The Transparent Hypnotist

Photograph by Łukasz Strachanowski (cc)

Life seems brighter this week. The quality of light has changed, there is a coolness to the mornings, and I feel very much alive. Maybe it was a week spent in nature. Maybe it is the idea of new prospects on the horizon. I have a feeling of hopefulness about everything (come to think about it, maybe it was a week away from the pessimism of television that is influencing my mood). Maybe it is because I have been trying out David Mason’s 10 Steps to Happiness. Maybe it is because I have been maintaining my goal to do self-hypnosis everyday (with simple, positive suggestions to help me with various concerns as they arise). Whatever the case, I am filled with something other than restlessness, something positive and directing. I am not sure where the pull of the path with lead but it will be interesting to follow its dictates.

Something I have been experiencing lately is how I deal with the question – does hypnosis work? In my first years as a hypnotist, when someone would ask me this question (and they always ask me this), I would exuberantly launch into a diatribe filled with hypnosis enthusiasm. As the years have progressed, I find the question a little more annoying, but realize it is a way to connect with someone else, a way to educate. But recently, when people ask me this, darker thoughts occur. Would I be involved in a profession that offers nothings but scams and hollow promises (that is an emphatic NO)? Why would someone ask me “does hypnosis work?” Do you ask your doctor if his or her advice will “really work” (well maybe)? Do you ask your sanitation workers if the chemicals they use will really remove the dirt?

In my week away, while engaging in self-hypnosis, I asked myself why this question annoyed me so much. The answer came back that it takes a lot of energy to create change. In a career where everything is about change, I had lost sight of the fact that I am not only helping those who seek my services to achieve inner-change, but also helping change the face of hypnotism itself. Sure I come across the occasional person outside my field who is somewhat knowledgeable in the realities of hypnosis, but that sort of person is still not the prevailing population. That means that I have to maintain enough energy to have a realistic discourse on hypnosis with most people I meet. Sometimes my energy wains as I find myself repeating and re-repeating myself.

That is awful, isn’t it? I know. And so, that is one thing I worked on last week - rather than giving all my energy away on those conversations, I can gain energy from other people’s interest in what I do for a living. Today, I feel like this is all possible.

Photograph by gutter (cc)

There it was before me – my web site on one screen, this blog on another. Normally, this would not seem particularly strange, but it was not the blog as you see it (I hope). Both were opened to my admin. panels - my private admin. panels. It looked as though I had logged on and was getting ready to either make some changes or write a post. My brain hastened to justify this. During a previous late night session had I left myself logged on to both and forgotten to log out? Sure, that was it. I breathed deeply. No, wait, the night before, my nephew and I had gone out for a late dinner. We had come home and I had gone off to bed. No, there was no blogging at all.

My nephew handed me a cup of coffee, “Still blurry, eh, Aunt Ellie?” I took the coffee and sat down at the laptop, still feeling even more hazy. Perhaps this was just a bad dream?

“Why are my web site and blog open to the admin. panels?” is all that I could manage for a good morning greeting.

He looked snarky, yes, that is the word – snarky, “Last night you didn’t seem to believe that I am a hacker, did you?”

The conversation from the night before came back in a dribble of memory. I had more or less passed by his comment, supposing it to be youthful bravado. My lack of belief now was apparently catching up to me.

Remaining calm and hoping that my original, life-long assertion that my nephew was not malevolent was still correct, I asked, “Did you do anything to my sites?”

He looked theatrically stunned, “Aunt Ellie, I am hurt. Do you believe I would do anything to your sites?” Visions of stop watches, swirls and such danced through my mind. I merely glanced at him with raised eyebrows (some times I can act like the elder I am supposed to be). He then hit a few keystrokes and the presentation part of the blog and web site took the screens. They looked normal. They looked like I had left them.

“It is what I do, Aunt Ellie, ” he told me with what seemed like sincerity.

“Great. Just great. My own nephew, is a cyber rogue. Hasn’t you father taught you better than this?” I asked feeling incredulous. Would my humble home suddenly become a haven of hackers, degenerates, and perhaps an infiltrating cyber cop?

He actually looked hurt, “You have it all wrong. Being a hacker now days does not mean I am going to wipe out people’s sites, leaving cryptic messages that will lead to my eventual demise. It does not mean spreading viruses. It means just the opposite. I am all about IT Security. I am the good guy.”

I did what I always do – I took a long, slow sip of coffee, using the pause to collect my thoughts. Nope. I was still puzzled. Hackers are the good guys now? My nephew continued to explain. Like everything, there is the bad side (the one which got the rise out of me) and the good side. He has learned how to hack into various cyber systems (apparently one of his preparatory teachers showed him how to do this - great). Instead of doing damage, he freelances himself out to various companies to hack into their systems so that that the companies know their security weaknesses. My nephew is what is termed as an “ethical hacker.” Apparently it is a new career field (or an old one and I am just a bit out of it).

He stilled snarky, “You out of all people should understand,” he tells me, “you are into behavior modification. You just need to modify your thoughts on hacking. And like you are a certified hypnotist, I am a Certified Ethical Hacker” Perfect. My own nephew preaches the good book of hypnosis at me.

Needless to say, I felt great relief from all this – but then my curiosity also became involved. Is this not the same thing as hiring robbers to rob your bank to see what happens? Maybe this is not a bad idea. As he showered, I looked up The International Council of Electronic Commerce Consultants (EC-Council). They deal with teaching students to understand hacking cycles, offer an interesting training modality (online e-courses), and provide subjects like security fundamentals, ethical hacking, penetration testing, computer forensics, disaster recovery and secure programming. Sounds more Batman than the Joker.

But the points remains - he still hacked my web sites. Was that ethical?

His response? “Sure it is. This is what ethical hacking is all about. Now you know you know your site weakness.” Hmmm.

Or How A Piece Of Plastic May Change My Life

Photograph by sergis blog (cc)

My name is Ellie Blunt and I am a clutter-aholic. 

I say this with conviction to the crowded-yet-empty room. In my mind, the observer sits, head propped in her hands, pushing her glasses back onto her nose bridge. The critic is posed on the edge of her seat, notebook in hand and has begun to scribble something. The logical part of me paces back and forth and the creative side, runs her finger’s through her hair, ready to problem solve. She thinks she is a team player, but is often at odds with Reason (aka logic). 

I have their attention with my introduction and they respond with “Hello Ellie.”  Then there is a pause, exquisite silence and I enjoy it. 

The critic is the first to speak, “That is true Ellie, you are a clutter-aholic. Everything is piled up everywhere. How can you live in this mess?”

“It is a sign of creativity. She is constantly working on stuff,” my creative side comes to my defense.

“But is that the most productive way?” asks Reason.

The observer watches all this without comment.

This is a conversation I often have with myself when things get busy-crazy. These are the sides of me I commune with during self-hypnosis and very often each serves its purpose well…until they gang up on me. The most recent incident was when I went shopping to stock up on tea for the office. My normally organized purse was in its own state of crisis and this became known to everyone in the grocery store when I had to go excavating not only for my credit card, but also for my “user loyalty card” (yes, I want those points to save on my gas expenses). Out flew old receipts, lipstick, cell-phone, eye drops, Aspirin vials, and a few unmentionables. All this trouble was to save a few cents on a gallon of gas. Was it worth it? 

The answer is yes. Yes, all the ungraceful moments of my life circumstances leaking out of my purse for the world to see was worth the trouble. Sure, I will save a tad on my next tank of petrol. But, the incident in question tells me something more is going on inside me. I have let some hecticness filter in and affect me. I am not taking enough time out for myself (I do not believe I meditated yesterday). It also reeks of a need to simplify again, to reconsider a new organizational system (I do like a good system).

As I pulled out my abundant key ring (remembering I had my loyalty card attached to it), the wad of plastic and metal seemed really overbearing. There was a sudden flashback of trying to find my office supply store card on it, only to realize it had worn away and had released itself into the wilds of the world, becoming another piece of plastic litter. Unacceptable. 

While perusing buzzpond.com, I found a potential solution, a new system for organizing loyalty cards. The name of this fabulous thing is simply The KeyRing Thing. Basically, it lists all your loyalty card barcodes on one card (holding a total of six loyalty cards), thus combining a series of annoying little plastic tags or several cards that take up space. The reality is, you could probably make one card yourself by combining all the tags and laminating them onto card stock. But for a small shipping and handling fee (about $2 a card), this could be a really useful piece of plastic to carry around (provided you can find your wallet in your purse or briefcase - lol).

As a hypnotist, I appreciate things that easily modify behavior, whether you trance out for it or not. Therefore, I have ordered said card and will give it a go. My creative self is still thinking it would be fun to make my own card, but Reason has won this one (this is cleaner, neater, and by the time I buy the card stock and lamination supplies, the cost will well exceed $2). My inner critic seems satisfied and is taking a coffee break and the observer? Well, she is always watching.

Visit KeyRingThing to learn more.

 
Photograph by a.drian

For all those who inquired about my accident yesterday (my quick trip down the stairs), thank you for your well wishes! I am a bit sore today, but doing quite fine. Yet, I did go to the doctor yesterday (I grow old, I grow old). But this is where my story grows complex.

A year or so ago, I ran into complications with having health insurance and found myself without such for a bit of time. Since that particular little nuisance, I have had an interesting time (as in the fortune cookie saying “May you live in interesting times”) with doctors. I had one who was so completely intrigued with the idea that I am a hypnotist that she forgot I was the patient. Another stopped taking my insurance. 

Alas, I found myself recently without doctors. Who would have thought such a thing possible? They are everywhere. Buildings are full of them. Surely there would be a doctor out there that would be perfect for me? In a recent post, I applauded a woman who came back for extraordinary odds, partially because she picked the right medical team (yes, yes, yes, hypnotism was a part of it). I thought she was brilliant. I had no idea how hard a task that really was. Since I marveled at her genius, I though I would take a cue from her and be selective in my physician care.

Instead of happily choosing from a vast number of potential candidates, I rather felt like I ran the gauntlet. I checked my insurance provider list. I did internet searches on each potential primary care physician. I made notes about what I found (one was a soccer mom on the side, one was thinking about going into politics, one was a Christian, one was criticized for being a woman-hater) and found the potential list narrowed. Then I called the few remaining names on the list. 

As it turns out, finding a doctor is not as simple as doing some basic homework, making a call, determining if said doctor is seeing new clients, and making an appointment. Instead, I was asked a million questions by a seemingly dispassionate voice at the other end of the phone connection. They would take my health information, consult with the doctor and the rest of the staff, and decide if I was a good fit for them. Mind you, this is without actually seeing my medical history or meeting me. Good grief. 

Now granted, as a hypnotist, there have been clients that I have referred to other hypnotists, councilors, doctors, or clergy. I did this usually after actually meeting with the client, discussing their expectations, hope for outcomes, and basic mental health information. I do know my limits. I have also passed on a client or two who I had issues developing proper rapport (I make a terrible dominatrix). But with each of the clients I passed on, I hated to do it. They had come to me for help, and I passed. But ultimately, my passing was their gain, I believe. They received the help they really needed, not just something to sooth my ego.

But this doctor thing, now this seems strange to me. I understand passing a client on to a specialist, but ultimately, I am in good health. I would not be a lot of trouble and what this reeks of to me (call me paranoid) is insurance ugliness. With times the way they are, maybe they only take clients that will be more profitable (i.e. - has more issues than a bruised tail bone). Maybe I do not fit into a demographic. And here is the thing…I discovered this morning that I have been rejected by one of the doctors. They do not feel they can accommodate me at this time. No reason, just a recorded computer message.

Has anyone else had similar doctor issues?

Did I find a doctor? Yes. I found a new practice that had opened within the year. The doctor has a history of being an emergency room physician. She agreed to see me straight out and is very compassionate, is not intimidated by holistic medicine, and makes me feel welcome as her patient. 

Photograph by ian boyd

If you could have heard the sound track of my life this morning, it would have been described as the following:

The Ellie Blunt Morning of April 14, 2009 Orchestration Notes
The silence of pre-dawn is subtly intruded upon by a few notes of the flute (imitating a bird song). Clarinets, oboes, and a few violins very softly begin to play in a grave tempo. Slowly an accelerando occurs, moving the timing to largo and then an adagio. Our protagonist (the transparent hypnotist) is slowly becoming conscious as the sun rises. Then there is the discord of sound created by a violin, emulating the sound of a hungry cat trying to wake up her mistress. As the protagonist begins to rise the tempo perks up to allegretto, and as she gets out of bed and puts on her robe, the true tempo – allegro – comes to fruition. Here all the instruments are engaged in an upbeat sound using major cords. The rhythm gallantly follows her footsteps down the stairs, staccato-like. Then all the magnificent sounds of harmony fall into quick discord, as the protagonist, yet again falls down her stairs. The once happy sounds end with a cacophony of noise that eventually melds into a dirge. The refrain is heard in the minor scale. She slowly drags herself through the morning ritual of feeding the cat, finding coffee, and sits down her at laptop. The movement ends in the minor key.

So, dear readers, I hope you will forgive me for not having anything inspirational to say at the moment. The day must go on, but all my intellectual thoughts about what to write here, fell away as I slid down the stairs, and felt the aches and pains of such an action.

Now I must slowly (and carefully) work my way back up the stairs to put on professional clothes, reconsider my heels (in favor of my comfy Merrells), find some aspirin, and ascertain if I need to go to the (gasp and sigh with a touch of “oh no”) doctor.

*For those music aficionados out there, I apologize for any misusage of terminology. Alas, this is why I am a hypnotist and not a musician.

Call me trivial, call me real, but if you are here at this very moment looking for an update to the hypno world news, you are on the right blog. I should say you are on the right blog but during a crunch time for the hypnotist who writes this blog. Morning arrived and upon opening my eyes to the world, life has excellerated. A splash of tea, a bit of toast. I should be wearing jogging shoes, not heels.

It is warm out in the world and I find I am ready for the hopefulness that spring brings. My clothes are not. My somewhat infamous white linen suit is hanging on the shower rack, smelling of lavender and mothballs (one can never be to careful). It also no longer fits me as I would have preferred (well only if magically it would fit my frame). Close to losing ten pounds at the moment, it sags a bit in unflattering ways.

So, dear reader forgive me, as I race out to Sears for their clearance sale (75 - 80% off, which is happening from now until April 18, 2009) featuring clothes from the winter and fall. I have my eye on a nice little set that was featured this fall (see above). As I am still in the process of losing more weight, I just cannot bring myself to buy anything full price.

Depending on the time, I may return to the hypno world news a bit later or tomorrow. See you soon.

Photograph by 23am.com

I am walking through a shallow and gently flowing river. The coolness of the water is pleasant, soothing. The tide gently caress my lower legs and the contrast of the warm afternoon sun shining upon my upper body is compared to the water is completely relaxing. I walk on rocks, smoothed by tides and time, until I reach the center of the river. There in the dazzling sun light is a large rock, big enough for me to stretch out upon. I put my hiking boots down upon it, and settle myself onto the rock. I keep one leg dangling down into the coolness of the water.

This is a place I go often in my reveries during self-hypnosis. It is a place of sanctuary and healing. But it is also a real place (actually it is several places). As the weather grows warmer, the old Ellie-itch is starting to nag. I am alive! I am so ready to go for a good, long hike. A little nature, a few friends, no technical toys (except for modern hiking gear). Yes!

Sigh. But, I am torn. I need to visit some of my relatives again. This is a more difficult prospect because like hiking and camping, it means going to a technological dead zone. Unlike camping, I feel a terrible disconnect from my life when I am there. Internet is sparse. Telephone lines sound of static, not to mention that mobile phone service is also a bit absent). And it is hard to look at these time as a vacation because my family’s daily chores are exhausting (not to mention the cramming of stuff I have to do in advance to be able to travel there).

So, there is a ritual that also happens before I go. It is a standard conversation.

“Did you get cable yet?” I ask my aunt on one of the rare occasions that I can hear her through the static.

“Ellie, I wish you would stop asking me that. You know we would have to have the yard dug up to put in the cables. That is too much yard and it would take to long to landscape it. We are old, Ellie. That is the sort of thing we do not want to do with the time we have left.”

Right. Then I usually counter with if you had cable, you would have faster internet and we could stay more in touch that way. Sometimes my aunt actually humors me with, “that would be nice, wouldn’t it?” I am pretty sure she loathes the dial up they have now and rarely use.

“What about satellite?” I ask working to release the frustration from my voice without her noticing.

“Too expensive, luv. Your uncle and I live on a budget, don’t you know.” And all my thoughts of fast internet, of blogging while out of town, of keeping up with the business, feeling in touch with the world (they could watch BBC America, too) fade into a muddy, irksome puddle. Then the puddle ripples.

“What if it were cheaper than cable? What if it meant not destroying your yard? What if it meant clear pictures on the tele, no pixelated screens (okay, I describe pixelated to her) that your friends at the senior center complain about? Then would you consider it?”

This time around my ritual has changed, though. This time with the Dish Network new pricing of $9.99 a month, I have printed out the material. Beside me sits an envelope addressed to my uncle (oh yeah, I know, I KNOW he is the one who will make the final decision). The information will go into that envelope, as will a long, penned letter explaining it all to him (oh and how are you?). I must remember to tell him that occasionally there is a pay-per-view option for watching cricket. He would like that.

Will they give into my ritual? I do not know. But for now, it gives me hope. It may not be as relaxing as my rock in the middle of the river, but it would be nice to feel connected to the rest of the living world when I indulge in my family obligations.

Photograph by tea..

Inhaling through my nose, I filled myself with the warm afternoon sunlight as though it were air. Breathing deeply, one could say this was a great allergy-free day for me. My contacts felt fairly natural and I appauled myself for my dedication to weening myself off allergy medication with the help of a teaspoon of honey in my morning tea everyday.

These were my thoughts as I walked into my optometrist’s office yesterday. All was well and right in my world. Then the eye doctor did her magic (with drops of this and that) and asked, “Are you having a bad allergy day?”

I paused, “No, it is a pretty good day.”

“Really?” her eyebrows raised in a bit of disbelief. As it turned out, my respiratory system was doing quite well without the allergy pills, but my eyes were not. Apparently my membranes and such were puffy and swollen and the Corneal area looked as though I had been scraping it with sandpaper. Chapped, was another word she used. I had heard of chapped lips, even a chapped nose, but chapped eyes?

I have been having contact problems for some time now and had finally made an appointment to have my eyes checked. I am not sure what I expected, maybe that I would be allergic to the contacts themselves?

By the end of what turned out to be a long eye session, I found myself with new rituals to do daily for the next week before she will consent to changing my prescriptions or ordering my contacts (I do not write this in bitterness, I am relieved to have an eye doctor who will help me fix the problem, my last eye doctor was not so sufficient). Now I must go back on antihistamine pills, take allergy eye drops twice a day, and more or less not wear contacts for the week. How will my vanity ender?

The she said with a wink, “Or you could just try hypnosis.” She admitted she is not a holistic sort of girl, so I think she was just teasing me. However, I admit that there is a part of me that is seriously thinking about using hypnosis. I really do not want to go back to the world I just emerged from, the one where I am completely depended on allergy medication. Yet, I have paid dear money to this woman for her learned advice.

Here is my compromise. I will follow these daily rituals for the week. In addition to them, I will use self-hypnosis to help promote healing. Depending on what the doctor says next week, I may try to keep just the eye drops for awhile and self-hypnosis for allergy relief in general. We will see how that goes.

Photograph by Shaun Roberts

The flash of metallic tingling races through my tired body as I flip on the kitchen light. Reaching down to pet the cat, electric static makes us both draw back, feeling minute pain rather than the pleasure of a good morning. Now I find the computer acting persnickety as well. I spent half and hour trying to leave a comment for a friend and accidently sent him a rough draft of a paper I was working on. Yikes (however these days, I seem to be having more and more trouble leaving comments on blogger…is the big blue G involved with this?). Over at Izea, I find their links taking me in circles, never quite were I want to go.

But persevering online, I notice something on scour.com, which I have been using as a search engine. It is a little red link at the top, right side of the page. It says “contest winner.” A few weeks ago, I did one of my “Ellie Animations” for this contest. Well, I never heard one word from them and yes, obviously I did not win. Clicking on the “contest” link, the winner is a wonderful entry that features some pretty delightful photography. I believe I would have chosen this piece, too. But to make sure, I click on the link to see all the other entries. Guess what. My entry is not there. What? Was it the reference to the evil empire of the big blue G? Probably. Its wrath is everywhere. But, none the less, I am disappointed that I was not even allowed to participate and think it is all part of censorship. Boo!!!

In using scour.com’s search engine for a month or so, I find that it does involve the three heavies - the big blue G, Yahoo, and Microsoft. It gives you the three search at once. I guess I had not quite realized it utilized these. The other thing is that it is a little clunky on providing searches, not nearly as fast as the big blue G. The only real positive thing I may be able to say about the service is that they supposedly pay you. It keeps track of the number of searches you do and when you hit a certain number (6000), it provides you with a $25 gift certificate. That is kind of nice. Its competitor, dogpile.com, does not do that. Also, you can leave comments about certain search results (ranking it?). I suppose that is handy. (I am trying not to totally let my disappointment cloud my judgement of the service…but today that is hard. This enlightenment thing…). Sigh.

It sure seems like the universe is sending me a message, but my head is too cottony to remotely interpret it. Maybe it is saying “Ellie, go back to bed” or “have a pancake, you will feel better” or “another cup of coffee never hurt anyone…” and so I find myself lured to the coffee pot for yet another cup of 8′ Clock.

Mmmm. Caffeinated warmth. There is nothing quite like it, the warmth of the small ceramic coffee cup, hot in cold hands.

Maybe the universe is just telling me to go back to bed and start again - clear my mind and begin the morning afresh.

Photograph by YuvalH

The thoughts, they twirl around in my mind. Wrtie about this, wrtie about that. Yes, you read that correctly. THat is what I typed quickly - wrtie. Just a little dyslexia merging into my life, I fear. Normally I would not share my typo’s with you, but as I was typing quickly, I suddenly found it insanely interesting that I managed the same typo, perfectly the same way. Funny how the mind/finger relationship works, eh? The mind is an interesting thing, which is why I guess I am in  a mind field.

And so here I am playing with words, fretting over internet connection, and realizing I am late. I am late. I AM LATE.