Fear

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  What they look for are the telltale signs revealed in the stiff, uncoordinated movements and the disoriented behavior of their potential prey. The Last Turn As trauma symptoms grow more complex, they begin incorporating all the aspects of the trauma sufferer’s experience into their web. These symptoms have a physiological basis, but by the time their development has reached the last turn in its downward spiral, they will be not only affecting, but actually driving the mental aspects of our experience as well. What is most frightening is that a large portion of this impact will remain unconscious. The impact of trauma may not be fully conscious but it certainly is fully active. In an insidious way, trauma contributes to the motives and drives of our behavior. What this means is that the man who was hit as a child will feel compelled to hit as an adult. The energy behind his need to strike out is none other than the energy contained in his traumatic symptoms. This unconscious compulsion can only be conquered by great acts of will until the energy is discharged. The phenomenon that drives the repetition of past traumatic events is called re-enactment. It is the symptom that dominates the last turn of the downward spiral in the development of trauma symptoms. Re-enactment is more compelling, mysterious, and destructive to us as individuals, as a society, and as a world community. III. Transformation 13. Blueprint for Repetition Re-Enactment It astonishes us far too little. Sigmund Freud The drive to complete and heal trauma is as powerful and tenacious as the symptoms it creates. The urge to resolve trauma through re-enactment can be severe and compulsive. We are inextricably drawn into situations that replicate the original trauma in both obvious and unobvious ways. The prostitute or “stripper” with a history of childhood sexual abuse is a common example. We may find ourselves experiencing the effects of trauma either through physical symptoms or through a full-blown interaction with the external environment. Re-enactments may be acted out in intimate relationships, work situations, repetitive accidents or mishaps, and in other seemingly random events. They may also appear in the form of bodily symptoms or psychosomatic diseases. Children who have had a traumatic experience will often repeatedly recreate it in their play. Adults, on a larger developmental scale, will re-enact traumas in our daily lives. The mechanism is similar regardless of the individual’s age. From a biological perspective, behavior that is as powerful and compelling as re-enactment falls into the category of “survival strategies.” This means that the behaviors have been selected because, historically, they are advantageous to the perpetuation of a species. What, then, is the survival value of the often dangerous re-enactments that plague many traumatized individuals and societies?

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Resolving a traumatic reaction does much more than eliminate the likelihood of reactions emerging later in life. It fosters an ability to move through threatening situations with greater ease. It creates, in essence, a natural resilience to stress. A nervous system accustomed to moving into stress and then out of it is healthier than a nervous system burdened with an ongoing, if not accumulating, level of stress. Children who are encouraged to attend to their instinctual responses are rewarded with a lifelong legacy of health and vigor. How Can I Tell If My Child Has Been Traumatized? Any unusual behavior that begins shortly after a severely frightening episode or medical procedure, particularly with anesthesia, may indicate that your child is traumatized. Compulsive, repetitive mannerism s (such as repeatedly smashing a toy car into a doll) are an almost sure sign of an unresolved reaction to a traumatic event. (The activity may or may not be a literal replay of the trauma.) Other signs of traumatic stress include: 1. persistent, controlling behaviors 2. regression to earlier behavior patterns, such as thumb-sucking 3. tantrums, uncontrollable rage attacks 4. hyperactivity 5. a tendency to startle easily 6. recurring night terrors or nightmares, thrashing while asleep, bed-wetting 7. inability to concentrate in school, forgetfulness 8. excessive belligerence or shyness, withdrawal or fearfulness 9. extreme need to cling 10. stomachaches, headaches, or other ailments of unknown origin. To find out whether an uncustomary behavior is indeed a traumatic reaction, try mentioning the frightening episode and see how your child responds. A traumatized child may not want to be reminded of the predisposing event, or conversely, once reminded, will become excited or fearful and unable to stop talking about it. Reminders are revealing retrospectively as well. Children who have “outgrown” unusual behavior patterns have not necessarily discharged the energy that gave rise to them. The reason traumatic reactions can hide for years is that the maturing nervous system is able to control the excess energy. By reminding your child of a frightening incident that precipitated altered behaviors in years past, you may well stir up signs of traumatic residue. Reactivating a traumatic symptom need not be cause for concern. The physiological processes involved, primitive as they are, respond well to interventions that both engage and allow them to follow the natural course of healing. Children are wonderfully receptive to experiencing the healing side of a traumatic reaction. Your job is simply to provide an opportunity for this to occur. Sammy: A Case History The following is an example of what can happen when a relatively common incident goes awry:

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Pieces of a burning fuselage are strewn over a large cornfield scarred by a blackened path of destruction. In this dramatic opening scene from Peter Weir’s extraordinary film, Fearless, Max Klein (played by Jeff Bridges) has just survived a commercial airline crash. He staggers through giant stalks of corn, holding an infant limply in one arm and leading a ten-year-old child with the other. As paramedics and firemen rush around, Max hails a taxi and asks to be taken to a motel. Conveying an eerie sense of numbness, he showers. Under the stream of water, he searches with his hands to reassure himself that he still has a body. He is surprised when he discovers a deep gash in his side. The next morning, Max, who had been phobic about flying before the crash, refuses an offer to ride the train home. Cockily, this (now) ex-neurotic opts for a first-class upgrade on a return flight. Once home, Max loses interest in the mundane reality of daily living. He drifts away from his family and the material world, and soon plunges into a dizzying romance with a fellow survivor (played by Rosie Perez). Irrevocably changed, he no longer fears death. Worshipped as a hero by those whose lives he has saved, Ma x, fearles s, has apparently been transformed. But has he? In this truly complex film, two sides of trauma are portrayed. Max’s life has been changed profoundly by his heroic actions in the face of death. However, he has changed in two different and contradictory ways. On the one hand, he appears to have “transcended” the ordinary world, and entered an expanded, gloriously passionate existence. At the same time, he has become constricted and is no longer able to tolerate or experience his normal life. He becomes increasingly wound-up in an ever-tightening spiral that literally spins him into life-threatening re-enactments of the trauma. In a wild attempt to heal his new lover, he almost kills them both. Ultimately, it is through her compassionate love that Max snaps out of his “messianic” delusion and confronts his own terror and desperate need to be saved. Every trauma provides an opportunity for authentic transformation. Trauma amplifies and evokes the expansion and contraction of psyche, body, and soul. It is how we respond to a traumatic event that determines whether trauma will be a cruel and punishing Medusa turning us into stone, or whether it will be a spiritual teacher taking us along vast and uncharted pathways. In the Greek myth, blood from Medusa’s slain body was taken in two vials; one vial had the power to kill, while the other had the power to resurrect. If we let it, trauma has the power to rob our lives of vitality and destroy it. However, we can also use it for powerful self-renewal and transformation. Trauma, resolved, is a blessing from a greater power. Heaven, Hell, and Healing: A Middle Ground The great way is not difficult for he who has no preferences;

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  A pointy part will come on their tummies, and in their mouths, and on thei r ... [she points to her skirt]. My tummy hurts. I don’t want to play any more.” Lauren stops herself as this bodily symptom of fear abruptly surfaces. This is a typical reaction. She may return over and over to the same play, and each time she will stop when fear arises in the form of her tummy hurting. Some psychologists would say that Lauren is using her play as an attempt to gain some control over the situation that traumatized her. Her play does resemble “exposure” treatments used routinely to help adults overcome phobias. Terr points out, however, that such play is quite slow in healing the child’s distres s if it ever does. Most often, the play is compulsively repeated without resolution. Unresolved, repetitious traumatic play can reinforce the traumatic impact in the same way that re-enactment and cathartic reliving of traumatic experiences can reinforce trauma in adults. The re-working or renegotiation of a traumatic experience, as we saw with Sammy, represents a process that is fundamentally different from traumatic play or re-enactment. Left to their own devices, most children will attempt to avoid the traumatic feelings that their play invokes. With guidance, Sammy was able to “live his feelings through” by gradually and sequentially mastering his fear. Using this stepwise renegotiation of the traumatic event and Pooh Bear’s support, Sammy was able to emerge as the victor and hero. A sense of triumph and heroism almost always signals the successful conclusion of a renegotiated traumatic event. Key Principles for Renegotiating Trauma with Children I will use Sammy’s experience in discussing the following principles: 1. Let the child control the pace of the game. By running out of the room when Pooh Bear fell off the chair, Sammy told us quite clearly that he was not ready to play this new activating game. Sammy had to be “rescued” by his parents, comforted, and brought back to the scene before continuing. We all had to assure Sammy that we would be there to help protect Pooh Bear. By offering this support and reassurance, we helped Sammy move closer to playing the game. When Sammy ran into the bedroom instead of out the door, he was telling us that he felt less threatened and more confident of our support. Children may not state verbally whether they want to continue; take cues from their behavior and responses. Respect their wishes, as well as the mode in which they choose to communicate. Children should never be forced to do more than they are willing and able to do. Slow down the process if you notice signs of fear, constricted breathing, stiffening, or a dazed (dissociated) demeanor. These reactions will dissipate if you simply wait quietly and patiently while reassuring the child that you are still there.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Now I firmly believe this favour to have been obtained for me from God by Saint Julian, in whose honour I recite my prayer; and if on any morning I neglected to say it, I would feel I could do nothing right the whole day, and would come to some harm before the evening.’ ‘Did you say it this morning?’ said the man who had asked him the question. ‘I did indeed,’ replied Rinaldo. The man, who by this time knew what was going to happen, said to himself: ‘A fat lot of good it will do you, for I reckon you are going to have a poor night’s lodging if all goes according to plan.’ Then he turned to Rinaldo and said: ‘I too have travelled a great deal, and although I have heard many people speak highly of this Saint, I have never prayed to him myself. Nevertheless, I have always managed to find good quarters. Perhaps we shall see this evening which of us is the better lodged: you, who have said the prayer, or I, who have not said it. Mind you, I do use another one instead, either the Dirupisti or the Intemerata or the De Profundis , all of which are extremely effective, or so my old grandmother used to tell me.’ And so they went along, talking of this and that, with the three men biding their time and waiting for a suitable place to carry their villainous plan into effect. The day was drawing to a close when, at a concealed and deserted river-crossing on the far side of the fortress-town called Castel Guiglielmo, the three bandits took advantage of the lateness of the hour to launch their attack and rob him of everything he possessed, including his horse. Before leaving, they turned to him as he stood there in nothing but his shirt, and called out: ‘Now see whether the prayer you said to Saint Julian will give you as good a night’s lodging as our own saint will provide for us.’ They then crossed the river, and rode off. Rinaldo’s wretch of a servant did nothing to assist his master on seeing him attacked, but turned his horse round and galloped all the way to Castel Guiglielmo without stopping. It was already dark by the time he entered the town, so he conveniently forgot the whole business, and put up for the night at an inn. Rinaldo, bare-footed and wearing only a shirt, was at his wits’ end, for the weather was very cold, it was snowing hard the whole time, and it was getting darker every minute. Shivering all over, his teeth chattering, he began to look round for a sheltered spot where he could spend the night without freezing to death.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  A herd of deer grazes in a forest clearing. A twig snaps. Instantly, the deer are aler t ready to flee into the forest. If cornered they may fight. Each animal becomes still. Muscles tensed, they listen and sniff the air (orientation), attempting to pinpoint the source of the sound. Deeming it insignificant, they return to leisurely chewing on their afternoon repast, cleaning and nurturing their young, and warming themselves in the morning sun. Another stimulus sends the animals back into the state of alertness and extreme vigilance (hypervigilance), once again ready to flee or fight. Seconds later, having found no actual threat, the deer again resume their former activity. By watching the deer carefully through binoculars, one can witness the transition from the state of activated vigilance to one of normal, relaxed activity. When the animals determine that they are not in danger, they often begin to vibrate, twitch, and lightly tremble. This process begins with a very slight twitching or vibration in the upper part of the neck around the ears and spreads down into the chest, shoulders, and then finally down into the abdomen, pelvis, and hind legs. These little tremblings of muscular tissue are the organism’s way of regulating extremely different states of nervous system activation. The deer move through this rhythmic cycle dozens, perhaps hundreds of times a day. This cycle occurs each time they are activated. The animals move easily and rhythmically between states of relaxed alertness and tensed hypervigilance. Animals as Teachers Animals in the wild provide us with a standard for health and vigor, as well as give us insight into the biological healing process. They offer us a precious glimpse of how we might function if our responses were purely instinctual. Animals are our teachers, exemplifying nature in balance. One of the difficulties in treating trauma has been the undue focus on the content of an event that has engendered trauma. Trauma sufferers tend to identify themselves as survivors, rather than as animals with an instinctual power to heal. The animal’s ability to re-bound from threat can serve as a model for humans. It gives us a direction that may point the way to our own innate healing abilities. We must pay attention to our animal nature to find the instinctive strategies needed to release us from trauma’s debilitating effects. 8. How Biology Becomes Pathology: Freezing The Stage is Set Trauma symptoms form in a spiraling process that begins with primitive biological mechanisms. At the core of this process is the immobility or freezing response, a defense mechanism summoned by the reptilian brain. In response to threat, the organism can fight, flee, or freeze.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  At that moment, their attention will be focused completely on the snake. We have all heard stories of people who are able to accomplish extraordinary feats of courage and strength during times of threat. The woman who is able to lift the car that has fallen on her teenage son as he changed the oil is using the energy mobilized by the nervous system to help her meet and successfully deal with this potentially life-threatening situation. Hyperarousal and constriction cooperate in enabling her to accomplish a task she could never successfully execute under normal conditions. If she were to become overwhelmed and remain inactive in the hyperaroused and constricted state, some of that unresolved energy would be channeled into continued hyperarousal. The rest would be used to maintain constriction and a myriad of similarly organized but more complex traumatic symptoms: e.g., chronic hypervigilance, anxiety or panic attacks, or intrusive imagery (flashbacks, terrifying visualizations). When constriction fails to sufficiently focus the organism’s energy to defend itself, the nervous system evokes other mechanisms such as freezing and dissociation to contain the hyperarousal. Constriction, dissociation and freezing form the full battery of responses that the nervous system uses to deal with the scenario in which we must defend ourselves, but cannot. Dissociation I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens. Woody Allen In this characteristic one-liner, Woody Allen quips a fairly accurate description of the role played by dissociatio n - it protects us first from the impact of escalating arousal. If a life-threatening event continues, dissociation protects us from the pain of death. In his personal diary, the explorer David Livingstone graphically recorded this encounter with a lion on the plains of Africa: “I heard a shout. Startled, in looking half round, I saw the lion just in the act of springing upon me. I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my ear, he shook me as a terrier does a rat. The shock produced a stupor similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. It caused a sort of dreaminess in which there was no sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental process.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  The involuntary and instinctual portions of the human brain and nervous system are virtually identical to those of other mammals and even reptiles. Our brain, often called the triune brain, consists of three integral systems. The three parts are commonly known as the reptilian brain (instinctual), the mammalian or limbic brain (emotional), and the human brain or neo-cortex (rational). Since the parts of the brain that are activated by a perceived life-threatening situation are the parts we share with animals, much can be learned by studying how certain animals, like the impala, avoid traumatization. To take this one step further, I believe that the key to healing traumatic symptoms in humans lies in our being able to mirror the fluid adaptation of wild animals as they shake out and pass through the immobility response and become fully mobile and functional again. Unlike wild animals, when threatened we humans have never found it easy to resolve the dilemma of whether to fight or flee. This dilemma stems, at least in part, from the fact that our species has played the role of both predator and prey. Prehistoric peoples, though many were hunters, spent long hours each day huddled together in cold caves with the certain knowledge that they could be snatched up at any moment and torn to shreds. Our chances for survival increased as we gathered in larger groups, discovered fire, and invented tools, many of which were weapons used for hunting and self-defense. However, the genetic memory of being easy prey has persisted in our brains and nervous systems. Lacking both the swiftness of an impala and the lethal fangs and claws of a stalking cheetah, our human brains often second guess our ability to take life-preserving action. This uncertainty has made us particularly vulnerable to the powerful effects of trauma. Animals like the agile, darting impala know they are prey and are intimate with their survival resources. They sense what they need to do and they do it. Likewise, the sleek cheetah’s seventy-miles-an-hour sprint and treacherous fangs and claws make it a self-assured predator. The line is not so clearly delineated for the human animal. When confronted with a life-threatening situation, our rational brains may become confused and override our instinctive impulses. Though this overriding may be done for a good reason, the confusion that accompanies it sets the stage for what I call the “Medusa Comple x”— the drama called trauma. As in the Greek myth of Medusa, the human confusion that may ensue when we stare death in the face can turn us to stone. We may literally freeze in fear, which will result in the creation of traumatic symptoms.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  In response to threat, the organism can fight, flee, or freeze. These responses exist as parts of a united defence system. When fight and fight responses are thwarted, the organism instinctively constricts as it moves toward its last option, the freezing response. As it constricts, the energy that would have been discharged by executing the fight or flight strategies is amplified and bound up in the nervous system. In this emotional and anxious state, the now-frustrated fight response erupts into rage; the frustrated fight response gives way to helplessness. The individual who has moved into the stage characterized by rage or helplessness still has the potential to move abruptly back into a frantic flight response or a raging counter-attack. If the organism is able to discharge the energy by fleeing or defending itself and thus resolve the threat, trauma will not occur. Another possible scenario is that constriction will continue until the rage, terror, and helplessness have built up to a level of activation that overwhelms the nervous system. At this point, immobility will take over and the individual will either freeze or collapse. What happens then is that the intense, frozen energy, instead of discharging, gets bound up with the overwhelming, highly activated, emotional states of terror, rage, and helplessness. Blame It on the Neo-cortex Why don’t humans just move into and out of these different responses as naturally as animals do? One reason is that our highly evolved neo-cortex (rational brain) is so complex and powerful that through fear and over-control it can interfere with the subtle restorative instinctual impulses and responses generated by the reptilian core. In particular, the neo-cortex easily overrides some of our gentler instinctual response s— such as those that guide the healing of trauma through the discharge of energy. If the discharge process is to serve its purpose, it must be initiated and driven by impulses from the reptilian brain. The neo-cortex must elaborate on instinctual information, not control it. The neo-cortex is not powerful enough to override the instinctual defense response to threat and dange r— the fight, flee, or freeze responses. In this respect, we humans are still inextricably bound to our animal heritage. Animals, however, do not have a highly evolved neo-cortex to interfere with the natural return to normal functioning through some form of discharge. In humans, trauma occurs as a result of the initiation of an instinctual cycle that is not allowed to finish. When the neo-cortex overrides the instinctual responses that would initiate the completion of this cycle, we will be traumatized. Fear and Immobility

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Due to our highly developed brains, the process of leaving the immobility state becomes more complicated for humans. The fear of experiencing terror, rage, and violence toward oneself or others, or of being overwhelmed by the energy discharged in the mobilization process, keeps the human immobility response in place. These are not the only components that keep the freezing response from completion. The fear of death is another. Our neo-cortex informs us that immobility feels like death. Death is an experience that humans vehemently avoid. Animals have no such prohibitive awareness; for them life and death are parts of one system, a purely biological matter. Humans understand what death means and we fear it. We avoid death even in our dreams. Have you dreamt you were falling and awakened just before you hit the ground (or water, etc.)? Have you dreamt of being chased by someone (or thing) that is intent on harming you, only to awaken a split second before the fatal blow (stab, shot, etc.)? The fact that the immobility response feels like death is yet another reason the human is unable to stay with the felt sense of it long enough for it to reach its natural conclusion. Humans fear it and avoid completing it. Because most of us have a low tolerance both for going into and coming out of immobility, trauma symptoms are accumulated, maintained, and grow more complex. If we allow ourselves to experience the death-like sensation of being frozen, and at the same time, uncouple the fear that accompanies it, we would be able to move through immobility. Unfortunately, these are not experiences that yield to a “grit your teeth and bear it” approach. The organism takes its cues regarding danger from its internal experience as readily as its external one. As the freezing response develops into terror, rage, or a death experience, we respond emotionally, just as we did when the event happened. The way out of im-mobility is to experience it gradually, in relative safety, through the felt sense. Remember, though it may seem interminably long, the time it takes to move through immobility is relatively short. It’s a Cumulative Effect Post-traumatic symptoms don’t develop overnight. It takes months for the freezing reaction to become symptomatic and chronic. If we know what to do, we have ample time to resolve the unfinished physiological portions of our reactions to an overwhelming event before they become entrenched as symptoms. Most of us either do not know what to do, or may not even realize that there is anything to be done. Many people walk away from overwhelming events carrying a large, unpalatable portion of unresolved trauma with them.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  As we work together, Kelly slowly and gradually renegotiates the horror of the crash. When we move into the portion of her experience that occurred at the time of the impact, Kelly hears the voice of her father and grandfather shouting: “Don’t wait; go now! Go to the light. Get out before the fireball.” She obeyed. Both Kelly’s father and grandfather had survived separate plane crashes. Both men had narrowly escaped death by leaving the wreckage as soon as the plane hit the ground. It is likely Kelly had heard stories about the experiences of her father and grandfather, and these stories may well have helped her know what to do when the plane came down. But what about the other elements of the experience? Plane crashes receive a great deal of media coverage. They often affect the lives of hundreds of people at a time, but on the whole, not many of us have even one family member who has been in a plane crash, let alone three. Further, there is the nature of the event to consider. An automobile accident can fairly easily be attributed to a moment of unconsciousness, even one in which the unaware individual seems not to be at fault. It goes far beyond probability to suggest that a plane crash can occur in a similar way. I have heard several stories of a similar nature from clients and friends. Events occur over generations that have startlingly coincidental elements. In some cases, these coincidences can be at least partially attributed to ways the child was shaped by family myths and patterns. Others (particularly when large groups of people are involved in a disaster of this magnitude) cannot be explained. I leave further comment to Rod Serling, but not without wondering how far the patterns of traumatic shock truly extend. Another example of the mysterious ways of traumatic re-enactment is found in the story of Jessica. At age two, she survived her first plane crash. The pilot, her father, held her in his arms and carried her down from the tree in which the small craft had landed. Twenty-five years later, flying nine hundred miles from home, Jessica and her boyfriend got lost in a blizzard and crashed into a tree. The tree, it turned out, was just on the other side of the same hill where she had crashed as a two-year-old! In our session together, she resolved many deep feelings and responses from a complex and difficult childhood. Does this mean that she has no need for another acciden t or that the second crash into that hill was anything but a coincidenc e I just don’t know, and hope I never will; chalk it up to the mystery of it all. The reason we are united in spirit to both Heaven and Hell is to keep us in freedom. Emanuel Swedenborg 14. Transformation

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  2. Under the brief reign of Edward VI. (1547–1553), the Reformation made decided progress, but Anabaptists were not tolerated; two of them, who held some curious views on the incarnation, were burnt as obstinate heretics, Joan Bocher, commonly called Joan of Kent, May 2, 1550, and George Van Pare, a Dutchman April 6, 1551. The. young king refused at first to sign the death-warrant of the woman, correctly thinking that the sentence was "a piece of cruelty too like that which they had condemned in papists;" at last he yielded to Cranmer’s authority, who argued with him from the law of Moses against blasphemy, but he put his hand to the warrant with tears in his eyes and charged the archbishop with the responsibility for the act if it should be wrong. 3. The reign of the bloody Queen Mary (1553–1558) was a fearful retaliation, but sealed the doom of popery by the blood of Protestant martyrs, including the Reformers, Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, who were burnt in the market place at Oxford. 4. Queen Elizabeth (1558–1603), by virtue of her office, as "Defender of the Faith, and supreme governor of the Church" in her dominions, permanently established the Reformed religion, but to the exclusion of all dissent. Her penal code may have been a political necessity, as a protection against domestic treason and foreign invasion, but it aimed systematically at the annihilation of both Popery and Puritanism. It acted most severely upon Roman Catholic priests, who could only save their lives by concealment or exile. Conformity to the Thirty-nine Articles and the Book of Common Prayer was rigidly enforced; attendance upon the Episcopal service was commanded, while the mass and every other kind of public worship were forbidden under severe penalties. The rack in the tower was freely employed against noblemen suspected of disloyalty to the queen-pope. The statute de haereticis comburendis from the reign of Henry IV. (1401) remained in force, and two Anabaptists were burnt alive under Elizabeth, and two Arians under her successor. The statute was not formally abolished till 1677. Ireland was treated ecclesiastically as well as politically as a conquered province, and England is still suffering from that cruel polity, which nursed a hereditary hatred of the Catholic people against their Protestant rulers, and made the removal of the Irish grievances the most difficult problem of English statesmanship. Popery disappeared for a while from British soil, and the Spanish Armada was utterly defeated. But Puritanism, which fought in the front rank against the big pope at Rome, could not be defeated by the little popes at home. It broke out at last in open revolt against the tyranny of the Stuarts, and the cruelties of the Star Chamber and High-Commission Court, which were not far behind the Spanish Inquisition, and punished freedom of speech and of the press as a crime against society.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  The effects were so debilitating that the lives and family structures of these children were all but destroyed in the years that followed. The one child who was less severely affected was fourteen-year-old Bob Barklay. Here is a brief summary of what happened to him during the traumatic event. The children had been imprisoned in “the hole” (a trailer buried beneath hundreds of pounds of dirt and rock in an abandoned quarry) for nearly a day when one of them leaned against a wooden pole that was supporting the roof. The makeshift support fell and the ceiling began to collapse on them. By this time, most of them were suffering from severe shoc k , frozen and apathetic, they were almost unable to move. Those who realized the seriousness of the situation began to scream. These children could see that if they weren’t able to escape soon, they would all die. It was in this moment of crisis that Bob Barklay enlisted the help of another boy to dig their way out. Following Bob’s lead, the boys were able to scoop out enough dirt to dig a small tunnel through the ceiling and into the quarry. Bob was able to respond to the crisis and remain actively mobilized throughout the escape. Even though the other children escaped with him, many of them seemed to experience more fear in escaping their entombment. If they had not been urged strongly to flee, they would have remained ther e - helpless. Moving like zombies, they had to be ushered out to freedom. This passivity is similar to the behavior noted by military teams that specialize in the freeing of hostages. It is called the “Stockholm syndrome.” Often, hostages will not move unless repeatedly commanded to do so. The Mystery of Trauma By bringing the other children to freedom, Bob Barklay successfully met an extraordinary challenge. On that day at Chowchilla he was unquestionably a hero. However, what is more significant for his life, and for anyone interested in trauma, is that he emerged without the same degree of debilitating traumatic aftereffects as did the other twenty-five children. He was able to stay in motion and flow through the immobility response that completely overwhelmed and incapacitated the others. Some were so frightened that their fear continued to overwhelm and immobilize them long after the actual danger had passed. This is a theme present in traumatized people. They are unable to overcome the anxiety of their experience. They remain overwhelmed by the event, defeated and terrified. Virtually imprisoned by their fear, they are unable to re-engage in life. Others who experience similar events may have no enduring symptoms at all. Trauma affects some of us in mysterious ways.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  We may literally freeze in fear, which will result in the creation of traumatic symptoms. Trauma is a pervasive fact of modern life. Most of us have been traumatized, not just soldiers or victims of abuse or attack. Both the sources and consequences of trauma are wide-ranging and often hidden from our awareness. These include natural disasters (e.g., earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, and fires), exposure to violence, accidents, falls, serious illnesses, sudden loss (i.e., a loved one), surgical and other necessary medical and dental procedures, difficult births, and even high levels of stress during gestation. Fortunately, because we are instinctual beings with the ability to feel, respond, and reflect, we possess the innate potential to heal even the most debilitating traumatic injuries. I am convinced, as well, that we as a global human community can begin to heal from the effects of large-scale social traumas such as war and natural disaster. It’s About Energy Traumatic symptoms are not caused by the “triggering” event itself. They stem from the frozen residue of energy that has not been resolved and discharged; this residue remains trapped in the nervous system where it can wreak havoc on our bodies and spirits. The long-term, alarming, debilitating, and often bizarre symptoms of PTSD develop when we cannot complete the process of moving in, through and out of the “immobility” or “freezing” state. However, we can thaw by initiating and encouraging our innate drive to return to a state of dynamic equilibrium. Let’s cut to the chase. The energy in our young impala’s nervous system as it flees from the pursuing cheetah is charged at seventy miles an hour. The moment the cheetah takes its final lunge, the impala collapses. From the outside, it looks motionless and appears to be dead, but inside, its nervous system is still supercharged at seventy miles an hour. Though it has come to a dead stop, what is now taking place in the impala’s body is similar to what occurs in your car if you floor the accelerator and stomp on the brake simultaneously. The difference between the inner racing of the nervous system (engine) and the outer immobility (brake) of the body creates a forceful turbulence inside the body similar to a tornado. This tornado of energy is the focal point out of which form the symptoms of traumatic stress. To help visualize the power of this energy, imagine that you are making love with your partner, you are on the verge of climax, when suddenly, some outside force stops you. Now, multiply that feeling of withholding by one hundred, and you may come close to the amount of energy aroused by a life-threatening experience.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Hypervigilance occurs when the hyperarousal that accompanies the initial response to danger activates an amplified, compulsive version of the orienting response. This distorted orienting response is so compelling that the individual feels utterly driven to identify the source of the threat even though it is a response to internal arousal rather than anything sensed in the external environment. When arousal continues (because discharging it is too threatening), we find ourselves in a no-win situation. We feel compelled to find a source of threat, but the compulsion is internally generated and even if an external source of threat is identified, the compulsive, hypervigilant stance will continue because the internal arousal is still present. We will persistently try to find the source of the threat (where is it?) and identify it (what is it?), because that is what the primitive orienting response is programmed to do when the nervous system becomes aroused. The catch is that there is often no threat to be found. Hypervigilance becomes one of the ways we manage the excess energy resulting from an unsuccessful defense against an original threat. We use hypervigilance to channel some of that energy into the muscles of the head, neck, and eyes in an obsessive search for danger. When combined with the internal arousal that is still present, our rational brains can become irrational. They begin to search for and identify external sources of danger. This maladaptive practice channels much of the energy into a specific activity that will become more and more repetitive and compulsive. In the hypervigilant state, all chang e ( including changes in our own internal state s ) is perceived as a threat. What may appear to be unfounded paranoia may actually be our interpretation of the excitement of sexual arousal or even the effect of caffeine in a soft drink. As the freezing response gradually becomes more and more entrenched, the tendency for hypervigilance and defense grows stronger. Hypervigilant people are keyed to a state of intense alertness at all times and may actually develop a slightly furtive or fearful, open-eyed appearance due to this constant watchfulness. There is a growing tendency to see danger where there is none, and a diminished capacity to experience curiosity, pleasure, and the joy of life. All of this occurs because, at the core of our beings, we simply do not feel safe. Consequently, we will continually be on edge, ready to initiate a defensive response, but unable to execute it coherently. We search compulsively for the threat that can’t be found, even when a real threat stands before us. The nervous system can become so activated that it cannot readily tune down. As a result, behavioral and physiological rhythms (e.g., sleep) may be disturbed. We will be unable to unwind or relax, even in those moments when we feel safe enough to do so. Mrs. Thayer Mrs.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Pieces of a burning fuselage are strewn over a large cornfield scarred by a blackened path of destruction. In this dramatic opening scene from Peter Weir’s extraordinary film, Fearless, Max Klein (played by Jeff Bridges) has just survived a commercial airline crash. He staggers through giant stalks of corn, holding an infant limply in one arm and leading a ten-year-old child with the other. As paramedics and firemen rush around, Max hails a taxi and asks to be taken to a motel. Conveying an eerie sense of numbness, he showers. Under the stream of water, he searches with his hands to reassure himself that he still has a body. He is surprised when he discovers a deep gash in his side. The next morning, Max, who had been phobic about flying before the crash, refuses an offer to ride the train home. Cockily, this (now) ex-neurotic opts for a first-class upgrade on a return flight. Once home, Max loses interest in the mundane reality of daily living. He drifts away from his family and the material world, and soon plunges into a dizzying romance with a fellow survivor (played by Rosie Perez). Irrevocably changed, he no longer fears death. Worshipped as a hero by those whose lives he has saved, Ma x, fearles s, has apparently been transformed. But has he? In this truly complex film, two sides of trauma are portrayed. Max’s life has been changed profoundly by his heroic actions in the face of death. However, he has changed in two different and contradictory ways. On the one hand, he appears to have “transcended” the ordinary world, and entered an expanded, gloriously passionate existence. At the same time, he has become constricted and is no longer able to tolerate or experience his normal life. He becomes increasingly wound-up in an ever-tightening spiral that literally spins him into life-threatening re-enactments of the trauma. In a wild attempt to heal his new lover, he almost kills them both. Ultimately, it is through her compassionate love that Max snaps out of his “messianic” delusion and confronts his own terror and desperate need to be saved. Every trauma provides an opportunity for authentic transformation. Trauma amplifies and evokes the expansion and contraction of psyche, body, and soul. It is how we respond to a traumatic event that determines whether trauma will be a cruel and punishing Medusa turning us into stone, or whether it will be a spiritual teacher taking us along vast and uncharted pathways. In the Greek myth, blood from Medusa’s slain body was taken in two vials; one vial had the power to kill, while the other had the power to resurrect. If we let it, trauma has the power to rob our lives of vitality and destroy it. However, we can also use it for powerful self-renewal and transformation. Trauma, resolved, is a blessing from a greater power. Heaven, Hell, and Healing: A Middle Ground The great way is not difficult for he who has no preferences;

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  He reached Wittenberg, in good spirits, on the first anniversary of his Ninety-five Theses. He forthwith published a report of his conference with a justification of his conduct. He also wrote (Nov. 19) a long and very eloquent letter to the Elector, exposing the unfairness of Cajetan, who had misrepresented the proceedings, and demanded from the Elector the delivery of Luther to Rome or his expulsion from Saxony. Before leaving Augsburg, be left an appeal from Cajetan to the Pope, and "from the Pope ill informed to the Pope to be better informed "(a papa male informato ad papam melius informandum). Soon afterwards, Nov. 28, he formally and solemnly appealed from the Pope to a general council, and thus anticipated the papal sentence of excommunication. He expected every day maledictions from Rome, and was prepared for exile or any other fate.205 He was already tormented with the thought that the Pope might be the Anti-Christ spoken of by St. Paul in the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, and asked his friend Link (Dec. 11) to give him his opinion on the subject.206 Ultimately he lost faith also in a general council, and appealed solely to the Scriptures and his conscience. The Elector urged him to moderation through Spalatin, but Luther declared: "The more those Romish grandees rage, and meditate the use of force, the less do I fear them, and shall feel all the more free to fight against the serpents of Rome. I am prepared for all, and await the judgment of God." § 36. Luther and Miltitz. January, 1519. Löscher, II. 552–569; III. 6–21, 820–847. Luther’s Werke, Walch, XV. 308 sqq.; Weimar ed., II. 66 sqq. Letters in De Wette: I. 207 sqq., 233 sqq. Joh. K. Seidemann: Karl Von Miltitz .... Eine chronol. Untersuchung. Dresden, 1844 (pp. 37). The respective sections in Marheineke, Kahnis (I. 235 sqq.), and Köstlin (I. 238 sqq. and 281 sqq.). Before the final decision, another attempt was made to silence Luther by inducing him to revoke his heresies. Diplomacy sometimes interrupts the natural development of principles and the irresistible logic of events, but only for a short season. It usually resorts to compromises which satisfy neither party, and are cast aside. Principles must work themselves out. Pope Leo sent his nuncio and chamberlain, Karl von Miltitz, a noble Saxon by birth, and a plausible, convivial gentleman,207 to the Elector Frederick with the rare present of a golden rose, and authorized him to negotiate with Luther. He provided him with a number of the highest recommendations to civil and ecclesiastical dignitaries.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  In places where actual wars do not repeat with the kind of ferocity and brutality that is seen regularly around the globe, other forms of violence prevail. Murder, poverty, homelessness, child abuse, racial and religious hatred and persecution are all related to war. There is no avoiding the traumatic aftermath of war; it reaches into every segment of a society. Circle of Trauma, Circle of Grace Healthy babies are born with a complex array of behaviors, feelings, and perceptions. These elements are designed to facilitate exploration and bonding and eventually healthy social behaviors. When infants are born into a life of stress and trauma, these life-promoting behaviors are interfered with. Instead of exploration and bonding, these babies are inhibited and exhibit fearful and withdrawn behaviors. As young children and adults, they will be less social and more inclined to violence. Healthy exploration and bonding seem to be antidotes that mitigate against violence and disorder. Transforming Cultural Trauma Just as the effects of individual trauma can be transformed, the aftereffects of war on a societal level can also be resolved. People can and must come together with a willingness to share rather than to fight, to transform trauma rather than to propagate it. A place to begin is with our children. They can provide the bridge that enables all of us to experience closeness and bonding with those we may formerly have regarded with animosity. Several years ago, Dr. James Prescott (then with the National Institute of Mental Health), presented important anthropological research on the effect of infant and child-rearing practices on violent behavior in aboriginal societie s [13] . He reported that the societies that practiced close physical bonding and the use of stimulating rhythmical movement had a low incidence of violence. Societies with diminished or punitive physical contact with their children showed clear tendencies toward violence in the forms of war, rape, and torture. The work of Dr. Prescott (and others), points to something we all know intuitively: that the time around birth and infancy is a critical period. Children assimilate the ways that their parents relate to each other and the world at a very young age When parents have been traumatized, they have difficulty teaching their young a sense of basic trust. Without this sense of trust as a resource, children are more vulnerable to trauma. One solution to breaking the cycle of trauma is to involve infants and mothers in an experience that generates trust and bonding before the child has completely absorbed the parents’ distrust of themselves and others. In Norway, exciting work is now being done in this area. My colleague, Eldbjörg Wedaa, and I are using what we know about this critical period of infancy.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  You make a note of these alternatives, and begin to relax. You drive home and tell your family what happened. There is pride in your demeanor, and you feel empowered by the re-telling of the event. Your family is supportive and glad you are safe. You are deeply touched by their concern, and feel their welcoming arms around you. You suddenly feel tired and decide to take a nap before dinner. You are calm and relaxed, and drift off immediately. When you awaken, you feel revitalized. The event is history, and you are ready to engage life with your usual sense of self. Unfortunately, humans often do not completely discharge the vast energies mobilized to protect themselves. Thus, when they enter the second phase, they are reviewing the event, but remain in a highly aroused state. This heightened energy level will not allow the “playful” reviewing to occur. Instead, they may experience often terrifying and compulsive flashbacks that are akin to reliving the event. In Chapter Sixteen, Scenario of Healing from an Accident, the most common response to incomplete discharge is addressed. A majority of people attempt to control their undischarged survival energy by internalizing it. Although this approach is more socially acceptable, it is no less violent than “acting out.” It is also no more effective in dealing with the highly charged activation. It is important for us to understand that the strategy of internalizing instinctive defensive procedures is a form of re-enactmen t - perhaps- it could be called “acting in.” To commit violence on oneself is the method preferred by our culture for several reasons. Obviously, it is easier to maintain a social structure that appears to be in control of itself. However, I think there is another, more compelling reaso n - by internalizing our natural propensity to resolve life-threatening events, we are denying that the need even exist s - it remains hidden. One of the positive aspects in the recent escalation of violent “acting out” is that it is forcing us to face the fact that post traumatic stress, whether it manifests as “acting in” or “acting out,” is a major health issue. Let’s look at an “acted out” scenario: While driving, you see a car coming directly toward you. Your body tenses instantly, then freezes as you feel panic. You brace yourself, feeling resigned to the unavoidable impact. You feel that you have lost control...then, at the last micro-second, you fight off the panic, and swerve out of the path of the oncoming car. As you pass by, you notice that the car is a Mercury Cougar. You pull over to the curb, and stop the car. Your heart is pounding wildly, and you are gasping for breath. As you try to regain control, you have a fleeting moment of “adrenaline rush,” followed by the intense sensation of high arousal. You are frightened by this energy, and feel yourself becoming angry. The anger helps.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Reliving the event in itself may seem valuable, but too often it is not. Traumatic symptoms sometimes mimic or recreate the event that caused them; however, healing requires an ability to get in touch with the process of the traumatic response. The following exercise will help you understand why the organism’s response to a threatening event is more important than the event that caused it. The exercise doesn’t deal with trauma itself, but with the physiological response that initiates the potential for trauma. The exercise will also help clarify what trauma feels like (which is similar from person to person), and tells how to identify it. Exercise If you feel overwhelmed or deeply disturbed during any part of this exercise, please stop. The exercise may be too activating for some people. If this is true for you, I suggest you seek qualified professional help. For this exercise you will need a pencil, paper, and a clock or watch with a second hand or a digital display. (If you don’t have such a timepiece, you can do the exercise without it.) With pencil in hand and the clock or watch where you can see it, find a comfortable position and contact your felt sense. Tune into your arms and legs, and feel the sensation of your body being supported by whatever you are sitting on; now add to your awareness any other sensations that are presen t the feeling of your clothes on your skin, the weight of the book in your lap, etc. You will need this awareness to do the exercise. Once you have a sense of how your body feels on the level of sensation, continue when you are comfortable. Proceed step by step through the exercise. For the best results do the entire exercise in one sitting. Read through it before you do it. As you read and experience it, get in touch with your feelings and thoughts through the felt sense. Part One: Sit comfortably and pretend you are in an airplane flying at 30,000 feet across the country. There has been some turbulence, but nothing out of the ordinary. Keep your awareness engaged as fully as possible and tune into your felt sense. Imagine that you suddenly hear a loud explosio n- BOO M- followed by complete silence. The plane’s engines have stopped. How does your body respond? Notice the response in your breathin g In your heartbea t The temperature in different parts of your bod y — In vibrations and involuntary twitching and the intensity of movement s — In your overall postur e In your eye s In your nec k In your sight and hearin g In your muscle s In your abdome n In your leg s For each item, make a short note of your responses.