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Patterns

Patterns

Oct 20, 2024

Patterns

Looking for the thing that is different.

NOTE: Much of what I am writing about here comes from my work as a somatic experiencing practitioner and psychotherapist, as well as my own lived experience on the receiving end of these modalities.  I am not an educator, so any misrepresentation is all my own. If you want to do personal work in these areas, I suggest finding a practitioner to accompany you in the process.

Somatic Patterns

Often in somatic work, if a pattern or sequence keeps showing up and feels familiar (this always leads to that), then we might start to wonder – is there an over-coupling happening? What that means is that certain responses may have gotten wired together possibly because they fired together out of trauma response, a survival adaption, self-protection. So, our systems have developed a strong and protective habit – when I notice this sensation/feeling/experience, it goes right to this other sensation/feeling/experience. For example, when I notice something like anger/heat start to rise, my muscles in my jaw begin to tense around that experience. Usually, these over-coupled responses move very quickly and undetected unless we are doing the work of paying attention.  

When we start to unwind that process and get curious about it, firstly there can be a suspicion from the system itself. After all, it’s this over-coupled response that has ostensibly kept the person safe in some way, even if it causes other kinds of struggle, stress and pain. When we start to slowly untangle that pattern, it can release trauma physiology that was bound in there (anger, fear, etc…), which in itself can take time to work through, allowing space for the movement and expression of things that never got a chance to be expressed.

Ultimately and hopefully, after working through this experience, we may feel our own aliveness returned to us in a way that we aren’t used to. We may feel less exhaustion from all the “protecting” that our system has been doing. We may feel more access to emotions we haven’t before. I am saying all of this in a simple direct way to describe it, but in no way does that mean the journey of it is simple and direct. It can take a long time and it’s natural to move away from and towards the process many times. And we may even decide not to untangle certain things, and that’s okay, too.

What I have been attending to lately in this work, is keeping a look out for the thing that is different. If these protective patterns are familiar and habitual, we can learn to be attentive when something different shows up – a new sensation, emotion, perspective. When we notice something we haven’t seen before, we can take a moment to explore it; it could be something that has been off the radar (under-coupled) and in fact potentially helpful and resourceful. In the example above, if we can tolerate a bit more of the anger/heat before our jaw muscles tense around it, we may find that we are able to put words on that sensation, like “No” or “I don’t like that.”It can feel scary to look for what is different. Our brains usually perceive different as threatening on some level, so again it takes time and doing the work in small pieces to develop enough safety to allow for the different thing.

Inter-generational Patterns

If we take a wider view and look at how it shows up not just in our bodies, but in our lives, I think of inter-generational patterns. When we find ourselves saying “this is just how I am,” or “this is what my family does,” we might be seeing some of those familiar survival adaptation patterns showing up as our personalities or how our families relate to each other. The somatic abolitionist Resmaa Menakem says “trauma decontextualized in a person looks like personality… in a family looks like family traits… in a people looks like culture.” When trauma isn’t recognized or seen for what it is, or supported in healing, it can start to be misperceived over time from within and without. 

It doesn’t mean it’s all bad or that we need to throw everything out. In fact, there are likely great resources and resilience in those adaptions that are important and useful to have, a strength. For example, when we are threatened, we want our body to protect us; when we are in a new place, we want to have a sense of keen awareness and boundaries. It’s just that when those survival mechanisms are kicking in all the time, whether they need to or not, that there may be room for other choices and possibilities. The purpose of those adaptations may no longer be present in the same way. Nervous system work is really about flexibility, choice and capacity in our systems, not about throwing one thing out to cling to another. 

Creative Patterns

This is a long and winding way to say that when we notice something different from our usual patterns and habits, it may be worth exploring. We don’t need to be working with trauma in order to do that, that’s just my way of exploring these concepts in my work. They can show up in our creative processes as well. When I dance, I may find myself in the same patterns and movements – going in the same direction, making the same gestures.

When I am writing, I may notice I use the same phrases, words or form. If I can look for the surprise, when I can catch myself off guard, when I am disinhibited enough to allow something new to emerge, that may be worth paying attention to. 

What familiar and habitual patterns do you feel curious about in your own life and creativity?

Is there anything different that you noticed today, no matter how small or subtle? A sensation you weren’t aware of before, a sound in the nature around you, the way you handled a difficult situation, or a word you used in a poem that you’ve never used before?

References:

Somatic Experiencing: www.traumahealing.org, www.somaticexperiencing.com
Resmaa Menakem: My Grandmother’s Hands, www.resmaa.com

October and Ancestors

October and Ancestors

Oct 4, 2024

October and Ancestors

October – the season of change, of decay and dying; not dead yet, but on its way.

October, the season of wind and darkness, of shifting time.

Literal time shifts – the night gets darker, morning too, and the clocks will eventually change. And the other kind of time begins to shift as well – the otherworld gets closer, the darkness and the veil begin to surround us. Whispers through the worlds find our hearts, letting us know we are not alone.

The otherworld tells me of its presence: I am here. You are not alone. There are so many of us, known and unknown to you, here as close as the dark, as close as the fall breeze, as close as the falling leaves underfoot. We are here, lean back into our holding, let us catch you.

Ancestors. 

Back and back and back again.

Those I have names for and those I do not. They can reach forward from the other side, through the veil with their wishes and their wisdom – have this, hold this to your heart. It may feel at times that the circle right around you is all you have, but there are ripples of us, rings of love going back through time, ready to fill in empty spaces, answer questions that plague your heart, listen to deep longings that are still yet wordless, and give the yearnings of your soul a place at the table.

Even if the details of us are gone, hard to find and track down, lost in archives or burnt in churches hundreds of years ago, we are still here. Right here, in this shifting season, in this walk into deep time. The fire is lit, and we are waiting.

I tell myself to remember that the hearth is the place of gathering, the place of cooking and story-telling, of sleeping and mending, of healing and silence. It is the flame we gather around to hold us in connection. It is the fire within us that has been lit from the hearth that keeps us connected into ourselves. The flame passed down through centuries, across oceans, in births and in deaths. In this shifting time, as the veil is reachable and the darkness holds us, each fire, each flame, is a signal of our ancestors’ presence, like a hand on the heart. We are here.

Slowing down and orienting to our senses

Slowing down and orienting to our senses

Sep 5, 2024

Slowing Down and Orienting to our Senses

I was out on a recent Saturday afternoon walking the dog. The weather was almost sublime, and we were walking on one of my favorite streets – quiet, beautiful homes and gardens, hardly a car. It’s the kind of street you can stroll down the middle of and let the leash long. It’s the kind of street that makes you want to slow down and breathe. But what I noticed on this particular Saturday was an internal rush. Some deep sense of urgency and unconscious quickening of pace, tugging a little on the leash, “come on buddy let’s go.”

And why? It was Saturday and I had nowhere to be and nothing to do. There was no need to get back to anything or cut the walk short; no need to hurry us along. And yet it was so hard for my body, my nervous system and even my mind to just go easy and slow. What was I rushing onto? To get home and look at my phone or my computer? To get home and putter around the house? To get home and feel unable to relax there for no reason?

I had to consciously say to myself, slow down and look around. I had to remind myself – it’s okay to take your time. As I slowed my pace, leaned my head back to look at the canopy of trees and blue sky, listen to the birdsong, my body took a spontaneous deep breath. It’s as if by whole being was sighing in relief. I softened my grip on the leash and leaned into the slight humidity in the air. I turned my attention to what was around me and my body almost immediately felt more at ease.

One of the essential aspects of Somatic Experiencing is a practice called orientation. It’s one of the first things we learn in the training and one of the first things we might do with clients. It’s a practice of turning our attention to what we are noticing via our senses, the here and now. We might start with letting our eyes go where they want to in our space, letting them take in what they want with no agenda and to just see what they see. It could also start with the sense of sound, hearing what you hear in your space; it could also be tactile – feeling the texture of something in the space.

In essence the practice of orientation brings us right into the present through our senses, and in some way gives our nervous system the information that it’s okay to notice what is here now, there isn’t danger or threat that I have to be vigilant about in this moment. Many times, when we take a moment to orient, we will notice a shift in our experience. Maybe there will be a deeper breath, or our shoulders will relax or we will just feel more “in the room.” The ability to tune into our environment right in the here and now can help our system settle.

In a way, it’s what was happening on my walk. I had to consciously choose to stop and orient or my nervous system and body would likely have continued its “rush agenda,” but in choosing to slow down and orient to the sights and sounds, I could breathe differently, and I could be more present in that moment.

It sounds like a simple practice, but it can be quite profound and can also take time and practice to even feel like it’s okay to pause and orient to our surroundings. So if you want to try to do it yourself, be gentle; try it first maybe in a moment when you don’t feel particularly stressed or pressured. Try it in a moment where there is already some space for relaxation, maybe even while you are outside on a beautiful day. See which sense is the easiest to tune into and what it’s like to notice what that sense is noticing. Maybe you will even be aware of a shift inside that feels like a sigh of relief.

At the very least your dog might be grateful to not have to rush home so soon!

What if you didn’t try so hard?

What if you didn’t try so hard?

Aug 6, 2024

What if you didn’t try so hard?  What if you could do less, even less?

As a recovering perfectionist, the idea of not trying so hard has been an ongoing journey with many phases, levels, layers, and revelations. As someone who showed early signs of developing an ulcer in the 7th grade, trying to be good, right, and perfect was a deep knot to untie.

I was telling a friend recently about my experience in grad school with a professor who let us choose our grades. If we wanted an A, these were the assignments; if we wanted a B, then these were the required assignments; if we wanted a C, then these. The first semester I had him, of course I went for an A, why wouldn’t I?  But the second semester I took one of his classes, I chose a B.  Some tiny space of letting go had opened by that point in myself to consider it could be, not just okay, but beneficial to my well-being to choose a B. And it was. The deep knot began to loosen even more, and in the loosening, more aliveness and life could enter. In my body, good/right/perfect manifests as tension, rigidity, and constriction through the many layers of muscle, tissue, and fascia.

In my movement practice (5Rhythms), the dance floor has offered a tangible place to explore letting go.  Whether it’s the big movements of my body shaking and head releasing, or the more subtle ways my holding back or carrying tension can surrender to my feet, to the beat. There is no other smile like the one I feel coming from inside when my body actually stops trying and doing and lets itself be moved.

When I was dancing this past weekend, following the impulse to move from within, not to force anything, I heard the facilitator say into the space, into our dancing cells, “what if you could not try so hard?” Something deep in my tissue let go, my face softened, tears rolled over the ridges of my eyes.

Really? Is it really that okay, to just do a little less? Maybe it’s worth finding out.

Listening to the Layers

Listening to the Layers

May 21, 2024

Listening to the Layers

One of the reasons I am drawn to somatic work and to depth/dream work similarly is the acknowledgment of and working with layers. Whether it’s layers of meaning, layers of experience, layers of interpretation, layers of how we take in information, layers of personal and collective, both worlds (somatic and depth/dream work), invite in the truth and reality of layers. Recognizing and engaging with layers is one way to deepen our relationship to ourselves and the world around us.

Somatic Work

When I am doing somatic work and listening to someone describe sensation, I may also be listening to how they show up in relationships, or how they feel about their work, or what their hopes are for their future. Perhaps what is showing up as an impulse or sensation in the body evokes an image for someone or for me that links us to another aspect of their experience and how to work with it. Our bodies and psyches can speak to us often in non-linear and non-verbal ways, and if we can catch that communication, it may offer us more information about what is going on in that moment.

Even in dreamwork, we have the layers of the action and characters of the dream, but there is also what they represent in us and to us, what they speak to or embody archetypally, what they are bringing to the surface that has been unconscious in us. There may be more than one answer or one frame to what is attempting to speak to us, to get our attention, and to be known.

And why not live with more meaning, more potential for depth in our lives? What could open up for us if we listen to the way our dreams show up in our lives, or the way we experience connections in conversations or podcasts we hear, or images that we see? When our body is having an experience, can we listen with ears of depth, listening for what it may be communicating?

Like a poem, with layers of expression and interpretation, from ordinary to mythic, can we listen to the poetics of our lives, let there be meaning beyond the first layer we meet? Maybe it will bring what has been in the shadows, the dark, out of sight into view. It won’t always be pleasant, or easy to navigate; in fact, opening up to more of ourselves will likely lead to some disruption of our equilibrium and organizing impulses, but we might also discover more aliveness in ourselves and our connection with others and the world.

What could you create in your own life by listening more deeply to the layers of your being?

Mourning Dove

Mourning Dove

Mar 8, 2024

Two Mourning Doves

At the end of 2023, I got to participate in a beautiful writing workshop by Sylvia Lindsteadt.  One of the exercises was to write a short piece of mostly metaphors about something in nature we’ve encountered around our home. We read the poem, Vixen, by W.S. Merwin, as inspiration (do check it out). I chose the mourning dove, who just that past fall had perched and nested outside our guest bedroom window to hatch two baby mourning doves.

Mourning Dove

Keening woman
Weaver of the dark cry
Devotee of the line between life and death
Gaze-holding protector
Mama bear with wings
Creator of the precarious home, perched milk maiden
Stalwart songstress, painting caves of forgetting
Nesting magician, world-maker, whisperer of swift farewells

Is there a creature, a tree, or a flower that you encounter around your home or neighborhood that might inspire you to write a short metaphor-filled dedication?