The Transparent Hypnotist

Photograph by Scott Beale / Laughing Squid

As a daily blogger there are times when the words are painfully squeezed out of my person. They do not always flow as well as one might hope. Lack of sleep, a sense of hurry, and general worries can get in the way. And then there are times when there is so much to say that I feel carbonated, bubbly and ready to overflow. I seem to be going through such a week. My schedule here on the transparent hypnotist is full. I had today’s post ready to roll off my tap, tap, tap, typing fingers and then an incident from yesterday began to barrel through the other words, impatient and unable to wait its turn.

Yesterday between clients, I stopped by a local coffee shop. It was the sort of place where if you want a simple cup of coffee (just coffee, no foam, please), you are provided with an empty cup. Then you are required to go to a stand of coffee containers and choose your variety - regular or high octane. I usually chose a flavored sort as my partner does not appreciate the subtle hints of goodness derived from the flavored type.

So there I am, filling my cup quietly and a woman walks over next to me and refills her cup with hot water for another cup of tea. At first I am rather oblivious. This sort of encounter happens frequently, everyone minding their own business. Then my elbow is nudged. I look over and there she is, a ball of pure energy, a whirlwind of clothes and motion. She fills her cup and struggles with the little (evil) containers of cream. I catch her eye and she apologizes for accidently nudging my elbow. I smile and tell her it is okay. Yet, during this momentary interlude, she has not stopped moving. She is trying desperately to get the peel-able lid off the creamer and in trying not to squirt it out of the packet has sloshed hot water everywhere.

“Just trying not to squirt you,” she says with exuberance that does not fit the occasion. Her energy fills the tiny nook.

As I gather myself and my cup of coffee (really, I like it black), I say in passing, “Seize the day.” I do not normally say such things as an exit line, but it seems the only graceful way to exit. Then she stills. Totally. The energy is drawn within and her flurry ends. She looks at me, really looks at me.

“But then we have to consider the word ’seize’ and what that really means.”

Good grief. I walked out of that coffee shop and pondered her statement. I am still pondering it (apparently). When I said it, it came about because of her exaggerated gusto, but I suspect she was thinking of the nuances of meaning behind the word.

I looked up the definition of ‘seize.’ The first few ways of using it are a little toward the negative:

Seize - take hold of suddenly and forcibly : she jumped up and seized his arm | she seized hold of the door handle.
• capture (a place) using force : army rebels seized an air force base.
• assume (power or control) by force : the current president seized power in a coup.
• (of the police or another authority) take possession of (something) by warrant or legal right; confiscate; impound : police have seized 726 lb of cocaine.

Then we come to:

• take (an opportunity or initiative) eagerly and decisively : he seized his chance to attack as Delaney hesitated.
• strongly appeal to or attract (the imagination or attention) : the story of the king’s escape seized the public imagination.
• formal understand (something) quickly or clearly : he always strains to seize the most somber truths.

And I feel better. This was where I was headed with my comment. Seize can be positive (as in any from of carpe diem).

As I continue to ponder the word ’seize,’ I begin to wonder how we actually communicate with one another. With so many meanings and agendas it is a wonder that we ever have a meeting of the minds. Or is the meeting of such minds something that goes beyond our verbals surface. Is the meaning really something that is understood in a more complex, non-verbal way? I know there are levels to communication (gosh knows there are hundreds of words written on the subject daily), but sometimes, it is a wonder that we click at all with one another.

You may now be happy to know that the postings are live again. That’s right - I am back in blogging land with a cup of coffee in hand. However, there is a part of me that feels I am still in the ether, floating and disassociated from the norms in my life. Once everything from my retreat is processed, I am sure I’ll share, but for now, I am in just begining to feel the floor beneath my feet.

So alas, no Esoteric Saturday today as I find my way through tons of email and other fun things.

Photograph by liam.jon_d

The world is fine for the moment - rather, my world is fine for the moment. Thank you to those who rallied for my cause from yesterday’s posting. Since I went so far as to tell you a scary story involving a child’s view of hypnosis (or at least his mother’s), I thought I would begin the day will a positive tale.

This past weekend included a casual hike on a local lake trail. A few friends and their child joined me for the couple of miles to a beach area for a swim and then a cold lunch (living largely on the edge and hoping the chicken salad would stay chilled in my cold pack). While throwing off hiking boots, t-shirts and shorts and plunging into the semi-coolness of the lake waters (you can use your imagination however you like here - but for those who need to know, yes, I was wearing a swim suit), one of my friend’s adolescent daughter plunged in as well. She and I often have long discussions about hypnosis and she seems to really want to know how it really works.

As she emerged to the surface from her dive, shaking her head to remove the water from her vision, she immediately launched into a conversation about hypnosis. She mentioned watching a hypnotist at her local fair. She was disgusted, she said. He seemed to perpetrate all the myths and did little to educate the public about the truth and the goodness of hypnosis. I tried to explain to her a little about the group phenomena that happens at such shows, but she swore that the people who were on stage really were experiencing what the hypnotist described (like watching a horse race). One of her friends had participated. As I prodded my young friend a bit more, it did come out that the friend who had been hypnotized couldn’t really remember much of anything she had done on stage and was totally exhausted for the whole event. So, whether the participant believed anything is suspect. Apparently their conversation was the briefest of such communications.

But - but…though I know we still have lot of ground to cover, my friend and I, I thought it most positive that she is now paying attention to what she sees and hears about hypnosis - and is questioning it. She is no longer taking the myths for granted and is becoming an advocate. I think I see the makings of  a future hypnotherapist.

Scary. Really scary!!! I cringe at the thought but know that I must persevere, even if my hands tremble and my forehead glistens with sweat that my make-up cannot conceal. My cool, outer exterior will remain.

Did I watch another beloved horror flick? Did I have a client threaten me? Oh no. It is much worse than those ideas.

It started out with an innocent enough encounter. I was taking an evening walk around the neighborhood where my office is located. One of my so-called friends lives on the street and it is not uncommon for her to invite me to join her on her porch for a cool glass of ice tea. Last night was no exception. My palette was ready for the cool taste of tea (with a hint of mint). The ice-cold glass felt wonderful in my warm hands.

Her little boy also joined us (I believe he had some sort of red juice that I hope would not contaminate the whiteness of my suit). The subject of Halloween came up and my friend asked if I would be having another party this year. I am not so sure at this point, but suspect I will indulge in my favorite holiday.

Being polite, I asked her six-year-old what he was planning for the holiday. His mother laughed and began to discuss why it is so healthy and important for young children to dress-up for said event. Rather than exercising demons, she believes it is an opportunity for children to try on different rolls - experimentation, if you will. What I did not know, as I listened patiently, was that her description of a “mini-career day” opportunity, was a set-up.

I walked right into it and asked again, “So, what are you dressing up as?”

“You,” said the child, most matter-of-factly.

Good grief.

“Me?” I looked down at my linen white suit that has been my trademark for the summer. The child is going to vamp as a female business woman, I wondered - trying not to be judgmental, though I was a tad bit appalled. My heels would kill the kid. Would I be liable if he fell over his own two feet?

I must have looked puzzled because his mother began to explain, “You are one of his favorite people and he is fascinated by the idea of hypnosis.” I asked her if she would make him a miniature version of my white suit or if they would modify it to be a pants suit. It was her turn to appear puzzled.

“What? Oh wait,” she giggled, “Oh no, he’s not going as a miniature you - that would be so wrong. His costume is going to be what a hypnotist would wear.”

“This is what a hypnotist wears,” I told her.

“No, not your kind of hypnotist…you know what a typical hypnotist would wear?”

Still puzzled and yes, dismayed that I would be the cause of this child perpetrating the myth of the evil hypnotist, I asked “And what is that?”

So, she showed me. Halloween Costume Stores was what she searched under on her computer. And there it was at Halloween Adventures - The Masters of Masquerade (okay, I admit, I like the tag line) - no, not the evil hypnotist costume, but the classic magician.

“That’s a magician,” I told her.

“Yes, but if you take away the wand and give him a pocket watch, there you have it - a hypnotist.”

I said a few polite words (I hope) and knew it was time to leave. This Halloween-career day-thing was merely something fun, not educational. Then I began to exercise the demons that it had caused to lurk in my soul. It is merely costume. Costumes are stereotypical - is this any different from the good fun adults have when they dress up as evil religious figures? Probably not.

“Children’s Costumes are so expensive,” she went on. “This seems so easy and affordable.” I nodded as though I agreed and hedged to the door, feeling a little ill.

As I waved goodbye and began on my path back from this pseudo Twilight Zone, from the porch my friend had one last request,”Could you teach him some basic hypnosis - those induction things, so he could hypnotize a few friends at his party. That would be such a hoot.”

Sigh.

Crazy. That words describes the morning. The phone has been ringing (I admit, some of the calls are more personal then work related) consistently. I am getting ready to take a class with a mentor in a week or two, and you would think it was my first day at school. Ah the joys, the fun of buying pencil cases (how I miss the crayons - a crisp box of sharpened crayons), lunch boxes (my mum made mine - it was more of a lunch satchel), and books to be covered out of brown paper sacks (my da did that and in his best scrawl he labeled the book with my name). I also was allowed a new wardrobe each Fall. My best friend (which abruptly changed after school started) and I had matching outfits (her mum made those).

It is so much more complicated now. At my age, its not so much about fashion trends, but comfort and professionalism. Should I wear jeans? A pants suit (how did I get so old that I would consider such a thing)? I have my iTouch (with my schedule and contacts enabled) and a handy, leather-styled notepad. The books have come from an online book seller and they are mine to keep. Yet, like the camper I used to be, labels abounding, I feel the urge to designate all my stuff as my own (how did I get so anal?). Since I don’t have my da to scrawl my name across everything thing or my mum to embroider it, I am using computer generated labels. They are simple and clean. Color labels seem the way to go and how much easier it would have been for my da to have cranked them out on a Dymo label maker. I would have been terribly hip. Yet, the memory probably would have been more of my da cranking through a dozen possibilities and lots of sticky, labels all over the work table (and me).

But enough of the memories. My time grows short. I am later than I would care to be for this posting. I have to go buy some sort of cool new pen to take notes.

Photograph by * michel clair *

The positive thing is that yesterday is over and I am still alive. My cat is still alive (and recovering nicely from his latest brawl with the neighbor cats…a few new struggles with pink, icky, liquid antibiotic and he should be good as new). My car is still running. And I slept well.  Maybe I need to join the gratitude blogs out there?

Relieved that the cat would be okay, I then showered and raced to the office to see the first client of the day. Again - a gratitude moment - my veterinarian was able to get to us first thing. But, you are probably not here to read about what a wonderful person my vet is (he so is).

Instead, maybe you are here to read about what a wonderful person my car mechanic is.  LOL. Yes, I know - Ellie stay on the topic (hypnosis). But, really, my mechanic story does have to do with hypnosis - my ability to continue to see my clients.

Continuing - I did make it to the office and my first appointment went well (nail biting - the client, not me - rather - the client used to bite his nails). Thinking I deserved a treat and to celebrate the anticipated recovery of the cat, I got back in my car and drove off to a local restaurant for lunch. Lunch was good. Then I got back in my little car and nothing. Nothing at all. No power. After a few expletives and a desire to sit in the car and sob (I didn’t), I called my mechanic. Last week my car was ill and I had to have the battery replaced. Could the problem really be the alternator? I knew it, I should have become a mechanic…

So, I called my mechanic. He said my problem sounded like loose battery cables. Was there someone there who could check them for me? No. Did I have a pair of pliers? Ah…no. Could I get a pair of pliers?  Hmmmm….maybe. I walked into the Christian bookstore across the street. I told them about my dilemma. No one offered to help. No one had pliers. They did however point me in the direction of the hardware store two blocks away.

Finally, with pliers obtained, I popped the hood of my car and called my mechanic back. There I stood, in my whitest of white suits and uncomfortable heels, in the rain, and learned how to tighten my battery cables. Once accomplished, my mechanic had me try turning over the engine again. I bumbled back to the driver seat, hands black with car ick, fumbled with said hands for the keys, and hoped with everything I had within me that this would do the trick. The keys finally slid into the ignition. I turned them and sure enough…the sound of a positive moment - the engine turned over. I had power again.

With much gratitude, I thanked my mechanic, tried very hard not to touch myself with my dirty hands (that’s really very hard - and where are those tissues when you need them?), and felt the soaked wet cotton of my suit clinging to me in ways that do not benefit a professional. A wet cotton suit contest, maybe…but not a clinical hypnotist. But, I did make it back to the office for the next client. I even had time to scrub my hands and dry off a bit.

And that was yesterday. There are times when I think I should have been a mechanic…

If you are a night owl, prowling the blogosphere, you may have noticed that I am not drinking a cup of tea or coffee, watching the sunrise. Nope. In fact, here I am, slumping through the dark and playing around with my eyes (watch the slideshow and you’ll get it).

If you are reading this blog with your cup of tea or coffee and just starting your day, I am not here. Well, I am here, in slideshow format but it is merely my residue that is floating before your eyes - I am probably at the veterinarian with a sick cat. (Please send us your pink thoughts, I think we may need them).

And so, here I am (or here I was), waiting for morning, trying not to freak out about the cat. This is what my mind was able to concoct as a distraction. I have a love of simple animation (and hypnosis and cats and coffee and tea and blogging and…) and my favorite way to expose myself to you is not with film and camera, but with little drawings and a tad bit of video. I am ever looking for ways to do this that simplifies the process. Roxio online , which is what I used to create this special late night diversion, allows for simple animation. Now granted, I think most people probably use it for photos, I thought this was more suitable for me. So you know what was mine and what was the program’s - the title credits are all Roxio. The text (though my words) are all Roxio. The cool tiling is all Roxio. Basically, the swirl picture is mine. And of course the eyes.

There you have it. My diversion. My experiment. May this document just another night without consequence in my life. If so, I will hold it special. Now I am going to post this and try to sleep.

Cough. Sputter. Cough. Do I really have to get my engine going today?

No, not me, but these are the inner personifications of my car and its aging issues. With its current ickiness of not particularly wanting to start, it is now at the car doctor. And so the waiting begins. Rather than pacing the service station like a worried parent, here I am.

Sadly, whenever this sort of thing happens, I find myself fiddling with my finances and slightly missing the stability of a 9 -5 job working for someone else. I play the mental gambling game - how much will it be? I could go as far as $300, but after that…Ah the perils of self-employment. Being a hypnotist is no different from any other job when it comes to business, so it seems.

Like a person with a toothache that has slightly subsided, I feel for the pain with my figurative tongue. Ouch. I decided to give the BillsIQ quiz a go and see how my financial planning for the future is going. I actually got a “b” grade, so obviously, I need to do a little better (being the over achiever type), but at least I feel I can have the car repair done. Credit counseling has been something I have avoided, but the quiz is like a painless form of it. I have learned that I need to be more diligent in making my monthly payments (yikes, that’s where it really hurts) and spend more time thinking about the potential of one day retiring. That seems so far off, though, it is hard to wrap my mind around it when there are so many other expenses. And…I kinda like what I do…but…

Yep, when I touch my tongue to that sore tooth, it still hurts. Darn.

Maybe you have noticed the odd timing of this post. Maybe not. Maybe you are sitting down in the morning and just checking in or maybe did not sleep last night and came here, wondering what if anything was happening to the transparent hypnotist.

Well, it just so happens that I am writing this before it turns into another Tuesday. Cher’s “Turn Back Time” (a regression anthem maybe?) is playing in the back ground. I would really like to say I have it cranking, but I can’t write and rock at the same time any more. So, here I am, writing my Tuesday posting way earlier. Hopefully you’ll forgive this little slip, but something has come up so I cannot be with you tomorrow morning (maybe later).

But back to Cher (this posting is really about her, not me). I heard today that she is performing at Caesar’s Palace (Vegas Baby). Tickets to see Cher in Las Vegas seem to be on sale until the end of October, so I guess she is becoming a Vegas regular. That’s fun. Being raised on the Sonny and Cher show (yeah, I know…that gives my age away), I have to admit to letting my hair grown too long as child. But that is a trauma story for another day.

What this post is really about isn’t really Cher, at least not Cher in her reality. It is about one of the first hypno shows I ever attended. Nope, I did not get up on stage and belt my heart out to “I got you, Babe.” In fact, I hunkered down in my chair and come Hell or high water, I was not going up on that stage. LOL. But, I was transformed in my own way. I saw something completely amazing.

It was the same ol, same ol, guys being asked to pretend that they were modern female rock stars. Thank God. Someone other than myself had to be Cher. Sure, there was a fake Madonna. There was a fake joan Jett. There Was a fake Brittany Spears. Entertaining. Funny even. And then there was Cher. He was a small Korean man, spoke seemingly little English (I talked to him after the show). He might have been in his 40s and he seemed fairly shy, but good humored. Well apparently when the hypnotist gave him the suggestion that he was Cher, it hit a strong cord - literally. From the first note, he belted out Cher’s hypnotic “Believe.” It was incredible. I closed my eyes and I forgot where I was. Suddenly, I was back in my old apartment, listening to the radio and thinking that I needed to buy this new album (CD - it wasn’t that long ago). OMG!!! This guy, this unimposing man, did a better impersonation of Cher than Cher could do herself.

For me, this particular moment in my hypnosis history showed me what an amazing tool it is. When I talked to the Cher-voiced man after the show, he was beaming from ear to ear. He said he felt like nothing he had ever felt before - it was freeing for him. He felt like he could do anything he wanted. I suggested he start a new career as an impersonator. But he had a better answer to my predicable, if not-off compliment. He said he wanted to find his own voice and sing. Maybe not Caesar’s, but maybe do some community theatre or something.

I’d love to tell you the story ends with him playing Curly in Oklahoma (or someone in In the Heights, but I have no idea. I never saw that man again. But I hope he’s out there, singing his heart out - even Karaoke would be good.

But now, whenever I think about Cher, I think about that performance. I think about doing new and different things. I think about the wonderful man. I think about the person I was, who became inspired to help other’s feel the power of finding one’s own voice. Thank you, Cher.

Well, we are taking the day off here at the Transparent Hypnotist and will be back next week with our regularly scheduled 10 Question Friday. Stay tuned for lots of exciting posts coming up. You never know, with the suggestion of a friend, we may do some investigative work on subjects near and dear to our hearts…

See you tomorrow.