The Transparent Hypnotist

Photograph by filipe ferreira

“But Ellie, you cannot hypnotize me.” It is inevitable. There is one in every crowd.

The hypnotist sighs, maybe even sighs again. She shifts a bit in her chair, not as though she has suddenly become uncomfortable and must physically find relief. No, she shifts in her chair as though settling in for a long winter of explanation. Then she smiles, not a happy smile, but one might swear it is the same smile Divinci favored on his painted lady. The words are bubbling up, effervescent, even.

“True. True.” Those are the only words she says for what seems like along while. Now the person sitting opposite her shifts, more out of a sudden feeling like discomfort, the loudness of the silence, saying it all. Affirmations and questions burble loudly without the help of words. Thoughts like, “I knew it” travel between them and the one-sided thought “why are you wasting my time” also lingers, but is quickly hidden with a verbal phrase.

“It would be pointless for me to continue with you if you already have it in your mind that I cannot hypnotize you.” She mask away the sarcastic urge to add “So, good day.” Instead, she paints herself in patience.

“But, you said anyone can be hypnotized.”

“Anyone who wants to be hypnotized. You have to be open to it, but coming here and declaring that you cannot be hypnotized is pretty much an assurance that you will not be hypnotized.” The hypnotist is long past the time when she would even find it partially amusing to rise to such a challenge. Time has softened that edge of need.

“But don’t you guarantee that you can hypnotize anyone?”

“No. I cannot hypnotize anyone who does not want to be hypnotized.” She takes a sip of her tea, which is becoming irritating luke warm. This person across from her is just curious about hypnosis, she surmises pushing away the thoughts about con-jobs and free hypnosis. It is always darkly interesting to her, that after speaking with someone on the phone and explaining the basics about hypnosis, how every so often someone like this person, squeaks past to the point of consultation.

“Humor me,” she says, her tone changing subtly, “Clasp your fingers together like you are about to play ‘This is the church, this is the steeple.’ Open the steeple so the fingers are not touching. Now put them up in front of your eyes and look into the space between them.” Then she walks silently over, talking in a calm voice, not quite the hypnotic one she uses in sessions, but close. There person looks up at her, wondering at the silent movements she just made.

“Look at the space between,” she says again. And she begins her little hypnosis parlor trick, without the aid of a real rubber band, she tells her bait to imagine that she does indeed have one and she has put it around the two fingers that were the steeple. She tightens the rubber band and the fingers gradually begin to go together.

“Whoa.” She gilds back to her seat and her tea, sits, and smiles.

“What was that?”

“Hypnosis,” she says and takes a sip.

Art by Eddi 07

During my early university years, one of my roommates was a Irish Setter. She was ultimately a good roommate. Though she took up a lot space, the space was random and she more than happy to not have her own bed (our flat was small) and share one of ours. She did not leave bits of make-up refuge on the sink in the bathroom. One of the interesting things about Nina is that she had a strong neurosis about the air conditioner. Every summer, we girls would eventually feel the need to use our window unit and cool down. When this occurrence happened and the outside roar of the machine came on, Nina would get up from a seemingly deep dog sleep and begin to walk in circles around the backyard. She would do this ten times and there was no distracting her. Even her favorite snack (popcorn) failed to arouse her attention away from the ritual. Once she completed the tenth lap, she would come out of her trance walk and be the same old, reliable, fun Nina she normally was…until the air-conditioner clicked off and revved up again.

It always makes me smile inside to remember Nina like that and when I hear about people doing patterned behavior as Nina did. Yes, true enough, I would smile at someone who did ten circles around the permitter of a backyard whenever the air-conditioning came to life, but I digress. One of my fellow cronies in a networking group called me last night to discuss the patterned behavior of her spouse and as she was telling me her story, all I could see was the red hair of Nina flashing past the windows of my memory.

Rather than stalking air-conditioning units in the summer, this fellow’s thing is the upcoming holidays (yeah, I know, we all have patterned behavior about holidays). Ever since seeing Real Genius (oh so many years ago), this guy has fancied himself a computer genius (in reality he is a county clerk or some such desk-type-civil-servant). During the holidays, he decides to build his own computer (to date he has not finished one). He goes through the newspaper and internet looking for discounts on various parts and pieces (never using the defunct pieces from the year before - imagine their garage). He orders some and in come the parts. As his wife and children bake holiday goodies, put up the tree and watch Christmas specials on the tele, he works himself into a frenzy of frustration over the non-working artificial intelligence before him. The tension in the house is always at a low boil as his behavior slowly becomes more savage and paranoid. Then Christmas arrives, overlooked mostly by him (we know who the real Santa Claus is) and a deep depression sets in as he feels his failure.

Wow. I think about pouring a Jack and Ginger just listening to my friend’s woes. But his holiday “tradition” started long before she was part of his life and she has come to grips that this is just the way it is, so she wants to modify her behavior to be more tolerant before the temperature of madness escalates this year. Well, good for her for working on herself rather than trying to change that which cannot be changed (unless it wants to be).

However, she has an interesting idea as well this year (hence the need for more patience and tolerance). The other night when he pulled up the ZipZoomFly.com site, she decided to get involved - being the supportive wife. With budget issues facing everyone, she decided that she could help him find ZipZoomFly coupons for a greater discount, allowing a little financial room for the various things that will need to be ordered later. I am a huge component of this, even when the economy is doing well - couponing, I mean.

Her next plan is to ask him if she could participate in his project (he complains during the process that she has no interest in what he does). Hopefully he will be deterred a bit off his collision course, unlike Nina and the air conditioner, and the element of her desire to spend time with him and his project will change the dynamic of the holidays. Her plan is to act as his assistant (not take over).

So, what this really means is that the holidays are indeed upon us. Good grief, I have barely pulled out the winter clothes. How did this happen?

Photograph by Laughing Squid

My office waiting room is set up with a comfortable couch, a coffee table, and a Straight-backed chair. This room is inevitably where I meet and greet my clients and do my pre-talk about hypnosis. When setting up the office, I decided against the notion of making it look sterile and doctor-like. I opted for the sanctuary concept.

However, I am very comfortable sitting in the chair with the client on the couch. I leave it up to the client though to decide where to sit (I stack my odds by putting a clipboard with my intake form facing the couch). So, when the client picks the coach, they sink back into it (though it is not one that is so pillowy that it is hard to exit) and I sit straight-backed in my chair and we begin.

Yet, I have noticed a pattern. It is usually women who chose the chair, with the exception of one gentleman (interestingly enough he liked hypnosis so much, he became a hypnotist). For a long while I did not notice anything unusual about these women, other than it took me longer to gain rapport with them and they seemed more resistant to my suggestions.

So, I recently had a new client who came in and insisted on sitting in the chair. Rather than talking to her from my couch position, I never really sat down. You see, I had begun to wonder if it was my oddness of sitting on the couch that was being projected into the session. Rather than remaining in the waiting room, I took her into the session room fairly quickly and finished my pre-talk there. It seemed to work on the rapport level, and yet the session was still very challenging to me. I prefer my challenges to be met in the process of the suggestion work (finding just the thing that will work for the client), not at the induction level.

It went like this:

I would begin an induction, start the deepening and she would open her eyes and suddenly ask a questions (though I gave her over an hour to ask them in advance). So, I would answer the question and segway it back into a patter that would deepen whatever state she was currently experiencing. This continued to happen. I gave her three times and on the last, I asked her if she wished to resume, just try it out for relaxation purposes, or try again another time giving her an opportunity to just chat with me (I figured I switch to complete NLP techniques at that point). She chose to continue on, and things went better. But then I heard my automatic wind chimes jiggle (timed to give off a soft tone to remind me when a session is supposed to end) and knew I needed to end the session. I had another client that would be there in half an hour.

Anyway, in looking back at my client notes, I notice this same occurrence happening every time someone sits in that chair. The sessions are often successful, but it is like pulling teeth to get there. Sometimes I wonder if the chair is cursed. I suspect it is more a cue for me to change my practice for those who fit the pattern. Maybe I just need to have the first session as more of a consulting type deal with a practice hypnosis run. Stuff to think about.

photo by Immanuel Giel, Wikipedia Commons

Her name is Bojana, which she tells me is as common in her homeland of Serbia as Mary or Jennifer would be in the US. Her English is quite good but she apologizes for it anyway with a nervous laugh.

We talk for a little bit to help settle her down. I keep an eye on the Skype window, though, to remind myself that while it may only be early evening for me it’s well after midnight in Serbia. Soon enough Bojana seems to be relaxing a bit. It’s time to begin.

The induction goes well.  I can hear her breathing slow and deepen and her verbal responses take on that dreamy tone that confirms she’s making good progress.  We transition into a brief deepener, a countdown disguised as a walk down a corrider inside her mind (an image I shamelessly borrow from Terence Watts).  And then, because Bojana had asked for this session because she was having difficulty reaching beyond a moderate trance depth on her own, I move on to my favorite deepening exercise, which I learned from Brian David Phillips.  The method involves having the client imagine a control panel with three large knobs or dials, each of which is set to zero now and has 10 positions.  The client turns the first knob him/herself, going twice as deep with each click; I turn the second, sending the client three times deeper with each click; and we turn the last one together, going five times deeper with each click.

We get as far as the sixth click on the first dial, then suddenly Bojana stops me.  “I’m sorry,” she says.  “I hit the wall again and came out.”  She sounds frustrated and apologetic at the same time.

“It’s perfectly okay,” I tell her, staying in voice, and before she can pull herself out completely I talk her back into trance.  She wants it, so it’s not very hard to get her heading back down, but obviously a change in tactics is in order.

Erickson teaches us to use what the client brings to us.  Bojana had brought a wall; okay, why not?  I tell her to gently allow herself to approach the wall, close enough to touch it, and describe it to me in detail.  It’s old, she says.  Huge.  Made of big, rough stones, like the wall of a castle.  Which gives me an idea.

Every castle, I explain to her, is equipped with secret exits so that the ruler can escape in an emergency or sneak soldiers in to recapture a fallen stronghold.  I suggest that she feel around the wall, looking for that faint seam or loose stone that, when pressed, causes the secret door to open.  We’ve already established that this is her wall, her castle, so she has every right to enter.  Bojana feels around for a minute, poking and prodding the wall, and sure enough she discovers a small hole concealing a button.  Pressing the button causes part of the wall to open.

Bojana steps inside.  Today’s goal has been achieved.

<MR>

It loomed up before her like an albatross of doom, metal screeching, lights a jumble of randomness and oh, the screams. Those terrible screams made her want to turn and flee for her life. And she did run, grabbing each child’s hand and racing as far away from the terror as she could go…without leaving Morey’s Piers amusement park. The screaming? That was mostly in her head, mingled with the noise of thrill seekers on the giant ferris wheel.

This past summer, I wrote about a friend who was extremely phobic over ferris wheels. The above paragraph was how she originally described her encounter with the famous ride. For most people this is not a big deal - how often do you a ride a ferris wheel in your life? It is not a normal everyday experience. But, my friend is not one to be cowed by anything, so she planned her family beach vacation around Morey’s Piers just to deal with the phobia and a session we had right before the start of her holiday. You might be thinking that her phobia had to do with heights or some such thing, but it actually had its roots with something even stranger. Apparently as a child she had watched a television program about unsafe carnival rides and it had really affected her.

Like all hypnosis sessions, the success of dealing with the phobia meant that she would have to do much of the work herself (not just letting my wrap my voice fingers about her subconscious mind and jostle a few concepts, but she would have to be an active participant). This meant she researched Morey’s Piers (she chose it hoping I would come along for the Disney Radio shows - I was unable to do so). She talked to the park’s safety people - she may have even looked at schematics for the rides (I don’t know this for sure). Once she felt certain that there were many safety features in place and the ride would be safer than getting in the car to drive her child to school, we worked through the phobia.

She finally wrote me an email last week to talk about her trip (she did not give me permission to publish it). The interesting thing was that she talked more about how delighted she was with the resorts in Wildwood, NJ and the hospitality her family received. She said it was more like going to Disneyland than going to the pier carnivals she had played at as a child (or in her case, feared and avoided). There were still cotton candy and silly games, but it was a great place to take the family (okay she also mentioned that with the Piers’ weekly specials, it was much cheaper than other vacations of that variety). Her words were about the organization behind the park, how helpful they were and how their web site is a true reflection of how they do things there (she actually did use the site to book the whole trip and found they had great deals on accommodations).

She mentioned little about the ferris wheel, so much so, I wondered if she had actually tried going on it or was this a polite way of avoiding telling me that she still needed to do more work with the phobia? Then there it was at the end of the email

“I don’t know why that ferris wheel was such a big deal - it was rather anti-climatic. It was a soothing ride with great views, but really benign.”

Art by arkano3.

It is a bit of a gloomy morning today, outside. Inside, its bright and festive and very much a proper coffee time. I am actually listening to a little mariachi to drive out the dulls. Now kiddies, don’t try this at home (okay do not try it at home unless you are ready for big sound early in the day).

Last I week I mentioned a client in my post frivolous and several of you left comments or emailed me about it. So, I though I would follow up on it and let you know how the story is continuing. I can truly call the subject of that post “my client.” She confirmed her appointment with me before I could confirm with her and showed up for it.

Trying hard not to pre-judge her, I was surprised when a beautiful, bubbly person walked in the door. She was wonderfully expressive and open. I guess I expected neurotic, closed posture, and old beyond her years. Wow. Big difference. Granted I only had emails to go by, but she was completely the opposite of what I envisioned. I mentioned this to her (in a kind way) and she said she was good at projecting what she is not.

This made me think of the idea (someone said this…someone famous) that often by affecting the attitude you want to portray, you end up feeling that way. In this case, that seems far from the reality - or her belief of who she is and how she feels. She would have me believe that she wears a mask of happiness (or good natured femininity). But she seems so genuinely kind, warm, nurturing towards others, that I think she does not see the forrest for the trees. She blames herself for every bad thing. I suspect if that hurricane had hit, she would have found some way to blame herself for it - not being prepared enough, not having enough provisions, not batting down every shingle on the roof.

And so, this is the starting point for her, diving into her self-image and finding the first hurt that caused this awful feeling of fault. Progress.

And after the session, she has decided she wants to do more sessions. She is worth it, she says.

It is a good start.

I have a new client. There is a hesitancy that I have read into her emails. She is terribly nervous about seeing a hypnotist for the first time (understandable). I answer all her questions as best I can and I hope for the best. She responds by requesting a session to work on releasing family issues. She writes that she feels bad about everything and everything in her life that does not turn out well is all her fault. And her words break my heart and I feel the pain in her lack of self-esteem.

We go through the usual price of sessions correspondence. She decides she wants to set up multiple appointments (I offer a price break for multiple sessions). All is ready for the appointed time.

A few days before the scheduled session, another email from her pings into my in box. She wants to know when she has to decide on the multiple session thing. I tell her she can decide after the first appointment and I can spread out the payments between the sessions (I do not think I can be too much more flexible). Her response to this is that she will let me know later because she may be laid off soon and money will be an issue. This I understand, however - this says it all - the sessions may be the first thing she cuts out because they are one of her more frivolous expenses.

Uh huh. I guess personal peace and feeling better is not “priceless” but trivial. Sigh.

Photograph by ziggy fresh

The email began with words of skepticism (one might even say a healthy dose of it) about hypnosis. Nothing new there. Then sender went on to make me a proposition - she wanted a one hour session to help her be a better tennis player. Her proposition was that she was willing to pay me half my normal rates to work with her on this.

When I mentioned this causally to my partner, he laughed. Did she think she was a celebrity tennis player and could get such favors? Hmmm…seems like celebrities could afford to pay my normal session rate.

“Ellie,” he said, “Answer that email like a doctor would.”

“How’s that, luv?” I asked.

And of course, his explanation made perfect sense. Be formal. Give the normal answers about how hypnosis works, how I practice it, and then state my standard fee. Smart. Also, he reminded me, unless it is a returning customer, my appointments are rarely under an hour and a half. I usually go as long as I need to get it done. And this person is already a skeptic. Usually, it takes a little while longer to work on rapport (maybe more so for me as the hypnotist) in such cases.

Needless to say, I have yet to hear back and I am actually okay with that. If you went to a surgeon, would you expect to declare the time it would take and offer half the normal rates? Would you do it with you dentist, you personal trainer, or your lawyer? Would a store sell you a pair of jeans for half price randomly? Probably not. And if you do such things (I do know people who live for the haggle), are you truly getting what it is that you seek? It makes me wonder if people short cut her, and if she is actually okay with it?

How do marriage counselors do it - go on daily working with couple dissension?  Is there a class one takes in dealing with some of the ugliness that can occur or is it a process of desensitization?

In my Friday 10 Questions, I always ask people about their worst hypnosis session and how it turned into a valuable learning experience. I might have just had mine the other day. It was not so much the hypnosis aspect or trance work that was the problem, but the time before we actually went into my session room. I will not say this was so much of a pre-talk, as this was a returning client who has scheduled several sessions to work on various things. So this was not the client’s first time in the office.

She always brings her husband along and wants him included with everything (a whole ‘nother scary story). So, as I joined them in my waiting room and was getting ready to take her back to the session room, I asked the polite, “how is it going?” This met with a tad bit of hesitancy, but she answered it in a usual greeting.

“So, what do you want to work on today?” She looked wide-eyed over to her husband and I felt the inkling that something might be a miss.

“Anger management.” Well this seemed helpful and thought out. But without going into the total details, it went from a pleasant conversation to disaster in less than five minutes. Basically, she wanted to “disable” the buttons he seemingly pushes that set her off. He took this very badly, not realizing “he” would be the subject of a session. I can see how that might be upsetting. But, it seems admirable that she wants to work on such a thing - can’t change the other person and all that. Well, with her trying to explain herself to him, it got ugly. He exploded and walked out. I told her we could reschedule the session and that she should probably go deal with her husband. She agreed and left. Then I heard it - the scream fest out in the parking lot.  I am not sure I mentioned this before, but my office is in a business district. I share a building with four other offices who have people coming and going at all times.

And what did I do?  I sat there at my desk like an idiot, hoping it wold just blow over.  The argument increased. I had to do something, but what? Just going on instinct, I grabbed a box of tissues and two bottles of water and headed out to the site of the battle. I think I totally startled them by just handing them the water and tissues. Thank goodness. They stopped arguing at high decibels and I did not have to say anything.

Instead they headed back up to my office with me. They both decided to press on. But all I had to do was again ask her the question, “can you give me a goal you want to work on?”

Nothing she could say would pacify him. It started again (but a little more quietly). I think she could have said she wanted to work on smoking cessation (she does not smoke) and he would have taken it to heart. At that point, I got up from my chair and looked at them both.

“Basically, I am going to give you five minutes to decide what you want to do. Both of you need to remember that she is my client and it is her issues I am working with today. You both need to be on the same page about where this is going. I really think we should reschedule.”

And so I went into my office and had a cup of coffee. She came in shortly after. I asked if she would be better off doing this on her own, but she looked terrified and said he would not let her. Again I asked if she wanted to reschedule but she said they were okay now.

And so it seemed to be.  It was as though I had imagined the whole episode. He was polite and seemingly the ever supportive husband.

Sigh.

“He falls asleep on me,” she told me, “All I have to do is start telling him about my day and he falls asleep. Am I that boring? I listen to him and he has no life. I can stay awake.” These were the words of a recent client. She came to me for other reasons, but these comments stuck with me.

“Is this at night?” I asked, thinking about my own personal experience with people falling asleep during my late night sermons.

“No, it’s all the time.”

“All the time?”

She nodded, “All the time. I don’t even have to speak. He could be cooking dinner and down he goes. He once fell asleep in the shower and hit his head pretty badly. Woke him up, though.”

Narcolepsy, I wondered.

“Has he been to the doctor for this?”

Again, she nods, taking another sip of tea, “Yeah, they gave him pills, but he doesn’t like to take them.

Oh dear. Granted I do not know that much about narcolepsy, but it sounds fairly dangerous, not to mention a potential creator of low esteem for those around who do not understand. But, I know several people who prefer not to go the pill route these days (okay, so I can even relate).

Oddly, she did not ask me if I could hypnotize him for this. Instead, she wanted to know what I thought she could do to be more interesting so he would stay awake. And of course, I explained that I am not a doctor and cannot really give her any advice in his area of afflication, but she could ask him if he had been diagnosed with narcolepsy. Then she could research it herself and understand it. She muttered something about having a hard time remembering such big words (that’s another story).

Well, it did make me wonder what sort of options are out there for people with narcolepsy. Though I am not so sure it would work for the narcoleptic, but it just might, I found a neat little device called the Nap Zapper. You wear it behind your ear and it senses when you are about to doze off. It then provides a gentle alarm to help you wake up. Granted, it is sold in places that sell Keychain mace, but it is an interesting notion. Actually, it would be a great tool for long distance drives (I have one coming up here again). Hmmm…

And I am ever reminded of the mad tea party from one of the Alice books, where the dormouse keeps falling asleep in his tea cup. Interesting when someone is not on your wave length. I mentioned this to my client - that she must sometimes feel like Alice at the mad tea party. She looked blankly at me and noticed her cup was empty.