Focusing the Beam
At first, my voice cracked the surface of the icy winter air, an intricacy of sound lines forming designs into the crispness of the night. If it was not for the resolute darkness, I would have seen my breath, puffing and white before me, but all I could see was darkness and a few darker forms that represented my hiking companions. Soon the icy-tin sound of my voice warmed into a richer sound, like the sound of a Hot Toddy soothing the throat.
There we were, three of us, cold and merged into the darkness of a moonless night. One of my companions had chosen not to continue the hike. The terrain was about to get touchy and she was worried about her footing (rightfully so). So one other and I decided to wait with her for the group to track back and head to our campsite. The three of us decided to see what experiencing the cold night would be like without the facade of flashlight beams.
Enviably our murmured conversation led to hypnosis and suggestion work. Would hypnosis work to create a sense of warmth on this cold night? Why not, I thought to myself. Why not use my skills to make things a little more comfortable? Holding up one of our Surefire Flashlights in the solitary darkness, I had them focus on the the beam for an eye fixation induction.
What I had not thought about was the notion of how I could pace them and see their reactions, taking cues from body language. It was one of those interesting moments, when one becomes aware just how much they rely on one tool. I had slipped into the comfort of this induction and the practice of noticing visual cues. I felt my voice wanting to waver in its steady cadence as I made this discovery. Yet, it remained smooth, as I compensated for my lack of visualization. I continued to count down, giving the suggestion for eyes to close when they were too heavy to remain open and deepened my own trance. I also suggested that we open the door to our own connectedness by imagining a campfire we had all enjoyed a few weeks previously.
As the night sounds around us shifted and footsteps, strands of vocal noise began to breakthrough the crackle of a past campfire, I slowly brought my compatriots back to normal consciousness (feeling warmer). Rejoining our group headed back for a new campfire, the three of us lagged behind, still aglow with our time together.
“I think I like hypnosis better than hiking,” said my friend who had been the catalyst of the experience.
As I continue to remain in bed, fighting the battle of the sneeze, I have had some time to reflect upon recent events. The one I just shared with you is from the hike I took a few weekends ago and froze during the night. I write this now as both a reminder for myself and for others to check how we do things. I had a wake-up call that I was maybe relying too much on one tool. Comfort zones can sometimes make us dull and staid and who wants that?
