Relief

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 In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  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. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in looking round at the beast . This peculiar state is probably produced in all animals killed by the carnivore; and if so, is a merciful provision by our benevolent creator for lessening the pain of death. [italics mine] 23 While Livingstone attributes this gift to his “benevolent creator,” one need not invoke “intelligent design” to appreciate the biologically adaptive function of diminishing the sharp edges of serious pain, terror and panic. If one is able to stay broadly focused and perceive things in slow motion, one is more likely to be able to take advantage of a potential escape opportunity or think of an ingenious strategy to evade the predator. For example, a friend of mine told me about a time when he was withdrawing money from an ATM for an international trip. As he turned from the machine, a group of thugs grabbed him, holding a knife to his throat. As in a dream, he serenely told them that it was their lucky day, and that he had just withdrawn a lot of money for a trip he was taking the next day. The astonished muggers calmly took the money and slipped away into the darkness. I am sure that some degree of dissociation helped him to survive his ordeal without being so terrified as to be unable to strategically deal with this dreadful situation. Indeed, the adaptive and benevolent value of dissociation is illustrated by another riveting tale, this time by the adventurer Redside, from the jungles of the Indian subcontinent: [He had] stumbled when crossing a swift stream, dropping his cartridge belt into the water … now out of ammunition, he noticed a large tigress stalking him. Turning pale and sweating with fright, he began retreating … But it was already too late. The tigress charged, seized him by the shoulder and dragged him a quarter of a mile to where her three cubs were playing. As he recalled it afterward, Redside was amazed that his fear vanished as soon as the tigress caught him and he hardly noticed any pain while being dragged and intermittently mauled while the tigress played “cat and mouse” with him for perhaps an hour. He vividly remembered the sunshine and the trees and the look in the tigress’s eyes as well as the intense “mental effort” and suspense whenever he managed to crawl away, only to be caught and dragged back each time while the cubs looked on and playfully tried to copy mama.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  Reestablishing Continuity of Experience [image file=image_rsrc2NS.jpg] Figure 9.1 This shows movement toward, and then through, the core moment of shock. This dissolves immobility. After a few bumpy miles, I feel another strong tension pattern developing from the spine in my upper back. I sense my right arm wanting to extend outward—I see a momentary flash; the black asphalt road rushes toward me. I hear my hand slapping the pavement and feel a raw burning sensation on the palm of my right hand. I associate this with the perception of my hand extending to protect my head from smashing onto the road. I feel tremendous relief, along with a deep sense of gratitude that my body did not betray me, knowing exactly what to do to guard my fragile brain from a potentially mortal injury. (37. I am now beginning to process the event in sequential time—from t – 1 to t + 1—and have a growing self-confidence in my body’s ability to protect me.) As I continue to gently tremble, I sense a warm tingling wave along with an inner strength building up from deep within my body. As the shrill siren blasts away, the ambulance paramedic takes my blood pressure and records my EKG. When I ask her to tell me my vital signs, she informs me in a gentle professional manner that she cannot give me that information. I feel a subtle urge to extend our contact, to engage with her as a person. Calmly, I tell her that I’m a doctor (a half-truth). There is the light quality of a shared joke. (38. This kind of playful social engagement is possible only when the ventral vagal system, discussed in Chapter 6, is online.) She fiddles with the equipment and then indicates that it might be a false reading. A minute or two later she tells me that my heart rate is 74 and my blood pressure is 125/70. “What were my readings when you first hooked me up?” I ask. “Well, your heart rate was 150. The guy who took it before we came said it was about 170.” I breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I say, then add: “Thank God, I won’t be getting PTSD.” “What do you mean?” she asks with genuine curiosity. “Well, I mean that I probably won’t be getting posttraumatic stress disorder.” When she still looks perplexed, I explain how my shaking and following my self-protective responses had helped me to “reset” my nervous system and brought me back into my body. “This way,” I go on, “I am no longer in fight-or-flight mode.” “Hmm,” she comments, “is that why accident victims sometimes struggle with us—are they still in fight-or-flight?” “Yes, that’s right.” “You know,” she adds, “I’ve noticed that they often purposely stop people from shaking when we get them to the hospital. Sometimes they strap them down tight or give them a shot of Valium. Maybe that’s not so good?”

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  This shifting evokes one of the most important reconnections to the body’s innate wisdom: the experience of pendulation, the body’s natural restorative rhythm of contraction and expansion that tells us that whatever is felt is time-limited … that suffering will not last forever. Pendulation carries all living creatures through difficult sensations and emotions. What’s more, it requires no effort; it is wholly innate. Pendulation is the primal rhythm expressed as movement from constriction to expansion—and back to contraction, but gradually opening to more and more expansion (see Figure 5.2). It is an involuntary, internal rocking back and forth between these two polarities. It softens the edge of difficult sensations such as fear and pain. The importance of the human ability to move through “bad” and difficult sensations, opening to those of expansion and “goodness,” cannot be overstated: it is pivotal for the healing of trauma and more generally, the alleviation of suffering. It is vital for a client to know and experience this rhythm. Its steady ebb and flow tell you that, no matter how bad you feel (in the contraction phase), expansion will inevitably follow, bringing with it a sense of opening, relief and flow. At the same time, too rapid or large a magnitude of expansion can be frightening, causing a client to contract precipitously against the expansion. Hence, the therapist needs to moderate the scale and pace of this rhythm. As clients perceive that movement and flow are a possibility, they begin to move ahead in time by accepting and integrating current sensations that had previously overwhelmed them. Cycles of Expansion and Contraction [image file=image_rsrc2N9.jpg] Figure 5.2 This figure describes the cycle of expansion and contraction through the process of pendulation. This vital awareness lets people learn that whatever they are feeling will change. The perception of pendulation guides the gradual contained release (discharge) of “trauma energies” leading to expansive body sensations and successful trauma resolution.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  Against this unpleasant sensation, I notice a peculiar tension in my left arm. I let this sensation come into the foreground of my consciousness and track the arm’s tension as it builds and builds. Gradually, I recognize that the arm wants to flex and move up. (31. I am now able to track my physical sensations. I am able to distinguish within the “noise” and buzzing of arousal a purposeful tension. This curiosity helps to reestablish present time orientation; trauma and curiosity are reciprocal psychophysiological functions and cannot coexist.) As this inner impulse toward movement develops, the back of my hand also wants to rotate. Ever so slightly, I sense it moving toward the left side of my face—as though to protect it against a blow. (32. This is the reassertion of an involuntary defensive response, a strong and protective response that was either inadequate or incomplete—its execution was interrupted by the clobbering impact of the window and the road.) Suddenly, there passes before my eyes a fleeting image of the window of the beige car, and once again—as in a flashbulb snapshot—vacant eyes stare from behind the spiderweb of the shattered window. (33. This image, associated with the original threat, reappears.) I hear the momentary “chinging” thud of my left shoulder shattering the windshield. (34. The sense impressions or images referred to in the SIBAM model, discussed in Chapter 7, are now expanding to include the auditory component of the impact, rather than only the visual.) Then, unexpectedly, an enveloping sense of relief floods over me. I feel myself coming back into my body. The electric buzzing has retreated. The image of the blank eyes and shattered windshield recedes and seems to dissolve. In its place, I picture myself leaving my house, feeling the warm sun on my face, and being filled with gladness at the expectation of seeing Butch this evening. My eyes can relax as I focus outwardly. As I look around the ambulance, it somehow seems less alien and foreboding. I see more clearly and “softly.” I have the deeply reassuring sense that I am no longer frozen, that time has started to move forward, that I am awakening from the nightmare. (35. The image is continuing to expand, allowing a deeper level of completion with the detailed linking of the visual and auditory elements. I have now moved through the moment of impact, t = 0. I have gone from t – 1 (the moment before impact) to t = 0 (the moment of impact) to t + 1, the moment of time just after t = 0, exiting from the shock core—see Figure 9.1. I have emerged through the “eye of the needle,” returning and orienting to present time and to the remembrances of that perfect winter morning.) I gaze at the paramedic sitting by my side. Her calmness reassures me. (36. This reassurance reinforces my felt experience that I have woken up from this nightmare and that I can extend my sense of resource and support to include the woman in the ambulance.)

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  John is a stockbroker who has known the glories and defeats of the dot-com revolution. When I first met him in therapy he had just witnessed his fortune wither before his eyes. He would spend days staring at his computer screen, helplessly tracking the demise of his portfolio while he drank the last of his single-malt Scotch. He had also just experienced an erotic collapse in the midst of an otherwise loving and caring relationship with a girlfriend of five years. He was in the grip of a triple crisis —emotional, professional, and financial. When he met Beatrice, it was like waking up from a coma. His sense of relief and renewal was profound. Beatrice, a Pre-Raphaelite beauty, was a graduate student in English in her mid-twenties, ten years younger than John. In the cocoon under the sheets they would talk for hours, make love, talk again, make love, and sleep (but very little). Transported as they were in this early rapture, they felt free and open. They relished the meeting of their two worlds, were endlessly curious, and luxuriated in their feelings of mutuality and warmth, free from the torments of the outside world. As the relationship between them evolved, John and Beatrice experienced a growing sense of serenity. The initial excitement matured, the real world reemerged, and hope was transformed into substance. Enter intimacy. If love is an act of imagination, then intimacy is an act of fruition. It waits for the high to subside so it can patiently insert itself into the relationship. The seeds of intimacy are time and repetition. We choose each other again and again, and so create a community of two. When they move in together, John and Beatrice are introduced to each other’s tastes and preferences, and become more acquainted with each other’s quirks. John likes his coffee black. No sugar. And he needs his first cup as soon as he gets out of bed. Beatrice likes hers with cream, no sugar, but she likes to have a glass of water first. Some of these wants are met with ease and tenderness; some they must learn to accept; and some are annoying, offensive, or downright disgusting. They wonder how they’ll ever live with...(name the three most revolting habits of your own partner). They enter into each other’s world of habit, and this familiarity reassures them. It creates routine, which in turn fosters a sense of security. Growing familiarity also signals freedom from ceremony and constraint. Yet this unceremoniousness, which is a welcome feature of intimacy, is a proven antiaphrodisiac as well. Of course, familiarity is but one manifestation of intimacy. Our continued discovery of another person extends far beyond surface habits into an interior world of thoughts, beliefs, and feelings. We penetrate our partner mentally.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  I feel myself coming back into my body. The electric buzzing has retreated. The image of the blank eyes and shattered windshield recedes and seems to dissolve. In its place, I picture myself leaving my house, feeling the warm sun on my face, and being filled with gladness at the expectation of seeing Butch this evening. My eyes can relax as I focus outwardly. As I look around the ambulance, it somehow seems less alien and foreboding. I see more clearly and “softly.” I have the deeply reassuring sense that I am no longer frozen, that time has started to move forward, that I am awakening from the nightmare. (35. The image is continuing to expand, allowing a deeper level of completion with the detailed linking of the visual and auditory elements. I have now moved through the moment of impact, t = 0. I have gone from t – 1 (the moment before impact) to t = 0 (the moment of impact) to t + 1, the moment of time just after t = 0, exiting from the shock core—see Figure 9.1. I have emerged through the “eye of the needle,” returning and orienting to present time and to the remembrances of that perfect winter morning.) I gaze at the paramedic sitting by my side. Her calmness reassures me. (36. This reassurance reinforces my felt experience that I have woken up from this nightmare and that I can extend my sense of resource and support to include the woman in the ambulance.) Reestablishing Continuity of Experience Figure 9.1 This shows movement toward, and then through, the core moment of shock. This dissolves immobility. After a few bumpy miles, I feel another strong tension pattern developing from the spine in my upper back. I sense my right arm wanting to extend outward—I see a momentary flash; the black asphalt road rushes toward me. I hear my hand slapping the pavement and feel a raw burning sensation on the palm of my right hand. I associate this with the perception of my hand extending to protect my head from smashing onto the road. I feel tremendous relief, along with a deep sense of gratitude that my body did not betray me, knowing exactly what to do to guard my fragile brain from a potentially mortal injury. (37. I am now beginning to process the event in sequential time—from t – 1 to t + 1—and have a growing self-confidence in my body’s ability to protect me.) As I continue to gently tremble, I sense a warm tingling wave along with an inner strength building up from deep within my body.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  By finding ways to experience himself as a sexual man who is also a faithful man, he was able to undo family patterns that were at least three generations old. In the past, Philip’s fascination with porn was a haven for him, a fantasy of immediacy where the moment of desire and satisfaction merged. The women on the screen offered no resistance and required no effort on his part. Hence the tension between wanting and getting was nullified, and Philip never had to reconcile desire in the context of love. Gradually, he has allowed the dislocated parts of his sexuality to come home, and has been more able to remain present with his wife. The ongoing challenge for Jackie and Philip is to continue to bring the erotic home—to experience small transgressions, illicit striving, and passionate idealization in the midst of their intimate lives. The English analyst Adam Phillips underscores this point in his book Monogamy: If it is the forbidden that is exciting—if desire is fundamentally transgressive—then the monogamous are like the very rich. They have to find their poverty. They have to starve themselves enough. In other words they have to work, if only to keep what is always too available sufficiently illicit to be interesting. Can You Want What You Have? Oscar Wilde wrote, “In this world there are only two tragedies. One is getting what one wants, and the other is not getting it.” When our desires are unfulfilled, we are disappointed. It’s frustrating to be denied a raise, a college acceptance, an audition. When the object of our desire is a person, her rejection leaves us feeling lonely, unworthy, unloved, or—worse—unlovable. But fulfilled desire carries its own brand of loss. Getting what we want undermines the thrill of wanting it. The deliciousness of yearning, the elaborate strategies of pursuit, the charged fantasies, in short all the activity and energy that went into wanting give way to the foreclosure of having. Just think about the last thing you had to have until you owned it. Now that it’s yours, you may enjoy it, you may love it, but do you still want it? Do you even remember how much you wanted it in the first place? Gail Godwin wrote, “The act of longing will always be more intense than the requiting of it.” Is it harder to want what you already have? The law of diminishing returns tells us that increased frequency leads to decreased satisfaction. The more you use a product, the less satisfying each subsequent use will be. Paris just isn’t the same on your fifteenth trip as it was on the first. Fortunately, the logic of this argument breaks down when it is applied to love, for it is based on the erroneous assumption that we can own a person in the same way that we can own an iPod or a new pair of Prada heels.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  The men are given their own challenge—to anticipate her every desire, and to bring her to heights of sexual ecstasy she has never before known. “You want to know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m a masochist, just like my mother,” she tells me. “How are you a masochist in this story?” I inquire. “I submit. I’m passive, I’m without my own will. I do what I’m told, and I like being told what to do. What am I doing there, taking orders from men? I resent taking orders from anybody. I can’t stand authority, but I get off on submitting to a bunch of cowboys? It makes no fucking sense.” “Actually, it makes quite a lot of sense to me,” I tell her. “Well, would you mind enlightening the rest of us, Doctor?” I explain that sexual fantasy doesn’t work like other fantasies. If people tell me they daydream about a vacation in Tahiti, I believe they want a vacation in Tahiti. The connection between what they fantasize about and what they really want is refreshingly uncomplicated. But sexual fantasies don’t reflect reality in the same way. The point about sexual fantasy is that it involves pretending. It’s a simulation, a performance—not the real thing, and not necessarily a desire for the real thing. Like dreams and works of art, fantasies are far more than what they appear to be on the surface. They’re complex psychic creations whose symbolic content mustn’t be translated into literal intent. “Think poetry, not prose,” I tell her. From everything Joni had told me about her relationship with Ray, I didn’t think she needed to worry about being a masochist, or even about being passive. The cowboys may be controlling her, but ultimately she is the one controlling the cowboys. She is the author, the producer, the casting agent, the director, and the star of the show. The whole thing is a production staged by her for the purpose of pleasure, not pain. These are worshippers, not sadists. If she were really being forced, she would not be having such a good time. Even though the means is control, her experience is one of care. The convoluted plots are just a safe pathway to pleasure. When I explain to Joni that her fantasy seems to be more about attention and vulnerability than masochism, her relief is palpable. She is a recovering alcoholic, and so the idea that she has dependency issues comes as no surprise to her. She has been denying her need for support her whole life, even while secretly longing for someone to take care of her. The only thing she’s ever felt safe enough to depend on was alcohol, a consistent and reliable friend. More to the point, alcohol never asked for anything in return. At thirteen Joni applied to boarding school on her own initiative, was accepted, and left home for good. At the time she thought of herself as an ambitious girl.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  This puts a halt to the grinding antagonism and introduces an overdue mutuality. Asking him to help her is, in itself, an expression of sexual assertiveness. And Warren, finally relieved of being the supplicant, can set out to get his wife back. His role as keeper of the flame is given new meaning. Lifting the Erotic Embargo Warren and Stephanie are headed in the right direction, but the forces of eros are not yet aligned. Warren’s most elaborate seduction rituals are thwarted, repeatedly and pitifully, by an unaccommodating home life. There is something absurd about the extent to which their lives revolve around their children: weekends filled with Pee Wee baseball and birthday parties; kids who go to bed a mere half hour before their parents; an open-door policy for the marital bed. In six years, Warren and Stephanie have not spent a single weekend together, away from their kids. They have stopped factoring their own needs into the family budget, and a babysitter is considered a rare luxury rather than a vital necessity. Simply put, they have never carved out the time and space they need to unwind and replenish themselves, either as individuals or as a couple. No longer focused on one another, they have turned to the children to compensate for what they are missing. I have noticed over the years that child-centrality isn’t just a matter of lifestyle; it is sometimes an emotional configuration as well. Children are indeed a source of nurturance for adults. Their unconditional love and utter devotion infuse our lives with a heightened sense of meaning. The problem arises when we turn to them for what we no longer get from each other: a sense that we’re special, that we matter, that we’re not alone. When we transfer these adult emotional needs onto our children, we are placing too big a burden on them. In order to feel safe, kids need to know that there are limits to their power, and to what is surreptitiously asked of them. They need us to have our own loving relationships, in whatever form they take. When we are emotionally and sexually satisfied (at least reasonably so; let’s not get carried away here), we allow our children to experience their own independence with freedom and support. If Warren and Stephanie are going to get their groove back, they need to free themselves, both emotionally and practically, from the disproportionate focus on their kids. Spontaneity is desirable, but the reality of family life demands planning. Couples without kids can initiate sex on a whim, but parents need to be more practical. Be it a regular date night, a weekend away every few months, or an extra half hour in the car, what matters is that couples cordon off erotic territory for themselves. When Warren and Stephanie balk at the idea of premeditated sex, I respond, “Planning can seem prosaic, but in fact it implies intentionality, and intentionality conveys value.

• From Momma and the Meaning of Life (1999)

  No, Irene was unique and required a unique therapy, one she and I had to construct together. And it wasn’t that she and I constructed a therapy and then set about employing it—quite the contrary: the project of constructing a new, unique therapy was the therapy itself. I looked at my watch. Where was Irene? I walked to the door of the café and peered out. There she was, a block away, walking hand in hand with a man who must be Kevin. Irene and a man hand in hand. Was it possible? I thought of all the countless hours I had spent trying to reassure her that she was not doomed to being alone, that ultimately there would be another man in her life. God, she had been stubborn! And the opportunities had been legion: early in her bereavement there had been a long queue of attractive and appropriate suitors. She had rejected each man quickly for one or more of what seemed an endless list of reasons. “I don’t dare love again because I can’t endure another loss” (that attitude, always at the top of the list, resulted in her rejecting out of hand any man even slightly older than herself or any man not in the best possible physical condition). “I don’t want to doom any man by loving him.” “I refuse to betray Jack.” She compared every man unfavorably to Jack, who was the perfect and predestined mate for her (he had known her family; had been hand-chosen by her brother; and represented a last link with her dead brother, her father, and her dying mother). Furthermore, Irene was convinced that there was no man who could ever understand her, no man who would not, like Frost’s farmer, bring the shovel into the kitchen. Except, possibly, a member of the society of the recently bereaved, someone who had an acute awareness of his or her ultimate destination and the preciousness of life. Picky. Picky. Picky. Perfect health. Athletic. Slim. Younger than she. Recent bereavement. Extraordinary sensibility to art, literature, and existential concerns. I grew impatient with Irene and the impossible standards she set. I thought of all the other widows I had worked with, who would have given anything for any attention whatsoever paid by any of the men Irene had summarily rejected. I did my best to keep these sentiments to myself, but she missed nothing, not even my unexpressed thoughts, and grew angry at my wish that she become involved with a man. “You’re trying to force me to compromise!” she accused. Perhaps too she was sensing my growing alarm that she would never let me go. I believed that her attachment to me was a major factor in her refusing to engage a man. God, would I be burdened with her forever? Perhaps that was my penalty for having succeeded in becoming so important to her. And then Kevin entered her life.

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  As the train was about to start, some passengers said, ‘There is no room here, but you can shove him in if you like. He will have to stand.’ ‘Well?’ asked the young porter. I readily agreede, and he shoved me in bodily through the window. Thus I got in and the porter earned his twelve annas. The night was a trial. The other passengers were sitting somehow. I stood two hours, holding the chain of the upper bunk. Meanwhile some of the passengers kept worrying me incessantly. ‘Why will you not sit down?’ they asked. I tried to reason with them saying there was no room, but they could not tolerate my standing, though they were lying full length on the upper bunks. They did not tire of worrying me neither did I tire of gently replying to them. This at last mollified them. Some of them asked me my name, and made room for me. Patience was thus rewarded. I was dead tired, and my head was reeling. God sent help just when it was most needed. In that way I somehow reached Delhi and thence Calcutta. The Maharaja of Cassimbazar, the president of the Calcutta meeting, was my host. Just as in Karachi, here also there was unbounded enthusiasm. The meeting was attended by several Englishmen. Before the 31st July the Government announced that indentured emigration from India was stopped. It was in 1894 that I drafted the first petition protesting against the system, and I had then hoped that this ‘semi-slavery,’ as Sir W. W. Hunter used to call the system, would some day be brought to an end. There were many who aided in the agitation which was started in 1894, but I cannot help saying that potential Satyagraha hastened the end. For further details of that agitation and of those who took part in it, I refer the reader to my Satyagraha in South Africa. 138THE STAIN OF INDIGOChamparan is the land of King Janaka. Just as it abounds in mango groves, so used it to be full of indigo plantations until the year 1917. The Champaran tenant was bound by law to plant three out of every twenty parts of his land with indigo for his landlord. This system was known as the #tinkathis# system, as three #kathas# out of twenty (which make one acre) had to be planted with indigo. I must confess that I did not then know even the name, much less the geographical position, of Champaran, and I had hardly any notion of indigo plantations. I had seen packets of indigo, but little dreamed that it was grown and manufactured in Champaran at great hardship to thousands of agriculturists. Rajkumar Shukla was one of the agriculturists who had been under this harrow, and he was filled with a passion to wash away the stain of indigo for the thousands who were suffering as he had suffered.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  The term Leib reveals a much deeper generative meaning than does the purely physical Körper, which is not unlike “corpse.” A gift of trauma recovery is the rediscovery of the living, sensing, knowing body. The poet and writer D. H. Lawrence inspires us all with this reflection on the living, knowing body: My belief is in the blood and flesh as being wiser than the intellect. The body-unconscious is where life bubbles up in us. It is how we know that we are alive, alive to the depths of our souls and in touch somewhere with the vivid reaches of the cosmos. Trauma sufferers, in their healing journeys, learn to dissolve their rigid defenses. In this surrender they move from frozen fixity to gently thawing and, finally, free flow. In healing the divided self from its habitual mode of dissociation, they move from fragmentation to wholeness. In becoming embodied they return from their long exile. They come home to their bodies and know embodied life, as though for the first time. While trauma is hell on earth, its resolution may be a gift from the gods. Finally, Jack London describes the enlightenment afforded by meeting and transforming trauma. He writes, in The Call of the Wild, “There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.” This awakening of our life force, transmuted from survival to ecstatic aliveness, is truly the intrinsic gift laid at our feet and waiting to be opened through this journey of sweet surrender to the sensate world within, whether we are survivors of trauma or simply casualties of Western culture. * Recall from Chapter 6 that the parasympathetic branch is divided into a primitive (nonmyelinated) and an evolutionarily recent (myelinated) branch. T Epilogue oo much or too little? This question has quietly dogged me in the writing of In an Unspoken Voice. As one chapter was completed, two more suggested themselves; and so on. Finally, basta! At least for now. My solution to this hydra-like dilemma takes the form of gestating two more books. I am, perhaps, a little like the mother who, after experiencing the agonizing labor pains of birth, some months later, blithely thinks that it might be a good idea to have another child. I fear that I have fallen into that tender trap. After I have adequately recovered from the postpartum letdown of publishing this book, I have two subsequent projects in mind. Two areas that I felt were not sufficiently addressed in this book concern traumatic memory and the intimate relationship between trauma and spirituality. The first book planned is tentatively titled Memory, Trauma and the Body; the second will be called Trauma and Spirituality.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  JEROME. This may be always observed, both in the Old and New Testament, that when there is an appearance of any majestic person, the first thing done is to banish fear, that the mind being tranquillized may receive the things that are said. HILARY. The same order as of old now followed in the reversal of our woe, that whereas death began from the female sex, the same should now first see the glory of the Resurrection, and be made the messenger thereof. Whence the Lord adds, Go tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, there shall they see me. CHRYSOLOGUS. (ubi sup.) He calls them brethren whom He has made akin to His own body; brethren whom the generous Heir has made His co-heirs; brethren, whom He has adopted to be sons of His own Father. AUGUSTINE. (de Cons. Ev. iii. ult.) That the Lord, both by His own mouth, and by the Angel, directs them to seek for Him, not in that place in which He was to shew Himself first, but in Galilee, makes every believer anxious to understand in what mystery it is spoken. Galilee is interpreted ‘transmigration,’ or ‘revelationa’. And according to the first interpretation what meaning offers itself, save this, that the grace of Christ was to pass from the people of Israel to the Gentiles, who would not believe when the Apostles should preach the Gospel to them, unless the Lord Himself should first make ready their way in the hearts of men. This is the signification of that, He shall go before you into Galilee. There shall ye see him, means, there shall ye find His members, there shall ye perceive His living Body in such as shall receive you. According to the other interpretation, ‘revelation,’ it is to be understood, ye shall see him no longer in the form of a servant, but in that in which He is equal with the Father. That revelation will be the true Galilee, when we shall be like him, and shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:2.) That will be the blessed passing from this world to that eternity. 28:11–1511. Now when they were going, behold, some of the watch came into the city, and shewed unto the Chief Priests all the things that were done. 12. And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers, 13. Saying, Say ye, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept. 14. And if this come to the governor’s ears, we will persuade him, and secure you. 15. So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day.

• From In an Unspoken Voice (2010)

  In this way the (fear-immobility) feedback loop is broken; colloquially, it runs out of gas. As a client learns to experience the physical sensations of the immobility in the absence of fear, trauma’s grip is loosened, and equilibrium is restored. In the next four chapters, I discuss how therapists can help clients learn how to uncouple the fear from the immobility and restore active defensive responses. When clients achieve this, they often describe the physical sensation of immobility (in the absence of fear) with a mixture of curiosity and profound relief or, often, “as though waking from a nightmare.” There is an important caveat to this simple “prescription.” Where trauma has been lengthy and deeply entrenched, other factors come into play: primarily, one’s very faculty for change and reengagement in life becomes impaired. This aspect has been poignantly portrayed in Louise Erdrich’s compelling novel The Master Butchers Singing Club. In the first chapter, the male protagonist, Fidelis, leaves the trenches Charting Duration of Immobility Amongst Different Scenarios Figure 4.1a This figure illustrates the duration and severity of “freezing” in three situations. The first scenario is similar to an opossum being attacked and playing dead. The opossum freezes, and the predator, losing interest in this inert carrion, walks off in search of livelier prey. Left alone, the opossum “shakes off” this encounter and goes on its way, none the worse. This is called self-paced termination. The second scenario illustrates what happens when an animal emerging from immobility is restrained and frightened. It is thrust back into terror, and the immobility is far deeper, lasting for a much longer time. This paralyzing terror is the effect of fear-potentiated immobility and leads to PTSD. This is why the phrase “time heals all wounds” simply does not apply to trauma. The third scenario shows what happens in a successful therapy session. The therapist gradually guides the client to briefly touch into the immobility sensations, and then guides her to uncouple the immobility from the fear. In this way she can discharge the underlying hyperarousal and return to equilibrium. of World War I and returns to his mother’s cooking and kindness. He sleeps for the first time in his own familiar, comfortable bed, an experience that he has not known for years. Fear/Immobility Cycle Figure 4.1b This is how we become trapped in the fear/immobility cycle. Now that he was home, he understood, he must still be vigilant. Memories would creep up on him, emotions sabotaging his thinking brain. To come alive after dying to himself was dangerous.

• From The Day the Revolution Began (2016)

  They seem to sum up the way in which we humans get things horribly wrong, but at the same time they do so within a larger and more powerful context of meaning. When we come to more explicitly Christian presentations, the same point emerges all the more powerfully, especially when we notice how the cross, even though it’s such a simple symbol, somehow resists being turned into a mere cliché. In Roland Joffé’s award-winning 1986 movie The Mission , the cross in various forms haunts the whole narrative. The story begins with the death of one of the early Jesuit missionaries to the remote South American tribe of the Guarani. The tribesmen tie him to a wooden cross and send him over the vast Iguazu Falls, providing the movie with its poster image. The story ends with the massacre of the unresisting leaders, carrying the symbols of the crucifixion in procession, as the Portuguese colonial forces, bent on enslaving the natives rather than evangelizing them, close in and open fire. The meaning of the cross—especially its stark opposition to the world’s ways of power—is allowed to hang like a great question mark over the entire narrative. More explicit again are the many ways in which the cross has been described in the classics of Christian literature. In John Bunyan’s famous Pilgrim’s Progress (1678), the hero, Christian, is trudging along, weighed down with a huge burden. Eventually he comes to a place where, in Bunyan’s matchless description: There stood a Cross, and a little below in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my Dream, that just as Christian came up with the Cross, his Burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. . . . Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry heart, He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his death . Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was very surprizing to him, that the sight of the Cross should thus ease him of his Burden. 2 Let me give one more example, out of thousands of possible ones, of the way in which the crucifixion of Jesus appears to carry a power that goes way beyond any attempt to rationalize it away. A Roman Catholic archbishop (I have tried to discover which one, but so far without success; the story is well known) described how three mischievous young lads decided to play a trick on the priest who was hearing confessions in their local church. They took turns going into the confessional and “confessing” all sorts of terrible sins and crimes to see how the priest would react.

• From Story of O (1954)

  “I was afraid you didn’t love me any longer,” O said. He laughed. “All of a sudden, just like that?” “Yes, in the car coming back from …” “Coming back from where?” O remained silent. René laughed again: “But I know where you were, silly. Coming back from Anne-Marie’s. And in ten days you’re going to Samois. Sir Stephen just talked to me on the phone.” René was seated in the only comfortable chair in the office, which was facing the table, and O had buried herself in his arms. “They can do whatever they want with me, I don’t care,” she murmured. “But tell me you still love me.” “Of course I love you, darling,” René said, “but I want you to obey me, and I’m afraid you’re not doing a very good job of it. Did you tell Jacqueline that you belonged to Sir Stephen, did you talk to her about Roissy?” O assured him that she had not. Jacqueline acquiesced to her caresses, but the day she should learn that O … René stopped her from completing her sentence, lifted her up and laid her down in the chair where he had just been sitting, and bunched up her skirt. “Ah ha, so you have your corset,” he said. “It’s true that you’ll be much more attractive when you have a smaller waistline.” Then he took her, and it seemed to O that it had been so long since he had that, subconsciously, she realized she had begun to doubt whether he really desired her any longer, and in his act she saw proof of love. “You know,” he said afterward, “you’re foolish not to talk to Jacqueline. We absolutely need her at Roissy, and the simplest way of getting her there would be through you. Besides, when you come back from Anne-Marie’s there won’t be any way of concealing your true condition any longer.” O wanted to know why. “You’ll see,” René went on. “You still have five days, and only five days, because Sir Stephen intends to start whipping you again daily, five days before he sends you to Anne-Marie’s, and there will be no way for you to hide the marks. How will you ever explain them to Jacqueline?” O did not reply. What René did not know was that Jacqueline was completely egotistical as far as O was concerned, being interested in her solely because of O’s manifest, and passionate, interest in her, and she never looked at O. If O were covered with welts from the floggings, all she would have to do would be to take care not to bathe in Jacqueline’s presence, and to wear a nightgown. Jacqueline would never notice a thing. She had never noticed that O did not wear panties, and there was no danger she would notice anything else: the fact was that O did not interest her.

• From The Day the Revolution Began (2016)

  We can see this in some graphic recent examples. In many cultures and countries in the world “forgiveness” is seen as a sign of weakness. If someone has wronged you, you should get even! Justice has not been done! You have been robbed of your rights! I have seen people eaten up by that philosophy. It pervades every aspect of their lives. Every thought turns into a grudge, and every grudge clamors for revenge. And I have seen people who have given up that philosophy and discovered the healing power of forgiveness. It can and does happen. This always catches us by surprise, perhaps because it is the true and sure sign of the world still waiting to be fully birthed. When, in June 2015, relatives of the murder victims in Charleston, South Carolina, came face-to-face with the killer, several of them told him at once that they forgave him. Something similar happened after the Amish school shooting in October 2006. These incidents, widely reported, strike secular journalists and their readers as strange to the point of being almost incredible. Do these people really mean it? It is clear that they do. The forgiveness was unforced. It wasn’t said through clenched teeth, in outward conformity to a moral standard, while the heart remained bitter. Forgiveness was already a way of life in these communities. They were merely exemplifying and extending, in horrific circumstances, the character they had already learned and practiced. In fact, once again, the incredulity of many who heard those stories matches the incredulity of people in the first century, as well as in our own, when hearing the story of Jesus’s resurrection. And for the same reason. In both cases we are witnessing a new world coming to birth. Resurrection and forgiveness belong together. Both are the direct result of the victory won on the cross, because the victory won on the cross was won by dealing with sin and hence with death. Resurrection is the result of death’s defeat; forgiveness, the result of sin’s defeat. Those who learn to forgive discover that they are not only offering healing to others. They are receiving it in themselves. Resurrection is happening inside them. The wrong done to them is not permitted to twist their lives out of shape. Forgiveness isn’t weakness. It was and is a great strength. Resurrection and forgiveness together are vital for understanding the extraordinary and large-scale result of the victory won on the cross. The nations of the world were now set free to worship the one true God. Freedom

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  For him, having a woman meet him as a sexual equal takes away the burden of guesswork and the persistent insecurity of never being sure he’s doing it right. When she is more forthcoming, he doesn’t have to worry about her, and he no longer feels diminished by her placating, lukewarm response. Her exuberance gives him permission to make some demands of his own, and to experience unrestrained abandon with the woman he loves. Joni never did tell Ray the specific content of her fantasies, but unearthing their meaning nonetheless brought about significant changes in their sexual and emotional relationship. Once Joni knew what she was seeking in sex, and once she understood the personal and social barriers that stood in the way of her pleasure, she was able to approach and respond to Ray very differently. To me she said, “Now that I’m clearer about what sex means to me, and how I want to feel in sex, I can talk to Ray about it without having to spell out the fantasy. Although even doing that doesn’t seem as scary to me now—there’s nothing in there I’m ashamed of or afraid to face.” To Tell or Not to Tell Some couples get an erotic charge from sharing their fantasies in words or in enactments. Catherine and her husband scheme in naughty complicity when they plan out the details of their lascivious one-acts. This is fun, it’s novel, and it allows them to be (and be with) someone new without having to go somewhere else. It creates multiplicity out of monogamy. But not everyone wants a ticket to this theater of seduction. Disclosure is not a necessary part of working with fantasy. I don’t advocate a tell-all approach; not everyone would choose to live in an atmosphere of True Confessions. We may like to keep our imaginings to ourselves, not out of shame but out of an inchoate awareness that exposure to bright light will cause them to wither on the vine. Alternatively, we may be wise to dream alone, for we may not be on the same erotic wavelength as our beloved. Let’s take Nat and his girlfriend, Amanda, as an example. Nat’s fantasy life isn’t tucked away neatly in the privacy of his head; it’s evident in the tapes stacked in plain view on his video rack: Gang Bang 1, Gang Bang 2, Gang Bang 17, Gang Bang 50. His taste in pornography is unmistakable. He’s never felt a need to hide it, but neither has he felt a desire to share it. “It’s kind of a fetish for me. I don’t think people always understand their fetishes. Why do some people like shoes? I have no clue. I’ve tried to understand it, but I don’t.

• From Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006)

  So do our finances and work lives. Priorities shift, roles are redefined, and the balance between freedom and responsibility undergoes a massive overhaul. We literally fall in love with our babies and, as we once understood with our mates, falling in love is an all-consuming affair that pushes everything else aside. The making of a family calls for a redistribution of resources and, for a while, there seems to be less for the couple: less time, less communication, less sleep, less money, less freedom, less touch, less intimacy, less privacy. Even though couples talk about how happy they are as a growing family and how fulfilled they are individually, they nevertheless describe these shifts as taxing to their relationship. Eventually, most of us come to recognize ourselves again within this new context of family. At best, we become more adept at the basic skills of caretaking. We establish the support we need. We lay out a division of labor, both domestically and professionally, that everyone can live with. We arrange for child care; we bond with other parents; we steal time in bits and pieces and get brief intermissions for ourselves. With any luck, we sleep through the night. We start going to the gym again, we finish a magazine before the next issue arrives in the mail, and we manage to create some space where we can connect with each other as adults. For some of us, this is when romance starts to work its way back into the fabric of our lives. We remember that sex is fun; it makes us feel good, and it makes us feel closer. As my friend Clara said, “It’s easy to forget that before we were parents, we were lovers. Sex reaffirms that for us. It reminds me that I chose Meyer because I love him; I’d choose him again today. For me, that’s romantic.” But while some couples gravitate toward one another again, others slowly wander off on a path of mutual estrangement. Reclaiming erotic intimacy is not always easy. The case is often made that American parents today, regardless of class, are overworked and overwhelmed. As a consequence, we virtually schedule sex out of our lives, keeping it on permanent standby while we attend to more pressing matters. Family life can feel like ongoing triage: what needs my immediate attention, and what can I put off until later? We constantly sort conflicting demands into their appropriate hierarchical slots: The Crucial, The Important, The Dreamed of, The Ought-to, The Negligible, The Irrelevant, The Whatever, The Trifling, The “Maybe Someday,” The “Not in this lifetime.”

• From Story of O (1954)

  Obviously, Jacqueline could have chosen to have a lover to support her, and she had not lacked the opportunity. She had in fact had a lover or two, less because she liked them—not that she actually disliked them—than because she wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of provoking desire and inflaming a man to the point of love. The only one of the two—the second—who had been wealthy had made her a present of a very lovely pearl with a slight pink tint which she wore on her left hand, but she had refused to live with him, and since he had refused to marry her, she had left him, with no great regrets, merely relieved that she was not pregnant (she had thought she was, for several days had lived in a state of dread at the idea). No, to live with a lover was to lose face, to forsake one’s chances for the future, it was to do what her mother had done with Natalie’s father, and that was out of the question.