body?” In my brain. “Where in your brain? He pointed to the sensory-motor strip on the right side. I asked about the spinning. I drew two of the possible four spin patterns; he took over and drew a wild ride following the right-hand rule from the top of his head. I asked him if he wanted to know who to get rid of the spin. He said yes. I told him to send it out through his feet. He did it and felt better immediately.
I called his mom to tell her the results of our work. I emphasized the need NOT to push him to do the release. We don’t want to scare him. If he gets scared, he won’t use the release strategy. That it works is a minor miracle.
After the session, I tried to fix my computer problems on the Surface Pro. I discovered that all my files were gone. I ran to my Apple and emailed files to myself that I was afraid of losing. Then I texted Tommy, my tech guy, telling him about my problem. He texted back that he could stop over around 6 pm.
I had a 4 pm session with I. Her mother said she has seen some improvement. If she started at 2-3 out of 10, now she was at a 4-5. I asked her what went on in her reading class. It sounds like nothing except reading on her own. She goes to an expensive private school, too. I had her read to me from a book she is working on instead of the book I had selected. She was somewhat halting but read it correctly with good expression. I pushed applying Phase I of the Phonics Discovery system one sentence daily and rattling off the letter names in context daily too. I think doing those exercises daily should solve her problem, given her progress.
I watched the second half of Miss Congeniality, some unauthorized document on JLo’s career. Well, it wasn’t violent or mean. That’s all I need now.
_____-_____-_____
Musings:
As far as I can make out, what separates the ‘boys from the men’ is one’s ability to cope with not having things go their way. This is the single most important lesson a parent has to teach a child. I didn’t get very good instruction. But I was told that I could figure out what I needed for myself.
I would say the single biggest help was/is what I learned through Buddhism. Buddha taught that suffering is inevitable. Suffering is caused by our response to not getting the things we want and getting things we don’t want. No one is exempted.
It was also Brilliant Buddha’s understanding that whatever pain we may suffer, mental or physical, we can make it much, much worse or not. Pain is real. There is physical pain and socio-psychological pain. They’re all real. We do experience little and big shocks. The difference is in how we respond to them.
Brilliant Buddha divined that we add to our suffering with craving and aversion. We hate not getting what we want; we build that hatred up. That very hatred adds to our suffering. Or we crave something. We most absolutely have something and suffer when we don’t.
None of this denies that there is real pain underlying our suffering. A parent loses a child; we lose everything we own in a catastrophic event. If we watch our children suffer without food or just without peer acceptance, the pain is real. The question is how we respond to our own pain. Do we make it worse, or do we find a way to sit with our pain with equanimity?
The opposite of equanimity is wild craving and aversion. With craving and aversion, we valance our life experiences. We say, “This is good,” or “This is bad.” Obviously, that process can’t be eliminated entirely. You need to make a judgment to decide upon an action. Is the fire creeping out of my fireplace threatening my whole house good or bad? We need to make judgments. But do we need to invest in those judgments emotionally? If so, to what extent? If so, for how much? When does investing become dysfunctional instead of helpful? And then how to offload the excessive investments? Again, Brilliant Buddha had an answer. He said to observe the pain with equanimity. How do you do that? I have my first experience with it to offer.
Instead of going for the traditional 10-day retreat, I went for a three-day one. My husband was scared to death that it was a cult, and he would never see me again. It wasn’t, and he did. And I went for a 10-day retreat shortly after, and he was glad I did. He liked the new, improved Betty.
But back to my first 3-day sit, which they stopped offering immediately after. The 3-day sit was just the first part of the meditation procedure. They don’t teach the Vipassana meditation in the first three days, but I had read the book and figured it out for myself. My left inner thigh muscle was pulling so hard I thought it would rip right off the bone. I unfolded my legs, put them out straight in front of me, and leaned against the wall. Then my tailbone hurt like hell. I fractured it when I was 12.
Finally, I locked my leg in a cross-legged position and said, “I can tolerate this pain for one more minute,” and then just described the sensations. It feels like the muscle is dry and tight and pulling. I didn’t describe it as pain. I certainly didn’t say it was unbearable or bad in any way. Then the pain would overwhelm me. I’d silently groan. And then I would START AGAIN. “I can tolerate this pain for one more minute,” etc., etc. The pain subsided. It was amazing, and I was a convert. There is no belief involved, just experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment