“We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured.”
~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

There is no question we are in this together. whether “we” refers to two people in relationship, to a family, groups of people, a nation, or our species. In this time of self-reflection, I choose not to look to others to become who they ought to be before I focus on being who I ought to be, despite the fact that I will not fully succeed until we all succeed. This is my gift to myself and to others, even to those who do not yet know the beauty of focusing on being who they ought to be.

In the turbulent years of the 1960s, I lived a secluded life, generally unaware of what was happening in the world that did not directly impact my life. I recall the day that Dr. King was assassinated. At that time, I was unaware of the depth of Dr. KIng’s contribution to the nation, to the world. On that April day in 1968, another in a series of days that shocked the world back then, I do recall the speculations about King being involved with a woman other than his wife, perhaps near the time of his death, and I focused on my assessment of him being who he ought not to be instead of noticing all he did to be who he ought to be, including his invitation for us to be who we ought to be, as well.

It took a long time for me to understand that many of those who made great contributions to expanding consciousness of our humanity had a shadow side. And, it would be easy to dismiss the good by focusing on the not so good. But despite the shadow, these contributions have supported us all in becoming more of who we ought to be. Though we have not, yet, arrived at perfection, most of us at least can vision something of what perfection might look like because of these people who embodied both light and dark.

Even in the expression of their shadow, the not-yet perfect contributors give us permission to notice the shadow side that is all to often unacknowledged and hidden deeply within us. Once we become aware of the vision of perfection and the shadows that we carry we can bring healing to the darkness within us and become more of who we ought to be: our gift to ourselves and a gift to others.

King was so correct when he said, “We are tied together in the single garment of destiny.” It cannot be any other way. Let us take this day to see the beauty of the garment of destiny that lives within the hearts of every one of us.

Recall the most famous words of Socrates, who said, “An unexamined life is not worth living” and the ancient Greek aphorism, “Know thyself,” often attributed to Plato. Let yourself look into the mirrors embedded in these articles that reflect back something of yourself through your responses to what you read…and allow a greater depth of your awareness of yourself to unfold in the process.

Until we know ourselves, we will not be able to create lives and experiences that contain the greatest meaning to our souls. Each of us came here to explore, to discover, to experience, to know, and to express our unique being in the world through what we create in our lives as what we do in the world flows from who we are. But our disconnection from our essential self, the being we really are, causes us to live feeling empty, fearful, threatened, angry, unsure, confused, and so much more. We live without direction, and lack purpose or a sense of satisfaction in our lives, even if we have tried to force a purpose and direction.

Open to the possibility to discovering who you really are, as Joseph Campbell so poignantly stated, “…not the you that you cherish; not the you that you distinguish from other.” Once you know yourself, both you, and your world will transform into what you wished for yourself from the very beginning. You will be able to create the life your heart once dreamed.

Sandy Sela-Smith (c) 2005

I know that Florida’s cold in December does not compare to the cold in other parts of the world, especially when there is so much snow like the North has experienced this winter.  But as I write this to you, just a few days before Christmas, it is a crispy 40-degree-day…filled with sunshine and cold breezes that puff in from the small lake behind the place where I live with my dog, Jenny and my cat, Rachael.

As I write, this very minute, my windows are all open to let in the fresh air.  In Florida, almost everyone opens the windows in the winter because they have been closed up all summer to keep out the heat and keep in the air conditioning.  So winter is like everyone else’s springtime.  We open our windows, let in the freshness, and breathe good cool air!

Right now, with windows wide open, I can hear the birds chirping in the forest.  And I can see beautiful white Egrets walking along the water’s edge with their images reflecting in the water.  Every now and then, I can hear the sounds of the alligators talking with each other in their almost elephant sounding voices, probably asking the other animals what caused the normal Florida heat to go away.

The day that I first met Samuel, was a cold day, very similar to today.  Everything was crystal clear, as it is now…and fresh.  On that day, I wrote the story that I am about to tell you now…

Jenny, my lovely little Lhasa, loved her walk today, not that she doesn’t always love her walks, but today was special.  Because it is her walk, it only makes sense to me that she gets to decide where we go.  Of course, I watch out to be sure she doesn’t get in the way of cars…and I do keep her on the leash.  But Jenny leads the way.

There are any number of ways we can go…there are paths lined with oak trees that wind between buildings.  Some of them have picnic tables nearby, and others just wind here and there.  Sometimes she goes over to the long park, but she almost always chooses to go places where there are no other people or no other dogs.  If she hears a dog bark, she usually drops her tail and ears and runs as fast as she can in the other direction.  On those days our walks are short…and fast.

Normally Jenny runs away and hides from everything.  If people walk close to me as we journey on our walking path, she normally hides behind my legs, and then after they pass by, she runs out in front of me, just a little, and barks at them, perhaps fooling herself into believing that she made them run away and kept us safe.

   But today, she walked right up to a man to sniff his hand and a little later on the walk, she tried to get what looked like a 60-pound fawn-colored boxer puppy to play with her.  His head was bigger than her whole body, but she didn’t seem to care.  Jenny just wanted to play with her new friend.  She touched noses with a couple of other dogs along the way, too, and didn’t once try to run away.  All of this is very unusual behavior for a dog who could be called a “fraidy-cat.”

A little while ago, when fall was just starting here, a leaf fell out of a tree and dropped on the ground very near Jenny.  She jumped back and tried to hide between my legs in a state of panic.  She acted as if something wicked had dropped out of the sky to attack her.  Then she ran away from the fallen leaf, at least as far as she could run on her leash, as fast as her legs could carry her.

But today, she seemed comfortable with strangers, with other dogs, and with falling leaves.   Maybe what happened last night had something to do with today being so different.

Last night I had a very unusual houseguest…he came in the late evening and stayed until 4:00 AM this morning.  It is not usual for me to invite houseguests in to stay so very late.   But before you get too surprised at my unusual behavior, the guest was a beautiful bug with gigantic wings.

At then end of a very long day, I climbed up the three flights of steps and walked to the back of the building through the open breezeway to get to my apartment.  I was about to enter my apartment when I saw a most amazing flying critter.  He was resting on the siding in the breezeway outside my door.  This critter, I will call Samuel, had a wingspan of about 4 inches while he was at rest, but they were much more extended in flight…He was about 3 inches in length and had 6 very lovely legs.

What I found fascinating about him was that his wings were the color of dried leaves…sort of a dusky tan with little brown and rusty red markings that made them look like veins in the leaf.  His head looked like the stem of a leaf with rings and lines on it that made it look as if it had snapped off from a tree.  The wings had notches in them that had an orange connective tissue that I suspect allowed flight.  When I got very close to him, I could see that his whole under side was orange and the rest of his body was shaped very much like a caterpillar.  His tail curved upward and almost came to a point.

I stopped to look at him and tell him how beautiful he was.  He was still there when I took Jenny out for her late walk that night…and, to my surprise, Samuel was there again the next morning.  By the next night I began to feel worried about my flying friend.  I thought something might be wrong because he had not moved from his place on the wall in over two days.

I decided to see if perhaps he had a leg stuck in a web or if something else was not working, so I ever so gently touched him.  He moved his wings a bit and took a couple of steps but didn’t fly away.  Again I told him how beautiful he was, for he really was the most beautiful bug I had ever seen and then went about my evening responsibilities.

Late that night, when Jenny and I went out for our last walk of the evening, Samuel was still there, I walked up very close to him and spoke to him again.  I lifted my hands up close without scaring him and let him know that I was sending warm energy to him,  I held my hands a couple inches away from him, and as I sent warmth to him, I told Samuel that I loved him, for it was really true.  However, Samuel remained unmoved.  I went to bed and thought of him, sending messages from my heart to his heart…and I fell asleep.

Samuel was there Saturday morning, three whole days from the first time I saw him…and he had not moved the whole time from his place on the wall.  I did not know the habits of leaf-like flying critters, so I didn’t know if there was something to be worried about or not.

Saturday afternoon, I came home to find that he was on the ground in the breezeway.  It looked as if he had fallen from the wall and was unable to move.  I held my breath for a moment, for I thought he might have died.  When I reached down to lightly touch him to see if he was hurt or dead, Samuel walked onto my hand.  He just stood on my hand, looking up at me and seemed to be perfectly happy.

A gust of wind blew through the breezeway, almost blowing Samuel off my hand.  I lifted my other hand to protect him against the wind and cradled him in my hand while I got Jenny’s leash to take her for her walk. I decided I would walk to the back of my apartment building where there are lots of tall green plants, lots of grass, and plenty of other bugs that live near the lake.  This seemed like a much better place for Samuel than on the cement floor of a very cold and windy breezeway three floors above the grass and the lake.

I found what seemed to be a large, bug-friendly green leaf and rested my hand on it to let Samuel walk onto familiar territory.  He put two legs on the huge leaf and walked back onto my hand.  I tried again, but he kept returning to my hand.

The weather was getting colder and the wind was getting stronger.  Samuel would not go to the leaves, and I didn’t want him to stay in the breezeway another night, especially because the temperature was dropping another 20 degrees in the night, and he would be so cold.

I was afraid that if I put him out, he would die or something bigger would come and eat him, so I invited Samuel into my house.  By this time he had walked from my hand to the sleeve of my jacket and began to walk up my arm, so I slipped the jacket off, carefully folded it and put it on my dresser.  I got a plant from the living room and placed it next to him.  Then I got a little plastic cap and filled it with water and set that next to him also.  He didn’t budge.  He just sat there on my jacket, very still and quiet.  In case he was hungry, I took the corner of non-flower sprouted bread and sat that net to him.  After a while, his front feet were on the bread, but I had no idea if bugs like Samuel would eat bread or leaves.  At one point it looked like his head was resting on the breadcrumb.  But I didn’t know for sure if he had eaten anything.

I was feeling concerned for Samuel the bug because if he didn’t eat what I provided for him, he might die in the apartment without whatever he needed.  It was very late, so I turned off the light and wished him goodnight.  Neither my dog, Jenny, nor my cat, Rachael can jump high enough to get onto the dresser, so as long as Samuel remained there, I knew he would be OK.

I lay down in my bed and turned off the light, but remembered that in all of the fuss with my houseguest, I had forgotten to lock the front door.  So I turned on the light and walked out to the living room door and locked it.  I returned to bed and turned out the light again.

I had just begun to drift off to sleep when I heard the sound of Rachael eating something. My heart began to beat very fast as I turned on the light, only to find that Rachel had gotten into Jenny’s unfinished dried food and was eating it by my bedroom door.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

The on–off–on of the lights must have been confusing to Samuel.  In the outdoors, when the sun goes down and it gets dark, it generally stays dark all night.  It must have been confusing for the bright light to turn to dark and back to light so many times.  When I looked over at him, Samuel was standing in an upright position, for the first time, and his wings were quivering…then with a leap and a flap, he flew to the top part of the cathedral ceiling in my bedroom, about 10 feet above my bed.

I knew it wouldn’t be good for me to try to coax him down, so somewhere around midnight I closed all the bedroom doors, opened my bedroom window, removed the screen so that he could fly out should he have the notion to do that, and turned out the light.  He was still there on the wall about 1:00 when I woke from the cold.  It had dropped to about 37 degrees.  I was afraid that I might catch a cold and I knew it would not be good for Jenny, Rachael and me if dawn came with the windows open.  We could wake to find mosquitoes looking for a warmer place to stay and fresh blood.  I closed the window.

A few hours later, I woke to the sound of fluttering.  Light from the moon let me see that Samuel was flitting around in my drapes.  I opened the window, walked over to the drapes where Samuel was half-walking, half-flying, cupped my hands loosely around Samuel’s airspace so as not to hurt his legs or wings, and helped him toward the window.  He flew out into the night with amazing strength.  I watched him fly off into the moonlight, higher and higher into the air until he disappeared into the night and I could not see him anymore.  Just as I released him, I looked at the clock…it was 4:00 AM exactly.

I am not sure why Samuel came to visit…but I was so pleased that he did.  I am also so pleased that he has returned to his outside world and his life…

Just looking at him delighted my heart.  I was so deeply touched by how he and his species had learned to make their bodies look like leaves and twigs to create safety.

Oh, forgot to mention something to you…I do remember a “conversation” of sorts, I had with Samuel that first night I saw him clinging to the wall outside my apartment, that first time that I walked close to him and looked at how beautiful he was.  I believe that studying him so closely caused me to drift a deeper place inside me…and while there, I felt as if I was having a talk with him.

I told Samuel that through all time, all creatures, including human beings, have tried to figure out how to make themselves safe.  I told him that we humans have done similar things like those that flying bugs like him have done in trying to camouflage themselves for safety, so I understood a little about him.   He learned how to look like a leaf so that whoever eats bugs would think he was a leaf and not eat him.  At one time or another, every kid learns to look like something that he or she is not in order to avoid getting hurt.  And sometimes kids even try to act like something that they are not to protect themselves.

Then I explained that I was learning that in spite of what things look like in the outer world, that might cause us to feel like we are not safe, that we are all eternally safe.  Bad situations don’t last forever and eventually, one way or another, we find out how we can be ourselves and still be safe in the world.  Sometimes it takes a while to learn how to do that, but we can learn.

I shared with Samuel about the path that the world seems to be taking today and no matter what the present situation looks like, there is wonder in walking on that path.  I told him I believed that eventually we would all finally figure out how to live in this world together and that someday, we would all be safe.  I held this one-way discussion with an insect for a period of time and sent him love…from my heart to his.

My mind knows that I was talking to myself in a one-way conversation with a bug that doesn’t even know that his name is Samuel, and that I was not communicating with another species.  But there is a place in my heart that knows that not only did I talk with Samuel, but someplace deep inside me a part of me listened to him talking to me as well.

He was a wonderful gift for a few days in my life, and a welcome guest in my home for a few hours…but I also knew that I could not take care of him…Samuel had to take care of himself. I know that Samuel has transformed my thoughts regarding the critters of the insect world.  Not all that long ago, I was terrified of insects and especially of any bug-like creature that was big enough to name.  After spending this time with Samuel as my houseguest, I now have a feeling of closeness to all the critters that live around me.  I now know that I can talk with them…and that they can talk with me.

This morning it is sunny and warming up to perhaps 60 degrees.  I walked to the back of the building at the end of my walk with Jenny and sent a mental thought to all the amazing insects that inhabit the lake area and preserve behind my apartment.  I thanked them for who they are and what they contribute to this whole circle of life that we share for a time in this connected world.  And I thanked Samuel for coming into my life, even for a very short time.  In my heart, I believe that Samuel heard me.  And somewhere in the sounds of all the insects that chirp and click and whir, in an amazing chorus every dawn and dusk, Samuel sends us all a song of love from his heart.   ‘Tis the season to be blessed, especially by a bug named Samuel.

 I wish you a very happy day and a beautiful year filled with deeply meaningful communication.  Love Sandy

Jenny, my sweet puppy, and I met Darla the Dragonfly on a strangely cool Florida morning…strange because it was near the end of April, and April is almost always very hot and humid and this particular morning it was not only cool, but it was dry. Just a short time before, the weather had been getting hotter, and it seemed as if the cool weather was gone. A wind was puffing soft breezes around us and I was very sure it would be the last cool day until the fall. I wanted to go outdoors to feel what seemed like an unexpected gift of a breeze and fresh air before it left us.

Even though she is a dog, Jenny and I both know that she is more than what most people think of when they think of dogs.  Jenny has her way of talking with me.  She talks to me by the way she tips her head, by the way she taps me with her foot and the way she barks. Just like babies who have different cries…Jenny has different barking sounds that let me know when she is hungry, when she is thirsty, when she wants to go outside or when someone is about to come to the door.  She knows the sounds of other people’s cars and different barks to let me know who is coming.  She has a special bark to let me know that the water deliveryman is coming at least five minutes before he comes to my door.  Jenny knows when I am happy and when I am sad.  If I have been working too long writing at my computer, she comes and taps my foot to let me know it is time to stop.  All I have to do is look at her for just a little while and I can tell what she wants me to know.  That is what can happen when you really get to know someone.

Jenny and I began our walk around 8:30 that morning. Some days Jenny picks the shorter walks, but this day, she seemed to want to spend more time looking at tiny wild flowers and chasing squirrels that squawked at us as we passed by.  We were breathing in the fresh air and enjoying our wanderings that took us the long way along the winding paths, through the trees and beside the picnic areas.

My dog and I were both hungry for breakfast as we headed up the first flight of stairs and began to ascend the second flight on our way to my third floor apartment when Jenny jumped back in surprise and then pulled at her leash to get a closer look at a large green bug sitting on the fourth step.  I held tight to the leash to keep her from hurting the beautiful flying creature and moved us both to the edge of the steps to continue our climb to the top floor.

After unleashing Jenny, I grabbed my camera, headed out the door and back down the stairs to see if I might have the good fortune of taking a photograph of the Dragonfly before she flew away.  As I turned the corner, there she was, this lovely green being with radiantly golden wings, just sitting there.  I walked down to the second floor landing and then got as close as I dared, to make sure I would not frighten my new friend and began to study her wings, her back, her head and legs.  I asked her if it would be OK for me to take a picture and she didn’t seem to mind.  In that moment, though I can’t tell you how I knew it, I knew that her name was Darla.  I had never seen something as beautiful as she.

I sat on the second step and quietly watched…but Darla remained very still except for her golden wings that lifted and fell gently as puffs of wind blew through the breezeway.  I watched her for several minutes but her body was motionless.  I was not sure what might cause a dragonfly to just stand in one place, not moving at all when wind blew against her or when a human being sat down beside her.

I carefully placed my hand down onto the cement step just in front of Darla.  I inched it closer to her to see if she would like to check me out.  But she did not move.  I continued to keep my hand there for quite some time.  It surprised me that she did not even try to step backward.  That made me wonder if she was all right or not.  It seems that most animals will try to withdraw if people get too close to them.

In the past, I have seen hundreds of dragonflies soaring through the air so many different times. I often went out on the balcony of my apartment three floors above an alligator pond and jungle-like forest that goes on as far as the eye can see to watch birds and pond creatures.  On warm days it was not unusual to see a dozen or so dragonflies flying above the pond and past my balcony looking like tiny helicopters speeding through the sky, flitting and darting around faster than hummingbirds, but in all of that time, I have never seen a dragonfly just sitting there without moving for so long.

The darling dragonfly’s back leg was stretched back and her long tail looked like it might have been harmed, but I was not sure.  I had gone back to see her without my glasses and it is hard for me to see clearly without them, so I could only guess what might be happening. Could she be very weak and afraid?  Might she be injured and unable to move?  Is it possible that someone stepped on her leg or her tail and she couldn’t fly?  Is she very old and preparing to die?  Is she very young and is afraid to fly?  So many thoughts were in my head.  I wanted to be sure that the she was all right; but I, also, didn’t want to do anything that might hurt her, so I just waited. And then this very still dragonfly lifted her front leg and gently wiped it across her very large eye. I smiled with delight and thanked her for moving so that I could see that her little body was working just fine, but, now, I wanted to see her more clearly.

I decided to go back to my apartment to get my glasses and when I returned, she was still there, in exactly the same place as she had been all along.  But with my glasses, I could see here even more clearly than before.  I could see Darla’s eyes and was able to see that she was actually looking at me.  I was even more amazed at how beautiful she was. I was pretty sure that she would not understand my spoken words, so I decided to talk with her by using my thoughts…it is more like opening up your heart and mind to really good, loving thoughts and sending the message of those thoughts from my head to hers, from my heart to hears.  This is how I talk with Jenny and she with me most of the time, although she has been around me so much and me around her that we know each others’ sounds.  Darla had never been around me and would probably not understand my sounds.  After sending thoughts to Darla, I asked her to tell me anything she thought might be useful to me.  We just looked into each others’ eyes for a while, and I let my heart and mind open to whatever she might want to send to me.

I began to study her delicate body.  It was so amazingly beautiful.  She had three pair of legs, the front two were shorter than the middle pair and the back pair was the longest of the three. Her green body was clear enough to be able to see what was on the inside of her.  I could see her what looked like her lungs and the other body organs.  It was like she had absolutely nothing to hide.  She was just her beautiful self.  I kept talking with her all the while.

I looked so closely at Darla’s wings.  They shimmered in the light as if they were made of spun gold.  Nothing I had ever seen looked so beautiful.  I took several pictures of her wings, but the flash from the camera went right through her delicate wings and all I could see was the cement instead of the gold.  I was disappointed because it seemed as if the magnificence of those wings was lost.  Picture after picture, the beautiful shinning wing became just a blur to the eye of the camera, and the gold could not be seen.  In one special moment, Darla lifted her wing, just a little and I took another picture.  Not until later in the day was I able to see the wonder of those wings in that one picture I took when she shifter her wing just enough to let me see what I had been unable to see before.

Though my camera could not capture the shimmer of her wings, I was amazed at what did come through when I looked at my photographs on my computer later in the day.   There, on my large computer screen, was a something that I was unable to see in the camera lens or with my own eyes because of the shimmering light that reflected off of her wings.  Darla’s wings had a pattern that was so perfect.  I could see that each of the sections of her wings was made up of tiny shapes that were all interconnected.  Each shape was made by tiny fibers that could get bigger or smaller by stretching or by relaxing.  When each one worked together with the rest of them, her wing could change shape and they could tip and flap so very fast that when she flew all someone could see is the light flashing off of them.  When she flew, the patterns could change to let her wings lift her up or let her change direction so very fast.  All the parts of the wing were important and each one, connected to all of the other ones had to work together to let her fly.

Darla was teaching me so much by letting me look at her wings.  Even now as I write this to you, she is teaching me.  After taking that picture she and I talked with each other in our minds and hearts, without words.  Most of what she said seemed to be going into a place that I could not hear in my thoughts, but I knew that I was listening to her anyway.

After we talked in that silent way for a while, Darla lifted up her front leg and tapped the cement step several times.  She repeated the tapping again, and again, as if she was giving me a signal and then she held her leg up in the air.  I noticed the distance between her leg and the step and thought that there might be just enough room for my little finger to slip under her leg without touching her.  As soon as I did that, Darla rested her tiny hand on my fingernail.

I felt my heart open with delight and I thanked Darla for trusting me enough to touch me.  She remained there for quite some time.  It was as if she was sending me messages, and picking up messages from me.  As carefully as I could, I held the camera in my other hand and took a picture of this special meeting between Sandy and Darla.

And then in what seemed like an even more magical moment, Darla placed her other leg on the other side of my finger.  Still standing in the same position she had been in from the very beginning, she had allowed me to get close enough and then she hugged me.

After some time in this hug, Darla took a step closer to me and brought her second pair of legs to my finger.  She carefully grabbed a hold of me and then lifted herself and her back legs to fully climb up on me and let go of the step.  I could feel her tiny feet moving on my skin trying hard to find her balance.

I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to feel her little feet walking on my finger.  I could feel the delicate little hands and feet shift and grab making sure they were snug as she took each step.  She had tiny fibers on her legs that helped her hold tightly as she walked so that a puff of wind would not blow her off or send her tumbling down onto some hard and damaging surface.  She seemed so trusting, like a little baby when it reaches out to hold the finger of its mother to help in lifting up or in walking. I wanted to be very careful to not disturb Darla.  In a few minutes, I gently lifted my finger into the air and held Darla up close to my face so I could see her and she could see me.  She turned around on my finger and I couldn’t take a picture as I had before, so I just held the camera in the air and shot a picture hoping that I had been able to catch the image.

Sensing that the picture might not have been the very best, I began to take a second picture of her completely on my finger when I lost the grip on my camera and it started to fall out of my hand.  Even though I held my finger as still as possible while grabbing the camera with my other hand, Darla must have felt the shift in energy.  And she flew from my finger, up into the sky and into a very beautiful oak tree that grows next to my building.

At first I felt very sad thinking that I must have scared her away…but as I connected with her in my heart-thoughts, she told me that she used the energy from my quick movement to re-supply her with enough power to lift up and fly away.

I wished her a good flight and a good life and as she flew, I sent heart-thoughts to my new little friend letting her know that it was OK for her to share with all her other dragonfly friends what she had learned from me, and my heart heard her tell me that she would be pleased if I told human beings about her, as well.

I told her that anytime she wanted to know something about herself or someone else, whether that someone was another dragonfly or a human, or anyone at all, she could go to that place inside her heart where it is possible to connect with heart-thoughts and she could easily sense what filled the heart of the other.  From that inner place of trusting and loving, it is possible to learn far more than you ever thought you could know, and sometimes you can discover that the heart of the other knows how to love and respect you and that they are safe to trust.    If you let yourself sit very quietly for a while, you can know so much more by just sensing if you can talk with the others’ heart like Darla and I discovered.

After saying good-bye my heart was so filled with happiness that I had the good fortune to be right there when Darla was there.  And if I had not had the time that morning, I would not have spent that magical hour with Darling Darla the Dragonfly

The next afternoon, when I took Jenny out for her afternoon walk, a beautiful butterfly that looked just like Darla flitted past me and landed in a bush very near.  I tipped my head as if to say hello Darla, and she flew up high into the trees as if to demonstrate the power of her magnificent wings.  Maybe it was her way of coming back to say thank you.  Even as I write this, my heart can sense that it was Darla.  She wanted me to know for sure that when she left it was not because she was afraid that she would be hurt.  She knew that even though I had moved quickly to save my camera, at the same time I was careful to not move in a way that would bring harm to her.

 Later on, I wanted to learn more about dragonflies, so I looked up the word on the Internet.  I came across many web sites about dragonflies and began reading.  I found out that there are over 6,000 species of dragonflies and that they are the fastest flying insects in the world.  I found out that each of their big eyes is made up of 12,000 simple eyes.  Like butterflies, they start out as an egg and then hatch into a worm like creature called a Larvae.  But that is where they and butterflies differ.

 While the butterfly lives for a while as a caterpillar and then weaves itself a silk cocoon, like a sleeping bag and then they slowly change into a butterfly, the dragonfly emerges from its egg in the mud or in water with a hard shell-like skin covering it up.  In time it grows and can no longer continue to live and grow in the little hard skin, so it breaks through the skin to grow again.  The new skin becomes hard and shell-like as protection while the dragonfly-to-be grows again and then breaks out of its old confining skin only to do the same thing again and again.  Sometimes they will go through as many as 16 little breakthroughs until they are finally ready to make the last one.  They change from looking like a worm, to an almost fish looking creature, and each time they look less and less like a worm and more and more like a dragonfly, but not until the last time do they begin to use their wings.

 Before the final breakthrough, the dragonfly actually waits for the very best time to climb out of the water and get on to dry land. It waits for a warm sunny day when its wings can have a chance to dry.  If it picks a day that it thinks will be warm but a storm comes or wind begins to blow too hard, the dragonfly can easily die.  So it waits.  Sometimes they might get impatient and come out during a storm, but the chances are very high that if they do, they will die.

 When they break free for the final time, usually early in the morning, they emerge as a complete dragonfly.  When they first come out they are very weak and helpless.  They need good weather to dry their wings, something that can take several hours to happen.  So they need to find someplace that is safe while they dry out.  As their wings unfold, the tiny veins fill up with their kind of blood…and they stretch them out in the sun to dry.

 Darla was stretching and drying when I first came upon her.  I had forgotten something until just now.  When I was sitting on the step, silently talking with Darla, a neighbor came out of his apartment with his very big dog.  Because he saw me sitting on the step, he took the back steps to get to the ground level to take his dog on a walk.  Had I not been there, I am very sure that his big dog would have thought Darla was a fun toy to play with and would have likely put his huge paw right on top of her.

 I wonder if somehow, Darla might have talked to Jenny to let her know to come home from her walk right when she did so that a person, who knew how to talk to dragonfly hearts, could protect Darla.   Perhaps we all have connections with the hearts and the wisdom of everything around us, even if, until this very moment, we hadn’t though about it before.  Now, that is an interesting thought!

The weekend of September 24th, I had the privilege of attending a powerful workshop in the mountains above Denver, Colorado presented by Howard Bad Hand, a Lakota Indian Chief. One of the topics for discussion had to do with what is happening in our world now and in the next 14 months related to the Mayan calendar that has been interpreted by some as marking the ending of human civilization on December 21, 2012. I have read extensively on this subject and have discovered differing perspectives of the meanings attached to our present time and the Mayan calendar.

Some believe the world will literally end following an increasing number of natural disasters that become more intense as that date approaches, destroying more and more of what we know of the world, until some final event obliterates whatever is left. Others believe that the numbers of humankind will be greatly reduced over the course of the time between now and that date, and that some people will remain to rebuild a human civilization based on a balancing of nurturing,  cooperation, and caring, which are healthy feminine principles, with an honoring of the unique qualities of the individual and the protective strength of the healthy masculine energy.

Others believe that we are approaching the End Times as predicted by interpreters of  the Bible who believe this Earth will be destroyed and those who believe in the Gospel will be transported to a New Earth, while the rest will be condemned to eternal hell. Still others believe that we are facing extinction, not unlike the dinosaurs of long ago, and a new species will eventually evolve to take our place bringing on the next cycle of life without humans. Still others believe that both nature and human folly will create unfathomable catastrophes and beings from other planets or galaxies will intercede, whether for good or for bad, to keep the toxic energies of our world from spilling over into the universe. But likely for the vast majority of people, this date of December 21, 2012 means just another day on the calendar, and maybe 4 shopping days until Christmas. And the seasons…they still go round and round on the Carousel of time.

The shaman who was leading our group of close to 20 people, suggested that Westerners interpreted the meaning of the calendar and the date it ends without asking the Mayans for their interpretation. He suggested the Lakota tradition closely aligns with the Mayans as well as a number of other ancient cultures, and they have a different interpretation of what is ahead. Instead of looking to the 21st of December of next year as the significant marked date of either ending, major change, or transformation, they believe the most significant period in human history occurs between the middle to end of October 2011…now!  They believe that as we approach that time in the next few weeks, there will be a series of natural disasters as the living Earth expands and shifts its own consciousness from old ways to the new.

For centuries, the Lakota and Hopi people have predicted that sometime in mid-October of this year, a fiery object will pass between the Earth and the Sun, possibly dragging other celestial objects with it, in a way that will create 3 days of darkness on the Earth. Many other natural disasters and Earth-changes will take place during this celestial phenomenon with the more critical time being between October 26-October 30th. Some believe that the celestial anomaly, called Elenin, which is believed to be a comet that is quickly approaching our solar system that is in the process of passing between the Earth and our Sun, is that fiery object predicted by the ancients.

The tribal interpretation is that this is a time to put the old away and create the new reality individually and globally. He suggested that it is not good to try to fix something that is broken, because if what was had worked, it wouldn’t have been broken. Instead, we need to let go of what is broken and create everything, anew, releasing all attachments to the old. The intention of this major shift in our world, according to the Lakota. is that it will allow movement of human consciousness to align with the consciousness of the Earth toward purification and what is pristine; they interpret the time in which we are living as a time of returning to innocence.

Instead of reacting to the major shifts and changes in the Earth with fear or by trying desperately to cling to the old, Howard Bad Hand recommended that we take this time to go within and meditate on the divine that is within each of us. If we are to move through this time successfully, we need to use the period of darkness as a time to contemplate the changes we need to make so we can create what is new…and to approach the disasters with stillness and peace, the only way we will be able to know what to do with all that is happening.

As a passing thought, he recommended that we consider storing enough water to last us 7 days for that last week of October.

It would be easy to dismiss the Lakota/Mayan interpretation of the last of October or the Western interpretation of the end of December 2012, as nothing more than the January 1st, 2000 scare that in the end amounted to nothing. But, it is possible that one of these two predictions is correct, or for that matter, any of the predictions made by those I mentioned, or any other might be true. I am not a reader of possible futures, and I have no need to make predictions as to which of the many prediction is true or not true, but what I do know, is that, collectively, humankind has, for a very long time, been walking a path that is not sustainable …it is a path that is toxic on many levels of our being, and the conflict that is everywhere is destructive of peace, harmony, justice and wisdom, the values that preserve us. As we look at the news of today, we can see that what we have created is crumbling under our feet because it is not based on connection with the divine in us; it is rooted in fear.  We need to find ways to live our lives differently based on the truth of who we are and the consciousness that knows we are safe because we are connected to the divine, instead of the values and beliefs inherent in conquering and aggrandizing as a way to create safety.

In a very significant way, it does not matter if the October 26-30th, 2011 predictions or the December 21, 2012 predictions literally take place, or if one or the other is really accurate. These predictions may be literal, or they may be figurative, telling us that we are entering a time when we will be given choices to change how we have been in the world. The 3 days of darkness may be a metaphor for what is happening within us and within our world, as we are given opportunity to metaphorically suffer and die, go into hell for 3 days and rise again into a transformed life.

What matters is whether or not we are willing to recognize who we are in our radiant God-Essence and begin living from that truth, whether we have a day, a month, 14 months, years, or decades left to experience living and creating what is good, what is profound, and what is worth maintaining with wisdom and respectful justice. As always, the choice is ours to make.

Today

I love you is not something we say often enough to the people who are closest in our lives, even less, if ever, to people with whom we are not in a close personal relationship, and certainly never to strangers. The likelihood is that I don’t know most of those that may be reading this and that I have not said, “I love you” to you anytime at all. But in the midst of this crazy making day, it seems important to remind human beings of love and caring. For who knows what the next few hours or days may bring.

I am a psychotherapist in Clearwater, Florida. Over the years, I have worked with many people who struggle with rage, often deeply buried and usually unacknowledged. The rage, whether it is justified or not, subtly or overtly affects every aspect of their lives. In the very early beginnings of this 21st century, we seem to be experiencing the expression of rage everywhere, in our homes as family members murder each other, in schools where children shoot children, in businesses where employees turn on employers or fellow workers. And today…ah today… this day, September 11, 2001, we all suffer as the news continues to unfold the horror that will register in the world as a major expression of aggressive rage that impacts us all on so many levels.

As the first building collapsed and then the second, I, like millions, perhaps billions of people, watched with stunning helplessness knowing there was nothing that we could do to prevent or help. After the original impact of the news settled, I contemplated the possibility of so many institutions being affected throughout the nation. I became concerned because I had nearly run out of food for my pets and for me because I had put off going shopping since it is not my favorite activity. I went to the grocery store, contemplating the possibility of massive repercussions later on in the hours ahead. The store was nearly empty, and silent…the streets were silent; the sky was silent.

A store clerk was standing next to a canned food section wiping tears from her eyes. Her brother was on a flight and she didn’t know if he was on one of the four that crashed today.

When I returned home, a neighbor was coming out to her car. Her business was closed and employees sent home because her building held a local FBI office. She had just found out that her brother was on a flight today…the relative who gave her the information did not know which flight and no one had heard from him. She broke down and cried as I held her. As the hours continued through this day today, I thought about other things that have nothing to do with the major human loss. I have just three car payments left on my auto loan and the financial institution where I make my payments is in New York and not available…a thought passed through my mind that I may never get the title to my car. Such a petty concern this seems to be, but it is just one of a billion, billion concerns that can be affected by a single act today.

One of the things that seems to be standing out so clearly in my mind is that we are living in a time when we can no longer count on power to keep us safe. Having arsenals of nuclear weapons and a gigantic military budget cannot keep us safe. Having the greatest wealth, having high degrees of education, having everything that to us has meant power cannot keep us safe. Power is meaningless without empowerment to all. As families who have lost loved ones to other family members, and schools who have lost students to angry child-gunmen, and as nations that have suffered from internal and external attack know, we cannot stop attack with greater attack. This does not work any more. Power does not protect us…

At the end of World War I, the “war to end all wars,” the victorious nations divided up the territory of the defeated nations…and World War II was not averted. At the end of World War II, the victorious nations divided up the territory of the defeated nations…and the hot “Cold War” was not averted. Power-over does not work. It never has. A boy beaten by his father silently rages and waits until he grows big enough to take the belt from his father’s hand, and then he uses it to beat his own children. Power-over methods disempowers the other for a period of time until the disempowered in seething rage attacks back…and it does not seem to matter if the father was justified in thrashing the son, or not, or whether the nation was justified in active defense or not. If anyone rages, whether it be the teenager who is teased to the point of attacking his school mates, or a group or nation that feels it has been shoved aside and its needs unheard, that rage affects us all whether we acknowledge the “justice” of the rage or not. Today is a wake up call and we have to decide if we are going to wake up or not. Today we have to decide if we will respond as we have responded for generations if not for millennia. Will we feel justified in starting World War III? Maybe we can learn to be empowered by releasing the wielding of power in our own personal lives as well as in our actions as a nation and instead begin to listen. Anyone who feels disempowered, even if that one is not powerful can bring the powerful to its knees.

How can we do today differently? I wish I had an answer. But to drop bombs on people killing more and more and more, and having them kill more and more and more does not seem to be it. I wonder what would happen if every human being that reads this chooses to release the belief in power-over in his or her personal life and listens from a place of caring enough to really understand what the other is experiencing. And I wonder what would happen if we decided to tell people that are in our lives that we love them? Perhaps this could happen…today. Storms I sent off the message and went to bed. In the morning, one newspaper editor out of a dozen or so responded with a statement that Today was eloquently written, and friends and family called to tell me they loved me too. Wednesday and Thursday, I wrote a great deal but felt too scattered and wounded to pull my writing together in any meaningful way. I couldn’t not watch the television reports and my heart ached for the loss, for the agony that was being reflected…and I began to feel concern for other reports that contained hatred instead of sadness. Innocent people in our own country were receiving bomb threats because of their family’s national origin. A report from a local station stated that there had been a gigantic increase in the purchase of guns, many by first time buyers. All of this was going on while the 8th named tropical storm was brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, but few people here seemed to care that it was reported to be headed directly for Tampa Bay, where I live. Gabrielle was becoming a threat but almost no one had concern enough to buy supplies or protect their homes with plywood over windows as in the past. Everything in the Tampa Bay area closed down on Friday, September 14th and all of my clients cancelled their appointments. The storm did not become a hurricane but we were drenched with flood causing rain, and winds were significant. Staying home because the storm allowed me to continue watching the events unfold events that almost every American, and perhaps most of the world was watching with me. I watched the services at the National Cathedral and listened to the religious leaders from several religions quote from their Holy Scriptures, to the Reverend Billy Graham speak of evil and of healing and I listened to the President. Late in the evening, I wrote another response to the day, to the past days and again sent it to friends and as before edited it and sent it to newspapers. Again, there was only one response out of the two dozen or so newspaper editors to whom I had sent E-mail messages. But the one I received was not like the first. The article I wrote was titled:

Mirror of Evil

During the prayer and mourning service at the National Cathedral this past Friday, Reverend Billy Graham mentioned that many had asked him, “Why does God allow such evil to be in the world?” Graham responded with, “I don’t know, but the older I get, the more I cling to hope.” Others responding to that question said that evil exists because God has given us choice and without the choice of evil, our choice for good would be meaningless. I would suggest that perhaps there is a deeper reason that evil exists. It is possible that it exists to reflect to us the aspects of ourselves that we cannot see because of the pain we have within us that blinds us to who we are and what we do. I believe that evil is the name that we give to identify those who have committed acts that we do not understand that have caused us great pain. And we are all capable of committing acts that others do not understand that cause pain since each of us has within us all that is human. As human beings, we create our lives. We choose what we create out of our humanity. What we create draws to us what we have created. If I am a person of compassion, I create compassion in everything I touch—, and if what is commonly called violence crosses my path, I experience it with compassion. If I am a being of confusion, one who is experiencing confusion internally, I create confusion around me, and if violence crosses my path, I am confused. If I am a being of vengeance, of rage, of hate, of fear, then when September 11, 2001, crosses my path I want vengeance, or I rage at those who hurt me, I hate them, or I am afraid. I may commit acts out of my vengeance or out of my rage, or even out of my fear. Others who are looking at my actions may call them evil, though I may call them understandable and justifiable. But if I call any of those feelings evil or unacceptable, I will disconnect from them, I will not see them in myself, and only see them in others. Each of us has all that is human in us, including the “evil” that we can see in those who committed this atrocity on September 11. And what comes to us is a mirror that allows us to see what we would not see without it. This horror that rained down on us just a few short days ago, when seen as a mirror, reflected to some of us sadness or compassion; to others it reflected hopelessness and fear. Still others had raging anger that when one looks closely, looks very much like the raging anger expressed by the hijackers that is being reflected back to them. We can gain a broader and deeper sense of ourselves by observing what we felt in the aftermath of the horror. This beautiful nation that is my motherland has provided me a life of freedom and opportunity I likely would not have experienced anywhere else in the world. This wonderful life was given to me because America has been a nation with the qualities of freedom, of strength, of pride, of compassion. But this country has also had embedded in its foundational characteristics the shadow side of these qualities. While we have been a nation of freedom, we have also been a nation of slavery and have not noticed how the institution of slavery still silently exists, invisible now, but it is still there for some. We have been a nation of strength, but we have also been a nation of dominance. We have at times taken from others without asking and have required submission without caring what it felt like for those under our domination. We have been a people of pride, but also of arrogance and with that arrogance we have assumed that what is in our interest is in the interest of the world, sometimes without noticing how what we have done impacts the people that experience what we do. We have reached out to help others in need in amazing ways that have brought us to tears, but we have also manipulated other peoples. An American of Middle Eastern descent described an experience he had a few weeks ago while covering a story on Islamic militancy training grounds based in Pakistani religious schools that are believed to groom young Muslim boys to be terrorists. This reporter asked one of the leaders questions about their hatred for the US. The response of the militant leader to the young American’s question was surprising to me. The answer was that during the Cold War, the US and Afghanistan were allies fighting a war against the Soviets. He explained that we had given the Afghans weapons and trained their men. We built roads and fed their people. We supported the Taliban and made them our friends. But then the Cold War ended and America deserted them. Because it was no longer in our interest to have them as our allies, we abandoned them and left them hungry, and hateful. We turned our friends into foes because we used them and discarded them like whores. Our national policy makers are responding to this current crisis by suggesting that we offer carrots again, promising economic aide, and giving assistance to the countries that we need to cooperate with us in this “first war of the 21st century. We, in America, have risen to our place in the world by our hard work, our individualism, and our commitment to excellence. But we have also done so without seeing the part of ourselves that did not respect minorities, that did not respect women, that did not respect the environment. Neither did we notice that we lacked respect for people of other nations nor did we see them with the same dignity as we gave to ourselves. We did not notice how that disrespect caused deeply rooted hatred against us by the very people who attempted to emulate us. We act surprised when a former ally turns against us in what from our perspective is such an insane and evil way. And on the home front, we act surprised when our children reflect to us the values that we unconsciously hold, values that they see because they live closer to us than to the words we speak to ourselves that cover those unconscious values with the higher ones. We speak of equality of men and women, but the vast majority of the most influential people in our nation are men. What have our children learned as they experience us as living this out our unconscious truth? We speak of equality of men and women, but our magazines and media display women as sexual objects, and we judge ourselves by how we look instead of who we are. We are surprised to find millions of our girls suffering from anorexia and bulimia. We speak of equality of the races and we hide our prejudices from ourselves, while our children join Neo-Nazi groups or buy music videos that speak of murderous hatred for those not like them. We speak of love, but we don’t take time to love and our children are lonely, empty, angry, and in pain; they may eat to cover their loneliness, fill their emptiness, or hide their anger, and we are shocked by this generation of obese children. They drug themselves to cover the pain of emptiness, and we fight back with a losing war on drugs. They attack each other and us to express their anger and pain and we build jails and suggest that teachers arm themselves. Many of us have stopped looking at what we do with pride of accomplishment of something good and have grown into a people who look at what we earn as a statement of our worth. We cannot see that too many of us no longer care about the quality of what is done to earn money, as long as riches result. Our worth is no longer seen an innate quality we hold within us but is our economic bottom line. Forty years ago Nikita S. Khrushchev, the Premier of USSR, proclaimed that America would collapse from the inside, not from the outside. Some of us have wondered if he knew more about us than we did about ourselves. And in the middle of all of this internal chaos, planes crash into the Trade Center Buildings and the Pentagon and we are in unfathomable pain. The very best of who we are comes out. In the highest sense of compassion, we give blood; we offer help and support those who dig through the rubble in search for life or for those who have died to bring peace to their families. We work ’round the clock, we pray, we light candles and we connect with our families and tell people we have not told in a long time that we love them. Our president walks in freedom among the people of New York and our leaders come together in freedom to pray in the National Cathedral to let the world know that we will remain free. We show our strength and resolve to not let this tragedy destroy who we are, and we renew our national pride… But we also respond from the other part of ourselves; our pain turns into fear; our fear touches our anger and we begin to display what we have hidden from ourselves for so long. There is the mirror. If we would look at what such an act of horror brings out of us we will be able to see ourselves in a way that we could never have seen before. Are we hateful, vengeful, or filled with prejudice against anyone who looks Middle Eastern? Do we consider what it must feel like to be a person of Middle Eastern heritage, as patriotic as anyone else, and to see the fear or anger in the eyes of those who were friends or acquaintances? Can we imagine what it feels like to come home and find your home trashed, your windows broken or to receive threats simply because of the sound of your last name? How different is this response to those made guilty for something they didn’t do than Jews in Hitler’s Germany or Japanese Americans in World War II? When we contemplate what might be a war with others because of what we believe they have done to us, do we see the civilians in other countries, or those in this country who have Middle Eastern heritage as collateral of a justifiable war? Do we not notice that this is exactly the cause for which we curse our enemies? Do we run out and buy guns and not notice what this means about us: that we are willing to contemplate killing another human being? That we no longer see strangers as friends we have not yet met, but instead see them as enemies, especially if they speak with an accent and have olive skin? There is the mirror. Do we drop into hopelessness and deep fear? Do we lose faith? Do we disconnect from ourselves as eternal spirit and shake inside with fear? Are we so afraid of death that we disconnect from life? There is the mirror. Do we find ourselves reveling in the idea of turning the deserts of another country into a parking lot and wish to kill five of “them” for every one of us that “they’ killed to let them know not to mess with us again? Do we not notice that we have become exactly like the enemy who mirrors to us ourselves? If we wish to rid the world of evil, we must first look into ourselves by looking into the mirror that a horrible event as this past Tuesday has provided. If we find out why we hate, why we wish to hurt others, why we are in pain, why we are terrified, we can bring healing to our own wounds. This is the deepest purpose for evil–evil that God does not allow—but rather evil that we have created to see ourselves as others see us. If we had been a strong nation, deeply caring, deeply just, filled with compassion, and with spiritual connection, we would not have needed to experience the mirroring of ourselves in this horrible act that was inflicted upon us. We would not have committed acts that caused other nations or even our own countrymen to turn against us in rage. We can heal from this if we are willing to look in the mirror. If we choose to not look but instead to blame and seek revenge, we will continue to create what we unconsciously hold as our truth…and this will create other mirrors. Perhaps someday, those who hate us will learn to see that what they hate in us is a mirror of themselves, just as what we see as evil in them is a mirror for us. Let us not hate, but if we do, let us acknowledge it, and heal it in ourselves. God bless us all. Sincerely, Dr. Sandy Sela-Smith Another response

As in the previous nights since the infamous Tuesday, I woke to find a single response from one of the editors to whom I sent this letter. He wrote: You do have some strange intellectual bedfellows: Pat Robertson and Jerry Fallwell. So, America is imperfect and must pay for its sins! You just see different sins in your mirror than these pseudo-clerics see in theirs. If we employ the means of the enemy, we are no better than the enemy? Since we ourselves are not without sin, we should cast no stones? As long as you insist on being trite, why don’t you try this one: All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

You would say: “but evil is in the eye of the beholder.” And that is precisely the point here…..this is a we/they thing. It may be the sophisticated “in thing” for intellectuals to stand above the fray but, when you do so, you are the freeloaders (or is “scabs” more politically correct?) of this society….you want the advantages of civilization but quail when it’s time to pay the dues. Worse, like the French government always can be counted on to do, you manage to carp when others step up to the challenge! Deja vu sister: the Romans became too self-centered and fastidious to fight the barbarians and the price was the loss of their way of life.

The word “war” in its full and primal sense is the only appropriate word. There has been no “crime” committed here and there is no basis to “bring the perpetrators to justice.” We have no shared values with them, there is no jury of their “peers” that could be assembled, and there is no compromise or diplomatic solution available…..they and anyone who supports them must be eradicated. I just hope that twit in the White House is prepared for the tedious and protracted struggle (that will outlast his presidency) and the full and grisly ramifications of what now needs done.

This isn’t about hate……and certainly not about people of middle-eastern origins, here or abroad. It is about the sacrifices necessary to preserve the values and institutions of the freest and best society yet to appear on the face of this earth. If we turn the other cheek, we will be slapped as hard and repeatedly as Neville Chamberlain.

And what is this “God bless us all” cop-out? Why can’t you just stand up straight and proud and say what needs said: God bless America?

Late Sunday Evening, September 15, 2001, I responded with the following comments:

I have thought a great deal about your response to my writing. Honestly, I was surprised at how attacked I felt so I decided to work with my own response before sending anything to you. I wanted to understand how I might have said what I did in a way that hurt you and wanted to apologize for doing so. I wanted to tell you that though I don’t know you I love you as a fellow human being and it was not my intention to bring you pain. I read and reread what you wrote to me and decided to send a response in the interest of communicating with integrity. The text of what I wrote follows:

Thank you for responding with passion and honesty. Your message back to me contains points with which I agree and a few points that I believe may have been based on a misunderstanding of the point I hoped to make by writing. My intention was to ask readers to take time during this horrific experience to look within themselves to bring healing to inner wounds by noticing their own responses to the events of September 11. I do agree that we must search out and bring to justice those who perpetrated these acts against thousands of innocent people. But if we do not introspect, and instead respond with only vengeance, we will not be able to free ourselves from future horrors. I also believe there is a difference between resolve and revenge.

Though you point out that this isn’t about hate and not about people of middle-eastern origins, here or abroad, the evidence from internet postings, from talk radio shows, and from television programs is that some and maybe many of us have made it so. What I wrote was not about government policy; it was about ourselves and our internal responses that indicate what we may be contributing to the fires of hatred against us. Their hatred is about them, and certainly what they have done will bring repercussions from the US and perhaps other nations that reflect their hatred back to them what they sent out to us this past Tuesday.

The Muslim leader I referenced denounced the US for offering aid and then ceasing to give aid. What I believe was at the core of the rage and vengeance he expressed was not that we treated them like whores, which was his interpretation of our action, but rather that they felt like “whores” and likely felt shame for acting like ‘whores.” They could not bare to hold these feelings and decided to see us as the ‘whore mongers.” As a result, they could see that we were the ones that were evil, which allowed them to feel justified in attacking us in such a horrible display on Tuesday. Like you, I believe there will be many sacrifices that will be necessary to preserve the values and institutions of this great nation. And I do not suggest that we turn the other cheek in blind acceptance of continued assaults. However, I do believe that if we do not use this opportunity to look deeply into ourselves to heal what is in us we will be fighting wars throughout eternity. Years after the pain of Vietnam, a few American and Vietnam soldiers came together to talk about their feelings about each other and about themselves. At first, it was extremely difficult to look at each other when they had seen only evil before. In the process of the experiment in human relations, men who had been enemies, who had no understanding of each, other began to see humanity in the other. For these people, there will be no passing on of mutual hatred as an inheritance to their grandchildren.

I do not believe that we “must pay for our sins” as you suggested. I believe that it is inevitable that we will receive back what we give out, not as judgment or punishment, but as a natural law of nature. I am not saying that if we employ the means of the enemy, we are no better than the enemy. I am saying that if we act from the same hatred as the enemy, the same desire for vengeance, and the same disregard for all that we have valued as a nation, then yes, we would become like the enemy.

I also agree that the famous quotation that all that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing remains true. But we must be willing to self reflect to be sure that our actions are coming from goodness instead of from raging hate that we camouflage with patriotism, righteousness, or justice, and that may see enemies in innocent people.

You suggested that I would say that evil is in the eye of the beholder. And on the human level, I would agree with your conclusion, though on the higher level evil is pain responded to by hate. I am sure the hijackers who sacrificed their lives for their cause would not call themselves evil…they would likely call themselves righteous and holy patriots. But we won’t be able to stop what we interpret as evil by stomping it out with a vengeance. With each explosive stomp, more rage in them will be generated for our children and grandchildren to face. We will become a part of a world that has lived for millennia with inherited rage. We have a choice here. We don’t have to begin a war that will engulf the entire world and perhaps destroy it. While protecting ourselves, we can also be willing to look within to see what we have done, what we are doing to generate hatred among other people. This requires the greatest amount of involvement, not standing above it all as you suggest.

To say that Rome fell because it became too self-centered and fastidious to fight the barbarians does not fit the history that I have read. Their way of life was based on conquering other people, calling those other people barbarians and inferior because they were not Roman and defended themselves against being overtaken. Romans then used those they conquered as slaves to fight other barbarians. The loss of their way of life was a natural result of them living lives based on demeaning others.

Notice how easy it can be to tag those who ask for something as simple as introspection and self-healing in this devastating experience to be labeled as “intellectuals” a label that has caused millions of Chinese to lose their lives in the last century. It can be easy to identify those who speak out with other viewpoints as freeloaders or as “scabs.’ These were fire causing words in the last century that were used to attack and kill people who had different viewpoints about labor and the right to work than the opinions held by union members who fought against wealthy management. Notice the anger felt by those who attacked others as scabs and defended it with righteous fervor is so similar to the anger felt the terrorist groups who have attacked wealthy America. And in a single sentence, the French are verbally attacked as well, and those who disagree with the call to massive and vengeful war are compared to the French with an assumption that dissenters deserve to be attacked as well.

I do not see a prayer for God to bless us all as a cop-out. Instead I see it as a plea for humanity to notice responses, and take responsibility for how those responses continue to create the lives that each of us experience, personally and collectively. That, in the long run, will be the only way that we can offer all of our world’s children and grandchildren a world that will feel the blessings of God.

The Days Ahead

What we do in the days ahead will direct the path on which innumerable generations to come will walk. My prayer for us all is that we will make those decisions as consciously and carefully as we can. Those yet unborn are counting on us.

I was walking with my dog, as I do every morning, when I realized how concerned I was that I would have to pay more income tax than I had expected this year. My income had unexpectedly increased near the end of last year, and I had not planned for this in my quarterly withholding. I had actually postponed figuring my taxes until the very last moment because I resisted the idea of having to write a check that would reduce my savings to a point that would cause me to feel financially unsafe.

It occurred to me that my fear around having what seemed like disproportionately high taxes fueled a conscious and more often an unconscious secondary fear of earning too much money. As I reflected on my past behaviors, I became aware that instead of being pleased with a financially strong month, I would hold my breath and think that maybe my next month would be smaller, to even out the income over the year. This thought actually had the power to produce what I had quietly wished for, which was to not make “too much” money by making unconscious choices that had the effect of limiting my income.

As soon as I realized what I was creating, I decided to joyfully complete my tax returns and write what for me was a large check with gratefulness, first for having the money to write the check and secondly for having earned enough that required me to write it. I felt a deep sense of relaxation and pleasure in letting go of an old fearful limitation as I wrote the numbers and signed my name. I opened myself to create what I truly want in this arena, which is freedom to make the choices in my life that are in my highest and best, with or without what seems like an adequate monetary safety net. A far more reliable safety net is the one created by trusting Spirit within me. Whenever I have made a decision that lovingly supports my experience of the unfolding of my life, whatever I needed has come to me, sometimes in what has felt like miraculous ways.

Before leaving for China , 15 years ago, I felt a profound inner urging to schedule a number of Ayurvedic cleansing treatments with a new young Indian doctor, Verinder Sodhi, who had just opened his offices 5 minutes from my home. There was no question that he was a gifted healer. I felt I needed his work, which would strengthen my body to withstand what I was sure to experience in China . Dr. Sodhi told me how many sessions he felt I must have and what the cost would be, an amount that I simply did not have. But I told him to schedule the first of the series of appointments and I would find the way to pay for them. When I arrived home, there was a call on my answering machine from a friend who wondered if I would be willing to sell a few items of furniture before I left for China and the amount he offered was exactly the amount of the full series of treatments. I both cried in joy for the answered heart-prayer and thanked God for such profound and immediate support.

More recently, I decided I needed to buy a new car because the one I had been driving for 9 years needed more work on it to remain functional and it was getting only 14 miles a gallon on a good day. I took in a deep breath and wrote out a check for a down payment on a car that on its worst day would get twice the mileage. As I wrote out the check, I thought that I could easily earn back the amount of that check and be just fine. Within the next few days, my appointments nearly doubled and by the end of the month’s time, I had earned not only my normal monthly income, but also the full amount of that check.

Just writing this has brought back so many times that I made choices to attend conferences, to participate in trainings, to do so many things that I knew would enhance my life and growth when fear would have caused me to say no. And I can see how I was supported in so many unexpected ways.

So, I celebrate this tax day and the check that will go in with my tax return papers this year. And I know I can earn that back many times over this coming year, After all, the better the IRS does with me, is directly related to how much better I do, as well.

What a wonderful thought that you and I can benefit from the release of the limiting thoughts that no longer serve our highest and best. Life is good!

Below you will find the first chapter of my nearly finished book with a working title of Healing. In early 2003 a CD that I had recorded with Daniel Kobialka, violinist from San Francisco’s Philharmonic Orchestra, was produced. (You can listen to an excerpt of it by clicking on the Shop icon and then clicking on CDs.) I wanted to help listeners to discover how to reconnect with the inner place of healing, a place that no one else or nothing else outside the self can find for another person. This is a still point place inside you that you can only know by experiencing it. As I began to sell the CDs, I realized that there was something more that needed to be done to help those who were interested to understand the relationship of finding the still point and experiencing healing. So I began writing a book to augment the process introduced in the CD. The book is nearly finished. Below is the first chapter of that book.

Finding the Still Point

The other day I stepped out on the balcony of my third floor apartment to take in the evening. I looked over the deep green lake behind my apartment that looks as if it were in my back yard. Behind the lake is a sub-tropical wildlife preserve, with trees shrouded in thick vines that extend as far as the eye can see creating the kind of image often found in storybook forests. Everything was so very still in that moment just before sunset. The alligators and giant turtles that live in and around the lake had already slipped back into the water from their sunning places along the water’s edge, as the warmth of the day was just beginning to take on the cool softness of a Fall evening on the Gulf side of Florida. The frogs and birds were just beginning their nightly chorus, that on evenings such as this, often turned my memories from the present to a not-so-distant yesterday, when I was lulled to sleep by the dense sounds of wildlife on the Amazon in the Brazilian Jungles. In that moment, just a few days before beginning this book, I felt so amazingly connected to that deep inner quietness—the magical place where the pulse of life rests for just a moment in the still point that opens up to a most healing peace.

It struck me how little we human beings, including myself, take the time to be a part of such peaceful stillness. We seem to have gotten so used to noise, to intensity, to inner and outer conflict and to non-stop action that we don’t know how to deal with the in-between moments of stillness, or much worse, we have forgotten that something such as stillness exists. And we suffer because it is only in stillness that we can heal.

The human body, like the bodies of every other living thing in the natural world, was created to extend itself out into the world; to expand, to discover, to connect, to take in what is out there. Then after a full extension, it draws itself back inside to refocus and connect with itself, to assimilate what it has taken in, to use what it can and to release what it cannot use. The body pulses with a rhythm of expansion and contraction, like breathing in and breathing out. And in between the pulse of the outward reaching and the inward motion, the taking in and the releasing, is a still point, a quiet place between the next filling and releasing cycle.

If we allow ourselves to drop into a very deep state of awareness, we can feel that inner pulse, that inner rhythm of expansion, contraction and still point. It goes on and on expansion …contraction…still point…expansion…contraction…still point…that flows on and on like the never-ending movement of ocean waves rolling in and out without effort yet with profound rhythmic strength. Between the ebb and the flow cycle of that internal rhythm is a moment of stillness, as in the ocean—there is a moment of stillness when everything is suspended, if even for a microsecond, before the next cycle begins. In that moment of suspension, everything returns to oneness, to a fleeting, yet profound safety, a moment of connection, of rightness, of wholeness, of love—this is the time between cycles when expansion ceases, when contraction releases and we are completely…at rest…

This time of rest, whether it is the rest period between the ebb and flow of the ocean or after the opening and closing of a flower, is a time for renewal. The period between the opening and closing of a cell, the opening and closing of a body organ, or the opening and closing that is with us in our waking and sleeping cycle, is the time of healing. I also suspect that this still point moment, this pause between the cycles, might even exist after the opening and closing of lifetimes. Without this rest period, we cannot heal.

If our lives are in constant extension, pushing, shoving, running, hurrying, struggling, pursuing, we do not give ourselves enough time for rest. Too often, rest is seen as wasting time or losing the edge that will allow us to come out on top, whatever coming out on top means to us. Rest might even be experienced as life threatening, especially for those whose lives have taught them to believe that hyper vigilance is a necessary component of living. So our rest times are not times of rest, not even when we sleep.

If our lives are in constant contraction, withdrawing, holding in, pushing down, holding tight, we dare not allow surrender into rest, we do not allow ourselves to open to a time of suspension, because surrender or suspension feels as if it means annihilation. For those of us who live with constant contraction, rest would mean loss of control, of becoming vulnerable to an outside world that we believe would crush what is inside of us. Or perhaps, rest might cause what is held in or pushed down to come out. And we fear that coming out would betray the self that is trying so hard to be acceptable to a world that we have learned to believe does not accept who we are. The still point feels too threatening; we remain stuck in contraction.

Some of us have little if any respite from anxiousness, a potential result of being stuck in either contraction or in extension. We run, and run, and run, always looking over our shoulders for what we believe is chasing us, or perhaps fearing looking over our shoulders, because we are afraid that what is threatening us will destroy us if our taking time to look causes us to slow down. If we could only find the way to the calming stillness deep within us, we might be able to dislodge ourselves from the thought-circles that trap us in what feels like a never ending struggle to be free of this inner world of churning whirlpools of fear. For whatever cause, we fear the world—because of who we believe we are or because of what we believe is out there—and what the world will do to us if we attempt to connect with the world or open to let the world connect with us.

Some of us have learned how to live on what appears to be the calm surface of the ocean, pretending that calmness goes all the way down to the ocean floor. We hope to hide from others and perhaps, even from ourselves, the turbulence below. But when we hide in the false calmness of the surface, we fear the quiet times, the moments alone, and the silence that has a way of reminding us of what lies beneath.

Others of us struggle with the inner wars of depression. We don’t run or push ourselves with intensity, but instead we hear the unrelenting voice of self-judgment tormenting us with our unworthiness or we feel the nagging agony of hopelessness eating away at our insides. Somehow we fear that if we connect with others, they will find out who we really are, and who we are will be rejected because of our unworthiness.

Or we may fear that if we connect with others, we will find out who they really are, and that knowledge, we believe, will destroy us; we don’t want to know that people who were supposed to love us don’t know how to love. We may push ourselves to act as though we are connecting, in a futile attempt to free ourselves from another kind of trap, a depression that keeps us in an inner prison where we are both the prisoner and the prison guard, and we feel so very alone.

Often, we have hidden the traps, the conflicts, and the inner struggles from ourselves; we attempt to live as if all is well, but the tension and stress of the ongoing contraction or the ongoing extension exhausts us. When there is no rest, our life- force becomes more and more depleted, and our body organs fail to operate effectively. We are unable to remain in balance and might find ourselves battling illnesses, which reflect to us, what we cannot, or will not see. Bodies, which are long stressed by unresolved tension, conflict, and struggle, can break down in exhaustion of the immune system, in disorders of the nervous system, in dysfunction in the gastrointestinal system, in collapse of the adrenal system, or failure of the cardiovascular system.

For too many hours of too many days and too many years, the struggles and the conflicts can cause our systems to be in high tension, on never-ending alert. We are constantly on guard, ready to attack, to defend, to run, or to pull in and hold on tight with little or no time to rest. And we may not even know that we are carrying such tension; it is our normal way of being.

If our bodies were made to experience the natural pulse of extension, contraction and rest, where taking in, releasing, and becoming still is the norm, then something must account for the change from that natural pattern that shifts into something unnatural. For some of us, the loss of the natural pulse begins with an overwhelming traumatic event that happens in early childhood or sometime in our young lives. Until that event we are confident in the world and in ourselves—and then a parent dies, or a divorce shocks us and shakes the image we hold of our selves or our world. Perhaps all is well until a natural disaster shatters us, a crime shakes us, or a war experience devastates our sense of security on a core level. However, for many, the loss of the natural pulse occurs very early in our lives, often before we have learned language to be able to explain to anyone, including ourselves, what has happened. We simply live our lives always feeling like something is missing, or something is just not quite right.

It is not uncommon for a person to learn to adapt to painful early childhood events by living with limitations on the pulse and do fairly well with some extension, some contraction, and some rest happening. That person can find creative ways to excel, giving the impression of a healthy pulse. Others might perceive this person as a roll-model of health and success until an event in adult life shatters the illusion and the person collapses in physical or mental illness.

In the years that I have worked to release my own tensions, as well as to help hundreds of clients who have been caught in the tension of being trapped in extension or in contraction, I have come to realize the importance of finding the original cause of the tension. Often a client comes in with an illness or an emotional disturbance, such as depression or anxiety that is robbing them of peace and happiness. This distress may have been brought on by a life-shattering event, like a divorce, the loss of a job, the death of a loved one, or any one of a million, million human tragedies. Some clients want to make the illness or the emotional disturbance go away and not go any deeper, or they may want to work their way through the life-shattering event to solve it so they can pick up the pieces and move on. Though the illness or disturbance is important it is not the true cause of the problem; the adult shattering event is important, seldom is the cause. What is important is the original event that started the whole life-pattern, which, in turn lead to a lifetime of blocking access to the natural pulse.

What first caused the blockage to the natural pulse is important because it contains the feeling and meaning response to the event. And the feeling acts as a glue that holds together the meaning we attached to that original cause and the meaning, in turn, creates the behavior patterns that grow out of the meanings. I know that this is a mouth-full, but as you read the chapters, this idea will make more sense. Once the whole package of feeling, meanings, beliefs, and behaviors is felt, understood, and transformed, healing can happen. Once healing occurs, a return to the natural pulse can happen, even when those events took place in the deeply hidden past of infancy. With a return to the natural pulse, life-changing, healthy behaviors can take the place of behaviors that had previously blocked the natural pulse.

When a baby is born into a healthy environment where parents want the child and the child in its essence, is loved, seen, nurtured, embraced, and supported, the infant automatically experiences the pulse. The baby feels the love of the mother’s touch, it feels the comfort of available milk, and it feels the safety of rest. The tiny mouth extends to suckle and reaches out its hand to touch its mother’s skin, and draw the breast closer to itself. The infant’s body takes in and processes the milk, using what it needs, and releases what it does not need through its bladder and bowels. This whole process is a matter of joy for parents who are so happy that “everything works!” And the baby drops into a deep and restful sleep, only to wake a couple of hours later and repeat the pulse. Cells, organs, and systems flow with the pulse of opening, closing—and resting…and all is well. However, too many children are born without having this experience.

A baby girl might come into the world and experience a mother’s withdrawal and disappointment that her newborn is not a boy, even if the disappointment is very subtle and never overtly expressed. Though the infant has no words to put on the experience, the baby’s body-response to the mother’s withdrawal will be conflicted. One response is to connect with mother in extension, the other is contraction, to withdraw from mother in defense of pain caused by her absence. But either response, frightened contracted withdrawal or desperate extension, have the opposite counterparts within the child since the natural instinct of the baby’s body is to expand to embrace the mother, but also to contract and withdraw from the source of pain.

The shock of experiencing withdrawal of energy instead of loving embrace is an overwhelming blow to a cognitive system that has not yet experienced a separation between the self and the world. What the infant has recorded in its embodied experience is that something lethally wrong has occurred. Mother’s contraction is recorded as its own contraction, and the infant’s contraction, overpowering the impulse to extend, is experienced as pain because connective extension is resisted. And extension, overpowering the impulse to contract is experienced as pain because contraction is resisted. The infant does not yet cognitively understand that internal and external are separate, but the infant’s body is experiencing separation which now embodies the conflict and the pain between contraction and extension.

The infant might become caught in extension, reaching out in desperation for a loving mother who is not there. Extension might overpower the protective urge to contract, and again the conflict is experienced as pain, and becomes embodied as a longing for connection that can never be satisfied. The woman who is there might do her motherly duties in a way that is painful to the infant. Perhaps she is cut off from sending or receiving loving energy, critical of the suckling, upset with bowel movements, or distracted by conflict with others. The infant’s pain of the conflict between the pattern of reaching and pattern of resistance to reaching has set up a life pattern that is painful. An inner war has begun.

The child might never be able to recall this postnatal embodied experience, but the body has recorded the experience and the child could grow into a woman who is withdrawn from others, expecting rejection, fearing intimacy, and avoiding social interaction. She might find herself longing for connection, but withdrawing every time someone approaches her. This woman might get into a relationship but never really be available to her partner. Her body could be in constant tension, guarding against getting too close and never feeling safe enough to go into the magnificent surrender to suspension into the still point, within herself or within a relationship.

The child might grow into a woman who is constantly reaching out to find love, seeking to fill the void created by an absent mother. Her intensity of reaching for someone who is not there would likely not be comfortable or attractive to a possible partner, who has a normal pulse. However, she might be drawn to a person caught in contraction, hoping to finally convince the person that pulls away to stop pulling away. Her deeply buried hope is that if she can finally get a person who withdraws to not withdraw, she can vindicate herself from being unworthy of embrace, a belief that became embedded in her body in infancy because that was the meaning she placed on her mother’s withdrawal from her. In this kind of paring, the person who reaches is likely to be the one who pursues the relationship, and the one who contracts is the reluctant partner always looking for a way to withdraw, to distance, or end the relationship. However, if the withdrawing partner finally shifts and begins to reach, the pursuing partner will more than likely become afraid of potential pain of being close, and will herself, withdraw.

Someone who has the pattern of constantly reaching is much more likely to be attractive to someone else who has a pattern of intense reaching, as well. Both reach with profound intensity; both hope to find someone who is truly there for them, and both feel the almost painful ecstasy of discovering the other. The energetic charge can feel profoundly ecstatic filled with the “chemistry” that makes the union feel as if it were made in heaven.

However, part of the reaching pattern, is also a pattern that pulls back from reaching as a way to avoid the pain of finding that someone is not there, an expectation that is fulfilled when each pulls back in self protection at the first upset. The pull back occurs to prevent the self from finding the “unloving and unavailable mother” whom each does not want but both partners expect to be there; or perhaps to “not be there.” A relationship war now replicates the inner war of extension and contraction, of fear and unrequited longing, that each partner experiences every moment of every day.

The pattern created in infancy—whatever that pattern is—can be replicated not only in personal, intimate relationships, but in friendships, in jobs and professions, or in the person’s very relationship with life. The on-going inner struggle between wanting to connect and fearing connection can result in tension that impacts joints showing itself as arthritis as the muscles in body meant to assist in the natural pulse of extension and contraction struggle against each other. Tension can impact the heart, the seat of the experience of love, stuck in contraction but wanting to experience connection or constantly being heartbroken, stuck in extension while wanting to contract because of the pain.

It is possible that diseases such as cancer might occur much later in the life for that unwanted baby girl in the parts of the her body that identify her as female, where the organs themselves struggle against connection to themselves as feminine and contraction from what feels unacceptable about being feminine. Any number of physical, psychological, or psychosocial ailments can result from an event that brought pain before words could express the experience.

What I have described here, in the possible outcomes for an unwanted baby girl, is just one of a myriad of possible wounding experiences that an individual can impact a person in early childhood—some originating with parents, some with siblings, some with relatives, friends, neighbors, or caretakers. Some might be founded in environmental or political conditions. We have yet to see the effects of 9-11 or the post-9-11 political responses on little children whose internal constructs of the world and themselves in the world were in the formative stages during this time.

Perhaps you have discovered something of yourself in these first pages. You might now notice that the majority of your life experience has been stuck in contraction, or stuck in expansion…or perhaps “stuck” is not as accurate a description of your experience as feeling limited in the pulse. You might be struggling with low grade anxiety or depression. It is possible that you may not feel stuck, but you feel that something is missing. You may know, however, that you long for that place of peace, that surrender to the still point that connects you to the experience the oneness, a oneness that lets you know that you are safe, that you are loved, that you have the kind of connection that feels real. You want a sense of wholeness, a wholeness that knows that even if things are not right, that rightness is still there, but the sense eludes you.

Each chapter that follows contains real life stories of people with life threatening diseases who searched for a pathway to the still point, whether they were aware of that search, or not. Life threatening diseases include those illnesses that we all recognize such as cancer, multiple sclerosis, obesity, or heart disease. But they also include conditions that threaten to take the life out of life. These conditions include disturbances such as unresolved fear, anger, grief, jealousy, shame, guilt, depression or anxiety, or any behavioral response to those unresolved conditions such as alcohol, drugs, obsessions, or any pattern that causes a person to shut down or slow down the flow of life.

Some of the people, whose stories are told in these pages, have lived through the healing process to connect with the still point and recreate beautiful lives for themselves, and others gave up trying, choosing to live and probably will someday die with the disease. Some have died after finding the healing in the still point, while others died before they could find it. There are still others who came to see me, perhaps only one time. They might have found what they felt they needed, or were frightened by the prospect that they might find it. In most of these cases, I have no idea of the outcome of their search, though I have a piece of the story as far as they allowed me to read it.

The names have all been changed, and at times, where appropriate or possible, the gender has been changed. Any other identifying features have also been removed in order to protect those whom I have included here or anyone who might think that he or she has been included. Some of the people were my clients, and some were clients of other therapists; some were people who wrote to me and told me their stories, and other stories were given to me by friends or families who shared with me about people they loved. At times, the details of two or three people’s lives have been interwoven because the general themes of their lives have been so similar, or because the paths they took toward or away from healing were so very close to being the same path.

Within the pages and within the stories you have an opportunity to find the path of healing by noticing the roads that were taken and the ones that were not taken. As you read through the pages and live in the stories, allow yourself to discover your own path to the still point; it is there within you—and that is the unchanged truth.

If you would like to be informed as to when Sandy’s book on Healing comes out, you can e-mail her at Sselasmith@aol.com to receive information regarding publication and purchase the book. Her CD titled Healing, which uses voice and music to assist listeners to drop into that still point place of healing, is available, now. It can be ordered now by sending a note identifying that you want the Healing CD along with a check, payable to Infinite Connections, for $23.75, which includes tax, shipping and handling, to the following address.
Sandy Sela-Smith,
PO Box 4744
Clearwater, Florida, 33758-4744

The word Heuristic has been traditionally applied to research into new territory where the only thing that is known is the question and the method is random inquiry into the “dark” to find what works. The researcher uses a trial and error method often based on an “intuitive feel” of what might work and proceeds from there, step-by-step, like brailleing one’s way in the dark, until a clearer picture emerges. What is right is what works.

All science, whether natural or human, begins heuristically, and continues this way until there are enough answers to shed light on the patterns and characteristics related to the area of research. Only after enough light is brought in by way of the heuristic process, can theories be postulated, and results predicted and tested using the more traditional, control-oriented, objectively-based “scientific method.”

Heuristic Self-Search Inquiry (HSSI) is a qualitative method of research in which the researcher is the participant of his or her own internal inquiry into the often dark and hidden internal patterns that influence the personal experience of life. This method grew out of the Heuristic Research process as developed by Clark Moustakas (1990) in the latter part of the twentieth century when observational and objectively oriented behavioral psychology as science was being challenged by a number of subjective and experiential perspectives.

In attempting to implement Moustakas’s method, Dr. Sandy Sela-Smith (1998, 2001, 2002) identified the presence of internal resistance to internally focused inquiry, which impacted research outcomes and as a result she clarified the Moustakas Heuristic Research Method with Heuristic Self-Search Inquiry.

The central objective of HSSI is self-transformation, and the central foci of the process are the feelings the self-searcher experiences and the meanings attached to those feelings, which includes feelings related to resistance. Once feelings are discovered and resistance to deeply buried life-patterns is overcome, a pathway to change the patterns opens, which in turn leads to transformation of self and life-experience.

When applied therapeutically, the client’s self-search is guided by a trained therapist whose purpose is to assist the client-inquirer in becoming aware of feelings, noticing and overcoming resistance to feelings, and continuing the self-search process that can lead to a transformation that positively impacts the client’s life and self-experience. When applied as in this proposed research, the principal researcher takes the role of the therapist/guide and the HSSI researcher is the participant/client who is investigating his or her own internal territory, with the help of the principal therapist/guide researcher.
This process is also related to the work of Ernest Rossi (2002), an internationally renowned psychotherapist and neuroscientist whose work has culminated Psychobiology, Gene Expression, and Psychotherapy in which he discusses implicit processing heuristics that seems to access the same body knowledge as does HSSI, to facilitate healing. While Rossi works dynamically and profoundly with cell-level and genetic information on the implicit and unconscious level, Sela-Smith seeks to make the implicit explicit and the unconscious conscious. HSSI uses feeling as the entry point to the deeply embedded tacit, or implicit arenas of consciousness, wherein behavioral motivators, and life patterns exist that normally are unavailable to waking-state awareness.

Based on her own HSSI work, as well as a therapist/guide with clients over the last 10 years, she has found that when feelings are physically or emotionally painful, when they are frightening, or when they are anger-related, it is not uncommon to repress the feelings by attempting to cover them up, numb them, deny them, dissociate from them, or dismiss them as insignificant (Sela-Smith 2001). Investigation of internal experience is avoided, likely without even knowing avoidance is occurring. However, resisted and repressed feelings often erupt as emotional disturbance, which, in turn, has the potential to lead to physical illness.

Often, it seems that it takes a major crisis to shift the focus from the external world to focus on internal experience that has been resisted (Douglass & Moustakas, 1985). A crisis may well be a crisis because there are no ready-made answers in the external world, forcing a search for answers — and some of us, perhaps for the first time, venture inward.
A self-search inquiry can be stimulated by something that feels disharmonious inside, by something that has a feel of uneasiness, being out of sorts, disturbed, conflicted, or confused. It can begin with an event that impacts a person in a way that causes painful emotion, such as fear, shame, guilt, sadness, or grief. And certainly crisis related to a physical illness has the power to draw attention to internal experience and self-search.

In a crisis situation or in its aftermath, a person can attempt to cause the outer world to shift back to the way things were before the stressful experience, or shift to a new way that is not stressful, in order to return to a sense of well-being. The person could, also, choose to go inside the self to make changes to adjust to the outer shifts. For those who avoid experiencing painful feelings inside, it is not unusual to attempt to control the outside world, but if that becomes too difficult or impossible, avoidance of the internal might be abandoned and an internal search might begin.

On one level, the internal search could be initiated to alleviate the disharmony, to lift the stress, and to return life to normalcy, but on another level, if one is willing to listen, there can be a call for transformation that exists within every personal challenge. When the investigator finds the source of the dissonance and brings healing to it, it is not possible to return to being the person that he or she was prior to the investigation because the search has transformed the researcher (Moustakas, 1990, Sela-Smith, 2001, 2002).

Like heuristic research, Heuristic Self-Search Inquiry is an intuitive process, but it is also a skill that develops with use. Each person’s style is unique. It is not possible to specify an explicit algorithm for the process (Douglass & Moustakas, 1985) that an individual can follow to guarantee successful completion of the process.

There seems to be one simple requirement, which is a willingness to surrender to experiencing difficult feelings, something that many humans seem to be so very good at resisting. There are steps in the process of working internally, but the movement through these “steps” is not necessarily sequential; however, most aspects will likely be present in any given process.

Completing the “steps” cannot be the focus of the inquiry, if they are the focus, surrender has not happened and a Heuristic Self-Search Inquiry is unlikely to take place.

If a person surrenders to whatever feelings are felt, by not trying to dismiss them, dissociate from them, or deny them, it is possible to become aware of the self that experiences the feelings, to discover the personal belief systems and behavior responses that create the life that the self experiences.

In the process, new awareness can be brought to the experience allowing a transformation of the ineffective personal beliefs and behaviors into effective ones, and transforming the self who experiences life. The blocked and suffering self can evolve into a flowing and healed self. The general process, which a self-search researcher initiates regarding a feeling or an issue, involves what I identify as the six Es: Experience, Express, Explore, Explicate, Extricate, and Experience Anew.

The steps one must take to accomplish a Heuristic Self-Search Inquiry that moves through these six processes is first, to be willing to acknowledge that feelings exist and that the feelings are worthy of an inquiry. Though this seems like a simple beginning, it is not as easy as it sounds. Sela-Smith (1998, 2001, 2002, 2003, in press) contends that many of us have systematically disconnected from conscious awareness of feelings based on what was acceptable in the family of origin or in social or intellectual systems in which we were raised and may still continue to find ourselves. We might discipline ourselves not to feel certain feelings, without realizing that the underlying need to cut off experiencing feelings is coming from feelings.

If we have been cut off from experiencing our feelings, for whatever reason, we may need to be reintroduced to this experience by becoming aware of our feelings of resistance. It is also possible to experience multiple as well as contrary feelings regarding the same experience, which can create mental and emotional confusion. If this is the case, each of the feelings must be acknowledged and experienced.

Second, once feelings are acknowledged, it is useful to express them, and dialogue with them while remaining in the experience of the feelings. In the beginning, the inquiries may be more verbal, and the questions will become more specific, directed by thinking processes. But in time, the inquiry takes on a feeling-tone of a search through the darkness to where one feeling leads an image and then to another and another until the precipitating image and its feelings and meanings are finally found and addressed.

The objective of the questioning is to discover what personal beliefs are attached to the feeling and to discover how to integrate feeling conflicts, or make shifts or changes in those internal belief systems. It might be useful to visualize this as a process of finding parts of self “stuck” in the past experiencing a painful feeling and trapped by the meanings and beliefs attached to that feeling. This exploration process might begin by asking, What I am experiencing in my body this very moment as I visualize whatever I am dealing with?

Overview
This literature review reveals two perspectives of resistance in psychotherapy. The first concerns the patient’s internal process of avoiding painful information and the second pertains to an attitude in the patient/therapist relationship. When Freud (1900) focused attention on the therapeutic relationship instead of the internal process of resistance, I propose that he collapsed the two resistances into one by equating the patient’s internal process to the external process of resistance as expressed in the therapeutic relationship. This has laid the foundation for the formation of codependent therapeutic relationships that fail to address internal resistance.

A number of therapeutic methods have evolved from Freudian psychoanalysis or had connections to it, each attempting to correct what theorists saw as misconceptions of classical psychoanalytic theory. I contend, however, that those who opposed Freud such as Adler and Jung, as well as the new theorists such as the Neo-Freudians, the object relations therapists, the self psychologists, and others have inadvertently followed in Freud’s (1900, 1913, 1933) footsteps. Like he, they developed theories that interpret what the patient experiences and contain the potential for codependency. I offer a nontraditional perspective that refocuses attention on the internal process and redefines the responsibilities of participants related to problem solving and dealing with resistance in psychotherapy.

Traditional Views of Resistance
Weaving in and out of the psychological literature over the last century are two explanations of the word resistance as applied to psychotherapy. The first identifies resistance as the internal process of preventing painful information that has been pushed out of conscious awareness from coming back into awareness (Brewer & Freud, 1895; Freud, 1900, 1905, 1915a, b, c, 1923, 1933; Horney, 1939; Janet, 1907, 1925; Jones, 1911; Stark, 1994). Priests, mesmerists, and hypnotists who were the practitioners of early dynamic psychiatry traditions from which psychoanalysis evolved, presented evidence of their patients’ resistance to knowledge of painful information in the waking-state that was only available in altered states of consciousness (Ellenberger, 1970, Hilgard, 1987). Though the intention of this internal resistance is self-protection, the long-term result is a mental disturbance that may present itself as hysterical illness, mental distress, and / or abnormal behavior (Brewer & Freud, 1895; Janet, 1907, 1929).

A second explanation of resistance was written in the Psychological Bulletin II, (1905) which identified resistance as being simply “something hindering inquiry” (p. 256). Around this same time, Freud (1895, 1900) made reference to the struggle between analyst and patient that hindered psychoanalysis. I propose that Freud (1900, 1913, 1923, 1933) subtly collapsed the two definitions into one when he concluded that the internal resistance of painful information is the cause of the patient’s resistance to the therapist. In doing so, the patient’s heuristic investigation of his or her internal process is abandoned while the therapist’s interpretation of the patient behavior based on theory determines what is occurring within the patient. I hold the opinion that for nearly a century, the generally accepted meaning of the word “resistance,” as applied to psychotherapy has come from this collapsed definition originating in Freudian Psychoanalysis. Therapeutic practices that appear to focus on the patient’s internal experience still define that internal resistance based on the theoretic perspective, leaving the therapist in charge of defining the problem and providing the solution. I submit that this practice creates the elements necessary for the development of a codependent therapeutic relationship.

Codependent Relationship Literature
Codependent literature came to the forefront in the1970s and 1980s popular press in the form of self-help literature based on clinical experience rather than from rigorous research (Messner, 1996, Subby, 1986; Subby & Friel, 1988). Professionals who treated chemical dependency needed to find ways to work with the spouses and children-of- alcoholics. These specialists found that family members exhibited symptoms similar to alcoholics. The examination of this concern became the foundation of the codependency literature (Beattie, 1986; Betz, 1987; Black, 1981; Bradshaw, 1990, Miller, 1981, 1983; Whitefield, 1986).
The relationship styles exhibited by persons in codependency with alcoholics were recognized in many other relationships between persons facing addiction issues. Anecdotal reports rather than research documentation indicated that there were common characteristics of relationships in which addiction is a factor. According to Loughead, Spurlock, and Ting, (1998) popular literature of the 1970s and 1980s identified a number of these features. They suggest that codependents bind their self-esteem to the ability to control other people and they suffer from distorted understanding of will power. Codependents invest inordinate amounts of energy in efforts to improve other people in their search for a semblance of self-worth. They also tend to assume responsibility for meeting others’ needs. Codependent persons feel anxiety and boundary distortions around intimacy and separation and become enmeshed in relationships with personality disordered, chemically dependent, other codependent and/or impulse disordered individuals. Cermak (1991) pointed out that codependent persons are likely to have “three or more of the following: constriction of emotions, depression, hyper-vigilance, compulsions, anxiety, substance abuse, excessive denial, recurrent physical or sexual abuse, stress-related medical illness, and/or a primary relationship with an active substance abuser for at least 2 years” (pp. 64-76).

Because these findings were not based on empirical research, these DSM-like descriptives (Cermak, 1991; Irwin, 1995; Loughead, et al., 1998) and the assumptions made by writers such as Beattie (1986); Miller, (1981, 1983); Norwood (1986); and Whitfield (1987) were rejected in academic literature as unfounded. However, by the 1990s, empirical research began to support what earlier anecdotal reports had purported (Clark & Stoffel, 1992; Donat, Walters, & Hume (1991); Loughead, Spurlock & Ting, 1998; Springerk, Britt, & Schlenker, 1998; Wells, Glickauf-Hughes & Jones, 1999). In these studies, the features of codependency as identified by the popular literature were positively correlated with shame-proneness, low self-esteem, and parentification (parent/child relationship identified as one in which the child feels responsible for the parent and expresses a need to take care of parental needs at the cost of their own needs.) High codependency scores were also significantly correlated to high external locus of control, high anxious/ambivalent attachment and avoidant attachment.

Codependent Relationships
Earlier popular literature indicated that codependent systems create a unique way of forming relationships that correlates with research of the 1990’s (Clark and Stoffel, 1992; Donat, Walters, & Hume (1991); Loughead, Spurlock & Ting, 1998; Springerk Britt, & Schlenker, 1998; Wells, Glickauf-Hughes & Jones, 1999). The Karpman (1968) codependent “drama triangle” depicts a relationship between two or more participants in codependency. Each person takes one of three positions: the victim, the rescuer, or the persecutor. Each position fulfills a role-relationship with the other roles in problem-oriented interactions. The “rescuer” role takes the responsibility of supplying the solution for the one that is experiencing the problem. The one who suffers from the effects of the problem takes the “victim” role. The persecutor in abusive relationships may be dominant most of the time, using ongoing passive-aggressive behaviors or outright aggression. However, when the victim or rescuer becomes disturbed by the control of the other, an inherent characteristic of codependency, either may shift positions and become a persecutor.
Rescuer Victim
A B Figure 1: A= The Karpman drama triangle
B= The Quigley shadow triangle
Problem Solver Victim
Victim Persecutor

Quigley (1989) pointed out that the unseen side of the rescuer is a shadow victim who believes he or she must rescue someone in order to feel valued. He suggests that hidden in the persecutor is also a shadow victim whose vulnerability is defended by aggressive acts; in the victim is a shadow aspect of self that is capable of solving the problem. All roles have a victim aspect that struggles to use the relationship for relief.

According to Weinhold and Weinhold (1989) the role participants take in the “drama triangle” may shift a multitude of times during a single incident. Whenever one party becomes dissatisfied with the dynamics of the codependent relationship, he or she shifts from one position and takes on one of the other two roles in an attempt to force the non-compliant party back into compliance. Relationship is based on the tension between the roles rather than on connection and cooperation to find solutions. Problems tend not to get solved because the codependent relationship needs problems to exist. The relationship is characterized by struggle that is exhibited in ongoing attempts to control the other, as well as, resist the attempts of the other to control.
Codependence in the Therapeutic Relationship

In psychotherapy, the therapeutic relationship exists because a patient is experiencing a problem. When there is an assumption that the therapeutic perspective together with the therapist’s intervention holds the solution to the patient’s problem, I contend that the establishment of a codependent relationship begins. If control is an aspect of the relationship, resistance becomes the new problem and, now, the therapist may suffer because he or she cannot be a successful rescuer of the patient if the patient resists. As the two shift positions, the patient can become the rescuer of the therapist by becoming compliant and accepting the therapeutic interpretation. Perhaps the patient may become the persecutor of the therapist by refusing to cooperate. The focus has shifted from the patient’s presenting problem (caused by whatever is being internally resisted) to the therapist’s problem (the need to overcome the patient’s iatrogenic resistance in the relationship.) I contend that whenever the therapist is in the rescuer position, there is hidden victim in the therapist’s shadow that is being projected onto the patient. Both therapist and patient struggle in an attempt to control the behavior of the other. Control replaces authentic relationship and resistance to control becomes the focus. This becomes a potential petri-dish situation for creating the characteristics identified in codependency (Cermak, 1991, Loughead, et al., 1998).
Understanding of codependent relationships appeared in psychotherapeutic literature regarding neurosis before the popular version became known in the 1970s and 1980’s, though in these early references theorists assumed that it was the patient who was neurotic. Ellenberger (1970) pointed out that:

Jung defines neurosis as a “sick system of social relationships,” a definition that is well in accord with the concepts of Janet as well as Adler. Because of this projection the neurotic unconsciously manipulates the persons around him (spouse, parents, children, and friends) and plays them against each other so that he is soon enmeshed in a web of intrigues of which both he and the other are victims. (p. 719)

I propose that any rescuing therapist is neurotic and codependent. The rescuing role might be played out as one of Jung’s (1934b, 1936, 1939) archetypes within the masculine, feminine, or androgynous images. Examples of the masculine roles that either male or female therapists might assume include the benevolent ruler or dictatorial tyrant, the authoritarian father figure, wise old man, coach, or guide. Examples of feminine roles that might be taken include the good mother, the caretaker of the innocent, the protector of the lost, the weak and the broken, or the wise old woman.

The role counterpart of the rescuing therapist in codependency is the victim patient who may be an obedient or unruly subject, a cooperative or difficult student, or a willing or resistive apprentice in relationship with the one in authority. The patient in relationship with the rescuing mother figure is one who may be helpless, broken, weak, or lost. The patient in relationship with a guiding or coaching therapist may be seen as one who is in training to break free (even from the therapeutic relationship) to become whole.
I speculate that therapists who identify with the codependent role of the masculine archetype do not work well with helpless, broken, weak , or lost patients where resistance is hidden. Therapists who identify with the feminine archetypal images may not work well with the unruly, difficult or resistive patients with visible resistance. This speculation is based on the consideration that therapists who assume therapeutic roles are themselves playing out codependent relationships reflective of their resistance to becoming aware of what has been pushed away just as their patients do. A therapist who feels inferior may seek to be superior in a therapeutic relationship; perhaps, a therapist who avoids the painful information held in his or her own unconscious may select a therapy method that focuses on the present and future and dismisses the value of delving into the past.

I submit that many of the current psychotherapies can be shown to have the potential to foster codependent relationships in which the roles taken on by both the therapist and the patient play out prescribed ways of relating. The focus of codependent psychotherapeutic relationships is on the external resistance as in the case of authoritative-resistive relationships or external chaos of the patient’s life as in nurturing- distressed relationships. Both create a distraction to internal resistance.
Jung (1965) suggested that the complex, which is the totality of the components that make up a disturbance experienced by a patient, contains important clues that both hide and reveal the patient’s secret (p. 117). If a theorist creates a psychotherapeutic process that contains codependency, a codependent therapeutic complex might both hide and reveal the therapeutic secret. A patient’s resistance to the therapist interpretation may be, as many theorists suggest, resistance to awareness to what has been hidden; however, it might be a legitimate struggle against an inappropriate interpretation projected onto the patient by a neurotic therapist.

The Codependent Authoritarian Paternalistic Relationship: The Role of the Despot or Benevolent Director Over the Compliant or Rebellious Subject
Paternalism, derived from paternal or fatherly, is a word that describes a relationship in which the one in authority takes care and control of the needs of those who are subject by providing for their needs without giving the subjects responsibility (American Heritage Dictionary, 1983). The superiority of the therapist is acknowledged by texts on professional ethics, by APA ethical standards, (APA, 1982), and by many state laws (e.g. F.S.S. 490 and 491, 1999) that regulate the relationship within, outside, and beyond the therapeutic setting. These standards assume the vulnerability and dependency of the patient years after the relationship has ended and in some cases in perpetuity. I contend that Freud’s psychoanalysis and Adler’s individual psychology are examples of authoritarian paternalism.

Freud and psychoanalysis: The therapist as ruler over the subject with patient’s
resistance identified as interference with psychoanalysis.
A review of classical Freudian psychoanalytic literature from 1895 to 1940, in my opinion, reveals that psychoanalysis has codependent characteristics at its foundation. Psychoanalytic theory identifies what causes patients’ problems and what has to be done for those problems to be solved. Though Freud’s conception regarding original cause of the patient’s problem shifted from actual trauma, as he proposed in 1895, to unrequited wishes and drives as presented in 1900, Freud’s explication of the solution remained the same, an explication, I contend, that has embedded in it, codependency.

Freud, (1985, 1900) like many of his counterparts at the end of the 19th century, searched for causes and cures of hysterical illness, whereby patients experienced blindness, amnesia, paralysis, and other diseases without any known physical cause (Freud, 1895, 1900; Janet, 1907, 1929). Freud (1985) used a mechanistic-organistic positivism that reduced psychological processes to physiological laws and physiological processes to physical and chemical laws. He developed a model, as reflected in a document called the Project for a Scientific Psychology (Ellenberger, 1970), that he never published, but it contained the foundation for what became his psychoanalytic theory. In this document he explained a complicated system of neurological functions of excitation and inhibition later to be identified as resistance. When he worked with people in those beginning years, Freud interpreted these patients behavior from this physiological perspective.

In Studies in Hysteria, Breuer and Freud (1895) proposed a theory that painful memories that have become dissociated convert into bodily symptoms that are relieved when the memories are brought into consciousness. The explanation for the loss of awareness from Breuer’s (1895) perspective is that the painful events in childhood cause the child to enter a hypnoid state, a state called somnambulism by hypnotists a century earlier, where memories held in that state are not available to ordinary consciousness. Breuer believed that traumatic memories could be retrieved only when that state is re-entered. Freud (1896) later rejected the hypnoid state theory and proposed that memories exist on a chain from the present to the past. He believed that the therapist must trace the chain of events from current hysteria to some incident in puberty when less traumatic sexual incidents occur but are connected to the original painful memories unavailable to normal waking awareness. In therapy, as the doctor probes into the patient’s past, the safety of the psychotherapeutic relationship allows the patient to reconnect with memories of the buried events; however, it is also possible for the patient to resist the probes, fight the doctor, and resist the memory. (Freud, 1913, 1933)
Early in his work, Freud (1895, 1896) concluded that childhood sexual trauma causes repression, resistance, and hysterical illness. Two years later he shifted to a view that unresolved sexual drives in early stages of development rather than actual traumas cause disturbance, pain, repression, and resistance. Instead of the patient resisting the probing for an actual memory, Freud (1900, 1915c) determined that the patient resists becoming aware of hidden sexual fantasies toward the opposite sex parent, a feeling the patient may later project on the therapist.

With the embrace of this new perspective, Freud (1900) withdrew therapeutic attention from seeking deeply buried childhood trauma and rejected using hypnosis as an access tool to the patient’s unconscious. Instead, he began to focus on patient’s dreams and free association. He interpreted the meaning based on psychoanalytic theory rather than permitting the patient to discover his or her own meaning. With this shift, Freud proposed that dreams, uncensored slips of the tongue, and uncensored talk available in free association during psychoanalysis, provide access to what is repressed and resisted in the unconscious.

Freud (1933) concluded that: “the defense mechanisms directed against former dangers recur in the treatment as resistances against memory. It follows from this that the ego treats recovery itself as a new danger” (p. 238). This defense that is ongoing in every aspect of therapy is what the therapist must continually point out to the patient as the therapist interprets the meaning of the dreams, slips of the tongue, and talk (Freud, 1913, 1920, 1923, 1925).

Freud (1924) reviewing what he had proposed earlier in his work, defined resistance as an ongoing part of every aspect of analysis whereby the patient attempts to block therapy as he “clings to his disease and fights the psychoanalyst against his own recovery” (p. 254). That fight can show up as resistance to the therapists probing, to interpretation, and to the analyst (Freud, 1925) or as refusal to keep what occurs in therapy between the analyst and patient (1913). He argued that patients who discuss their analysis outside the confines of the therapeutic relationship want to remain in control of the process instead of working it through with the therapist. The patient may enter a power struggle with the therapist by refusing to participate in free association and by resisting the procedures of analysis to recall, to insight, and to change (Eagle & Wolitzky, 1992). There may be attempts to cover thoughts with filling in silence out of fear of the analyst’s criticism, which is subtle resistance in the form of compliance. Freud also indicated that patients may attempt to take control of the therapy process by planning everything they say in sessions (1913) or that they attempt to take control by falling in love with the therapist (1912). These acts of resistance become the focus of analysis (Freud, 1925).
Much like the conflict inherent in codependency, psychoanalytic theory sees conflict as the major descriptor of many relationships (Corsini & Wedding, 1995). The three parts of self (id, ego, and superego) struggle with each other (1923), not unlike an internalized victim, rescuer, and persecutor. The self and civilization are in continuous strife (1930), and of course, the patient and the analyst are in contention for control. In 1914, Freud wrote Wolf Man, not published until 1918, in which he used an analogy of an enemy army making its way across a stretch of country to describe the therapeutic struggle (p. 403). Freud (1925) insists that resistance is a part of every step in treatment; he states that “every single association, every act of the person under treatment must reckon with the resistance and represents a compromise between the forces that are striving towards recovery and the opposing ones” (p.103). The psychoanalytic relationship experiences tension and resistance just as exhibited in codependent relationships.

The student who trains to be an analyst must go through psychoanalysis as a patient not only to learn how to identify and interpret resistance, but also, to learn how to use psychoanalytic methodology to duplicate the analytical relationship that Freud had with his patients. In the therapeutic relationship the therapist is in the dominant position and the patient is submissive. The patient is not only in a vulnerable position physically, but is also required to be emotionally vulnerable to someone who is not sharing that vulnerability. During the analysis, the patient relaxes on a couch and tells whatever comes to mind no matter how futile, absurd, embarrassing, or even offensive it may seem (Freud 1925). While saying anything that comes to mind, the patient feels moments of inhibition and other inner difficulties that interrupt the flow of the process. Freud (1925) termed this interruption resistance. Wolitzki (1995) pointed out that as a patient freely associates, the analyst offers interpretations of the fixations that are exhibited in the talking. The patient will eventually begin resisting what the therapist interprets as forcing awareness into mental content that the patient has warded-off in an attempt to prevent behavior and attitudinal changes.

Wolitzki (1995) points out that anxiety and/or depression, which may arise from accessing the repressed knowledge or conflicted wish, often results in humiliation, shame, guilt, or fear. This can create a sense in the patient of feeling victimized by the process, which in turn causes more resistance to therapeutic interpretation. The patient’s resistance eventually is projected onto the analyst in transference and this becomes the focus of the therapy. From a codependent perspective this transference and resistance can be interpreted as the “victim” becoming angry at the control of the therapist and shifting to the “persecutor” or unruly subject position. The patient then uses passive aggressive behaviors to force the therapist, seen as despot, to stop what the patient experiences as persecution from the therapist.

Freud (1937) identified the underlying sources of clinical manifestations of resistance as including the constitutional strength of the instinctual drives, rigid defenses, and powerful, repetitive attempts of the patient to seek familiar forms of gratification. (I interpret these to be the defenses of the patient who feels control and moves into the persecutor role to relieve what is perceived as persecution coming from the therapist.) Resistance, Freud (1937) concluded, is a natural tendency to defend against painful memory and to avoid becoming aware. He contended that the patient’s free association coupled with the therapist’s interpretation provides new information as a counter to resistance. With this new information there is an expansion of awareness that calls for new behaviors and creates the cure.

Freud (1918) acknowledged that the therapist’s self-esteem is enhanced when favorable conclusions to therapy are achieved. He proposed that therapists who succeed in difficult, long-term treatments are the ones who renounce short-term therapeutic ambition and are to be commended since lengthy work produces results “attained by the therapist” (p. 402). I interpret these statements as reflecting the belief that it is the therapist who does the work and the patient who resists what the therapist is doing. This fits the sentiments associated with the rescuer in codependent relationships, attempting to rescue the uncooperative victim. The paternalistic relationship exists, perhaps at the expense of accessing hidden, painful information that first created the disturbance. I submit that the psychotherapeutic method, as well as, the therapeutic relationship may be an expression of the therapist’s unaddressed resistance that is projected into both the method and the relationship.

Adler and individual psychology: The therapist as authority figure and patient as the student with resistance as an iatrogenic artifact.
In the last decade of the 1800s, Adler began treating private patients who were suffering from neither organic neurological problems nor difficulties that required hospital psychiatry as did Freud (Ellenberger, 1970). Adler’s patients were people experiencing failures, frustrations, and unfulfilled fantasies. Instead of “Freudian-Couch-Psychoanalysis” that holds embedded messages of dominance and submission, Adler sat across from and faced his patients in chairs similar in height, shape, and size. He conducted talk therapy regarding present concerns rather than depth psychology dealing with a search for unconscious, repressed information and resistance to such exploration (Ellenberger, 1970; Lake, 1987; Lande, 1976; Mosak, 1995). He did not encourage transference or dependence of patients on the therapist. From external appearances, the process seems to operate without dominance or submission, a practice much different from psychoanalysis.

Both Freud (1900) and Adler (1926) determined that neuroses are formed as a result of the interaction between the individual and society; however, their perspectives were in opposition. Freud (1915) focused on the individual and internal dynamics. He stressed the unconscious conflict regarding opposing psychosexual needs, repression of drives that are not socially acceptable, and the resistance to reconnecting with traumatic memories from the past associated with that repression. Adler (1929, 1935), on the other hand, focused on society and on the social factors that cause the individual to feel inferior and to strive for superiority. His focus was on the present and how the patient attempts to overcome a sense of inferiority in the external world.

While Freud (1900,1925) gave resistance a central position in his theory and practice, Adler (1935) dismissed resistance as an iatrogenic artifact of psychotherapy. Adler (1917) did not accept the psychoanalytic concept of inner conflict between separated aspects of self, repression, and resistance as the norms that must be overcome to attain mental health. Instead he believed in the unity of the individual that causes all parts to cooperate towards a common goal, just as individuals cooperate toward the common goal of society. When the individual is seen as internally undivided, there can be no internal resistance of one part of self to awareness held by another part. The only resistance that may occur would take place if the patient attempts to fight for superiority in a relationship with therapist. Therefore, the therapist eliminates resistance by a refusal to participate in the struggle. By accepting Freud’s “collapsed” interpretation of resistance and then dismissing it as an artifact, I propose that Adler made the same decision as Freud, which was to focus on the external relationship, the former involving the patients’ interaction with the “world” and the latter, the patient’s interaction with the therapist. Both disconnected from the patients’ internal process of resistance. In his comparison of the “whole” individual as counterpart to the whole society and then acknowledging conflict within society but not within the individual, I believe Adler may have exposed his own resistance to addressing internal conflict.

While resistance was a central concern of psychoanalysis, inferiority was a major concern of individual psychology. Adler (1917) theorized that an individual who believes him or herself to be inferior creates a goal of self-assertion to become superior which follows that others must be made inferior. This sets the individual’s goal above the whole; a condition that Adler (1917) contends is naturally opposed to the greater social good and in opposition to the concept of the absolute logic of society. According to Adler (1917), conflict between this personal goal of superiority and societal goal of advancement of the whole is the cause of neuroses. Neuroses can show up as self-focus, as striving for superiority, or fearing that someone will be better.

The neurotic creates a false image of superiority and attempts to make it real by living what Adler identifies as a fictitious life; a fantasy made to allow the patient to feel superior in a social system that has causes him to feel inferior. This fantasy is the person’s attempt to create substantiation, or proof of his superiority while disproving inferiority, results in experienced everything in opposites: high or low, win or lose, best or worst. He easily loses the feeling of superiority within moments after a high or a win, and returns to a fear of being inferior. Instead of experiencing authentic life, the patient lives in fear avoiding awareness of inferiority and avoiding success which contains the seeds of inferiority, comparable to Freud’s concept of resistance to repressed information.
The irony is that while the individual pushes to substantiate the fiction of superiority, he also creates behaviors to prevent the fiction from meeting reality. The push to attain a goal of superiority results in ambition, arrogance, jealousy, and hatred, but the opposite may also occur when the neurotic person becomes shy, anxious, weak, or withdrawn, creating what Mosak (1995) identified as a “tyranny of the victim”. Adler (1917) suggests that anyone seeking to be superior will experience failure even in success. This sets up self-sabotage to prevent the self from having to face what he calls “substantiated fiction.” Sabotage may take the form of releasing the goal just as it is about to be attained, becoming sick while striving for success, having accidents at critical moments, or perhaps, by experiencing a debilitating neurosis that can be blamed for the failure instead of having to discover the falsity of the goal.
In the practice of Adlerian individual psychology, the therapist has the job of determining if the actual life goal and life style of the patient is contrary to the social goal. If the patients’ life goal and life style are not socially acceptable, psychological disorder will result, while the law of social interest leads to fulfillment of what he considered the 3 main tasks of life: occupation, love and family, and community. The therapist points out to the patient how the fictitious life goal and life style are in opposition to “the reality of life and the law of social interest” (Ellenberger, 1970 p. 620).

I propose that Adler (1917, 1925) set up a codependent system by determining what the patient is experiencing. The theory creates a superior position for the therapist who interprets the patient’s behavior and experience based on that theory, which is the rescuer role in codependency. In spite of the outward appearances of equality between therapist and patient, and the contention that the patient’s choice is paramount, I propose individual psychology is another expression of a relationship of masculine dominance. While Freud seems, in my opinion, to fulfill the dictator role, I submit that Adler fits the image of the superior masculine authority figure role and the patient is the inferior student. Ellenberger’s (1970) comment that “Adler equated resistance with a form of masculine protest, which had to be immediately pointed out to the patient as undesirable” (p.621). This indicates an assumption of therapist domination over the patient. In order for the cure to take place, the patient must submit to the theory and the therapist’s interpretation of the patient’s experience without resistance.

In his theory, Adler (1917) attaches significance to family dynamics related to birth order and the problem of inferiority. He described the position of the second child in a large family as being always under pressure and trying hard to compete with the older sibling (Bottome, 1939). It would not be difficult to see how a theorist, a second born son who felt inferior to his elder brother his entire life (Ellenberger, 1970 p. 577), would propose a theory that emphasized the problem of inferiority while elevating the theorist to a superior position, even while attempting to appear to create equality. His experience with feeling inferior may have allowed him to understand inferiority (Adler, 1917). However, his particular struggle might not be what all patients encounter. It may be that Adler’s painful experience of being a second child was repressed and pushed away only to have it projected into a theory of inferiority and projected onto patient behavior as a struggle for superiority. If the patient gets better, the therapist hopes to substantiate his superiority, and free himself from the unaddressed inferiority from his childhood. Embedded in the therapeutic process is a hidden agenda, the substantiation of the therapist. The therapeutic relationship, as well as the theory, both hide and reveal what is resisted and are expressions of resisted experience in the therapist. Whatever the patient had actually experienced, repressed, and is resisting, represented in the problem that brought him or her to therapy may remain unattended, especially if it is not related to inferiority issues, when therapy is focused on fitting the patient into the theory.

Though Freud and Adler were fundamentally different in their therapeutic models, it was Adler’s individual psychology that most influenced psychoanalytic theory as it evolved into object-relations psychotherapy. These Neo Freudian theorists incorporated an “almost imperceptible assimilation of individual psychological concepts” into their theories, (Ellenberger, 1970, p. 637) including Adler’s interpretation of resistance and the role of the therapist.

Codependent Nurturing Maternalism: The Role of the Care Giving Protector
With the next generation of therapists, the rising feminine consciousness, and the increase in the number of women becoming practitioners, I propose that the role of therapist expanded beyond the predominantly paternalistic authoritarianism as characterized by Freud and Adler to what I call nurturing maternalism. These women include Ainsworth (1962, 1967, 1972, 1973, 1982), A. Freud (1937, 1972), Gilligan (1988, 1993, 1997), Horney (1937, 1939), Klein (1935, 1946), and many others. (Though the English language has the word paternalism that describes a masculine role of domination, there is no equivalent word suggesting a relationship where the one who nurtures takes care by controlling the one nurtured. In order to create equivocation in the masculine and feminine roles in what I propose to be the codependent rescuing therapeutic relationship, I have will use the word maternalistic to identify this kind of care giving.) Maternalistic psychotherapies include therapies such as ego psychology, object relations psychology, self psychology, existentialism, and humanistic psychology. I contend that though the characteristics of the role changed, the potential for codependency did not. Instead of focusing on the theory to instruct the patient to fit into a prescribed mold of psychological health, the new therapies focus on the patient’s feelings to encourage him or her to accept a healthy mold. In both cases, health, as well as the problems that block health, are still identified by the therapist. The therapeutic rescuer in the role of the authoritarian father simply expanded to include the rescuer in a feminine form as maternalistic care-giving mother, both claiming to know what is best for the disturbed and dependent patient-child.

Ego Psychology: The wise old woman and the child in need of direction with patient’s resistance identified as defense of the ego.
Freud had both supporters and detractors as his theories unfolded. Some, such as Adler and Jung parted ways to develop their own theories while others remained committed to his theories and were identified as classical psychoanalysts. Still others began to challenge a few of the premises without completely rejecting Freud’s (1900) basic theory, and finally some changed enough of the foundational precepts of psychoanalysis and incorporated other perspectives that they became new psychotherapies. Perhaps, it was evolution within Freud’s own thought that led to what later became known as neo-Freudian psychoanalysis, which included ego-psychology and object-relations psychotherapy.

Gregory (1987) identified Freud’s youngest daughter, Anna, as the leading proponent of ego-psychology that concentrates on the ego instead of the id. She concluded that ego-weakness, rather than wishes and drives of the id, was the result of unsuccessful defense against instinct and inability to adapt to social realities. Hilgard (1987) suggested that Freud’s (1900) theory gave a pessimistic view of human nature by preoccupation with anxiety and guilt, while the new theorists saw human nature in a more positive light preoccupied with a need to defend against outside threat. I suggest this indicates the shift from a paternalistic therapeutic perspective to a maternalistic one. Hartmann’s Ego Psychology and the Problem of Adaptation (1939) introduced the concept of a “conflict-free ego” sphere, in which problems could be solved in an open and adaptive manner without regard to unconscious residues from infantile experiences (p. 373). It might be valuable to ask what unconscious residues may be hidden.
Those identified as ego psychologists (Cooper, 1987, 1989, 1992; A. Freud, 1937; Hartmann, Kris, & Loewenstein, 1946; Schafer, 1969; Sullivan, 1953) concluded that defense and coping mechanisms due to conflicted wishes are responsible for behavior and mental life disturbance rather than Freud’s (1915c) explanation of drive repression. These conclusions were seen as alternative formulations of theory rather than complementary structures. The analysis of the content of the unconscious and resistance to making the content conscious was replaced by analysis of defense mechanisms “as to whether they were adequate to the patient’s age, and to the external and internal conflicts he had to withstand” (Ellenberger, 1970, p. 860).

Neo-Freudian therapists point out the resistance just as their predecessor did, but with the purpose of making the patient aware of dysfunctional ego defenses instead of repressed drives. Neo-Freudians see transference as just another form of resistance, something to be pointed out, but neither focused upon nor searched out to discover its origins. The emotional dimension and meaning of resisted material to the patient’s psyche is downgraded. In the evolved version of psychoanalysis, rational problem solving takes the place of looking into conflicts and pain in the unconscious. The inner process of resistance that was first acknowledged by Freud (1895) and then by-passed with the collapse of the two definitions into one, became even more removed in Neo-Freudian psychoanalysis. Therapeutic resistance to the internal resistance of the patient, and perhaps the therapist, appears to be a parallel process in this new psychotherapy, somehow matching what may still be unaddressed within the patient.
Object Relations: The therapist as rescuer and patient as the broken child with resistance interpreted as the patient’s avoidance of painful relationship.

Object-relations oriented analysts contributed to major rethinking regarding psychoanalysis. Believing that Freud’s theory was based on too narrow a population that could not account for problems encountered by those patients with whom they worked, relational psychologists determined that the historical and present environment had to be considered in the cause of the disorder and the treatment. Instead of searching deeply into the individual to observe resistances, the focus turned to interaction between individuals and resistance to that interaction (Abraham 1924; Ainsworth, 1962, 1967, 1972, 1973, 1982; Bowlby, 1969, 1973, 1980, 1988; Erikson, 1963, 1982; Fairbairn 1952; Fromm, 1941; Greenberg & Mitchell, 1983; Horney, 1937, 1939; Klein, 1935, 1946; Winnicott, 1965).

From the object-relations perspective behavioral and psychological patterns are created from the interaction of three sources. The first is the complex of mental representation of objects; the second is comprised by the relationship that one’s self has to the world of inner objects, and the third is the condition that requires repetitive reenactment of this inner world in the context of the outer world. Object-relations therapists do not focus on repressed drives and wishes of the patient, with the therapist poised to point out the repressions and the resistances to becoming aware. Instead these analysts acknowledge that resistance provides insight into what constitutes the three sources of the behavioral and psychological patterns. The therapist can discover characteristics of early relationships that negatively impact present relationships and work to correct what was poorly formed (Greenberg & Cheselka, 1995).

Abraham (1924) wrote a significant paper regarding depression and obsession related to unpredictable changes of patients’ “objects.” Klein and Fairbairn were both influenced by this presentation but in very different ways. Klein (1935, 1946) emphasized the original relationship, with mother as the one who feeds the infant, as foundational to child development. She contended that the infant goes through two major shifts while in this original relationship and that later relationships are dependent upon the degree to which this first relationship was a success or failure. She identified the first shift as having to do with the paranoid schizoid position, as the infant becomes aware of its separation and deals with a struggle between its wish for survival (as separate) and its death wish (to be rejoined with mother). The defenses in this struggle are psychical splitting, idealization, projection, and introjection. The second shift takes place in what she referenced as the depressive position when the child realizes that mother is a separate whole person. This awareness drives the child to restore connection for survival. Within this struggle are ambivalent feelings regarding love. The infant yearns for connection but is also angry for being dependent. These conflicts, left unresolved in infancy affect future relationships. The therapist’s job is to assist the patient in resolving the conflicts by joining the patient in a two-person relationship in order to model what the patient missed in the earlier one between mother and child. I propose that when the therapist becomes the care-giving rescuer who interprets the patient’s problem within a theory, he or she has created the potential for a codependent relationship.

Fairbairn (1952) looked at the relationships that are formed as a result of the original relationship and identified them as closed or open. Current closed relationships, based on mother-infant relations that did not successfully transit survival-dependency conflicts, result in what he considers to be crippling division in the self. The part of self that is driven to reconnect is highly sexualized and the part that is driven to independence rejects sexuality. This conflict is repressed, yet is recapitulated, and any attempt to become aware of the division is resisted.

Bowlby (1969, 1973, 1980) and Ainsworth (1962, 1967, 1973, 1982) extended Fairbairn’s (1952) Neo-Freudian, object-relations theory by adding attachment theory, which introduced ethological concepts into psychoanalytic thought. Though not psychotherapeutic, per se, attachment theory provides therapists with ways to investigate relational behavior in the therapeutic relationship as a reflection of the original attachment with mother to determine if that attachment was secure based, insecure, or avoidant.

In this new relational psychotherapy, the patient comes to discuss a particular, concrete problem in the present that could expand to deeper or more general concerns. Instead of the therapist being the interpreter of the patient’s unconscious as in classical Freudian psychoanalysis, this new “relational-psychoanalysis” appears to be patient- oriented. The patient presents the material that will be the subject of the therapist-patient work, and the therapist is a guide, in the direction the patient already has chosen to go by pointing out resistances that inhibit the process. From this perspective, the patient’s unconscious is seen as a safe place for feelings and thoughts or “internalized objects” that would be anxiety provoking, if not debilitating, were they to be conscious (Greenberg & Cheselka, 1995). Resistance is interpreted as simply a protective facet of the unconscious and needs to be understood from a relational viewpoint. The therapeutic relationship, acting as a healthy model, can facilitate the transcending of unhealthy childhood relationships (Buckley, 1996; Fairbairn, 1952).

According to Fairbairn (1952), “the psychotherapist is the true successor to the exorcist. His business is not to pronounce the forgiveness of sins, but to cast out devils” (p.59), those devils being bad object relations. Fairbairn (1952) continued:

There is no doubt in my mind that the greatest source of resistance is the fear of the release of bad objects from the unconscious for, when such bad objects are released, the world around the patient becomes peopled with devils which are too terrifying for him to face. (p. 59)

The good object that takes the place of the bad object is the therapist. There is an assumption that this healthy relationship with the therapist stimulates the growth and strengthening of the arrested ego, thus allowing for the disclosure of inhibiting information that would have been destructive in the less developed ego-self.

Greenberg and Cheselka (1995) suggest that these “relational” psychoanalysts have a belief that conflict permeates all mental processes. “When the thought of exploring a particular issue becomes anxiety producing, aspects of the personality that are security seeking will come into play, and the person may avoid dealing with the very issue for which he/she came into treatment. (p. 66) It becomes the therapist’s job to notice the opposing forces and guide the patient back to the patient’s stated goal. The therapist’s responsibility is to help the patient fight against the resistance to discussing a subject by redirecting the conversation, by asking if the patient is trying to avoid something, perhaps some “bad object” or by drawing attention to something that is missing in the conversation. From this perspective, resistance is respected but also seen as something necessary to point out and remove.
Stark (1994) comes from a similar object relations perspective as Buckley (1996); Fairbairn (1952); Kohut (1959, 1968 a, 1968 b, 1971 1977, 1979, 1981,1984); Rowe (1982, 1993, 1994, a & b, 1996; Rowe & MacIsaac, 1989). She stated that patients are people who protect themselves from the pain of truly knowing their past and present objects. In order to avoid grief, they hold on to misconceptions. Stark (1994) noted that the patient must learn to accept the objects as they are and give up the illusions held of the objects to which they have maintained infantile attachment. She suggested that surviving the pain inherent in the illusion permits the patient to release infantile hope and embrace mature hope. The patient’s work in therapy, according to Stark (1994), is to work with 27 therapeutic tasks, such as arriving on time, talking about childhood events (reminiscent of Freud’s requirement that patients not hold back anything that comes to mind in free association), and getting angry without getting abusive. If patients resist working with the “tasks” the therapist must “articulate the intrapsychic conflict behind the patient’s distress in plain language” (Winer, 1995). Stark’s (1994) method, as in psychoanalytically based therapies, interprets the therapeutic relationship with what is seen as inherent transference characteristics. The relationship becomes the center of therapy, a substitute arena where qualities of the old relationships are worked through by confronting the resistance to the therapeutic relationship.

Horney (1937), who had been an instructor in psychoanalysis, was influenced by the work of anthropologists Ruth Benedict and Margaret Mead and adapted their findings to psychoanalysis. She rejected the tenets of penis envy and libido theory, which resulted in her dismissal from the New York Psychoanalytic Society. Horney (1937) expressed shock by the emphasis placed on success in America, a concept that she believed inevitably would cause a majority of people to feel they had “failed” in life. She saw human relationships that are contaminated by rivalry, as unable to possess genuine warmth and security. Horney (1937) saw this condition as disastrous for the development of a healthy, free personality since the need for security in a hostile world would become the basic dynamic in the formation of character.

Horney (1937) and Adler (1917) had similar interpretations regarding the drive to superiority but differed regarding the etiology of the drive. Adler attributed it to the external social conditions, and Horney interpreted it as coming from the mind attempting to create an artificial, but acceptable self, as if they are mutually exclusive rather than necessarily complementary. Resistance comes into play, according to this neo-Freudian’s perspective, as a means to not feel the pain when the pride system, or idealized self-image begins to be stripped away in psychoanalytic psychotherapy. The stripping occurs to replace the pride system with realization of the true self. Her contribution to psychoanalysis was the proposition that “tensions generated by a culture could be the cause of neurosis” (Lande, 1976).

In ego-psychology and object-relations therapy, I conclude that the maternalistic mother has overshadowed the paternalistic father in the role of therapist. Though it appears that attention is centered on the patient instead of the theory, the therapist still interprets what is occurring within the patient and the therapist’s responsibility is to become the person upon whom the patient is dependent to heal. As long as the therapist continues to define the interiority of the patient, what is really occurring within remains hidden as the relationship and the interpretation overshadow the internal process.

Self Psychology: The therapist as defender of the patient who is weak with resistance used by the patient to create safety.
A more recent change in psychoanalysis came with Kohut (1984) who proposed self psychology, a perspective that interprets the individual’s primary aim as the creation of a cohesive and fulfilled self. To him, the fulfillment of drives, the defense against conflicting wishes, or longing to absorb the objects to which one is attracted are objectives that are contradictory to individual needs. Objects with which someone is in relationship, or selfobjects as Kohut dubbed them, are important for their function in forming and fulfilling self, and not important for their intrinsic essence. Self psychology, as formed by Kohut (1959, 1968, 1977, 1981, 1984), and implemented most notably by Rowe (1982, 1989, 1993, 1994, 1996), moved from a theory-and-analyst based therapy to what was believed to be a more patient-centered approach. Self psychologists believe the patient’s experience, rather than psychoanalytic drive therory, has become the focus of psychotherapy. However, one might notice that theory continues to identify what the patient experiences. The patient who is now in front and center is one who relates to the world and everything in it from a personal utilitarian perspective, unable to experience a “thou” in “I and thou.”

In self psychology theory, the process of mirroring, whereby the caregiver reflects back to the infant what the infant is projecting outward, is seen as a fundamental need in the formation and development of the self. If mirroring is not satisfactorily achieved in the development process, the individual will have an enfeebled sense of self, and development will be arrested, since what is not reflected back is not identified or developed. Resistance to accessing the self is then formed to protect that frailty. Therefore, the therapist does not seek to overcome resistance because resistance is interpreted as necessary in preserving an undeveloped part of the individual. Instead, the therapist provides the function of mirroring to allow the arrested development to be re-stimulated toward completion. (Kohut, 1984, p. 615) “Self psychology’s focus on selfobject as the experience of a function provided is clearly different from that of object relations theory where the focus is on the object per se and not on the functions provided by the object” (Rowe, 1996, p.68). Strean (1996) a leading self psychologist explained that patients are able to move forward in the treatment when their need to maintain their developmental position is respected and resist forward movement when they feel misunderstood. This contrasts with to the classical Freudian view of resistance as “treatment interferences that must be overcome as they defend against awareness of impulses and allow for unconscious instinctual gratification. (Strean, 1996, p. 29)

Transference is still central to Kohut’s self psychology, but the focus is on the patient’s needs related to the developmental stage the patient is experiencing as he or she moves toward mature forms of selfobject transference. Rowe (1996) points out that patients who were seriously disillusioned as children will resist emerging needs to idealize for fear of further disillusionment. “Patients who have suffered humiliation will resist sharing unique thoughts and ideas that could be the target of critics” (p. 86).
Resistances to the development of the selfobject transferences in psychotherapy are, therefore, attempts to protect against being re-traumatized.

Rowe indicated that severely traumatized patients, who have serious defects in the structure of the self, return to these protective patterns of experiencing others during the “working through” process, as well as in times of development of new forms of selfobject transferences. He suggested that this is not a compulsion to repeat, which is the repeating of patterns of behavior that provide instinctual pleasure or unpleasure, as an effort to master and bind excitation. Returning to old patterns is simply going back to the known instead of risking unknown dangers in some new pattern. When the patient-in-resistance feels as if he or she is understood, a mirroring has taken place and the self is strengthened, causing the need for the resistance to disappear. The patient then continues to move up the developmental line toward maturity. The therapist remains in control and identifies the patient’s problems. The potential for codependency remains.

Existentialism: The therapist as companion of the lost patient with resistance as a defense of self-and-world construct.
The person-centered perspective of existential-humanistic psychotherapy grew spontaneously first in Europe in the 1940’s and in America in the 1950’s from psychiatrists and psychologists who believed that earlier theories did not deal with the actual, immediate person to whom things were happening. These therapists were aware that we are living in an age of transition that is experienced by almost every human being as a time of alienation from fellow humans, of threat by nuclear war and economic upsets, and of confusion from the radical changes. They note that we are all beset by anxiety. With the need to deal with this anxiety at its base, existential psychotherapy does not offer answers as much as it “asks deep questions about the nature of the human being and the nature of anxiety, despair, grief, loneliness, isolation, and anomie. It also deals centrally with the questions of creativity and love” (May & Yalom, 1995, p. 262-263).

Existential-humanistic interpretation of the psychodynamics of the human condition sees conflict as central to human experience. This conflict is not like that of the Freudian perspective that sees the individual as an instinctively driven being at war within the self and with the world. It is also not like the Neo-Freudian model that believes the conflict is relational with a struggle between growth toward autonomy and the need for security. The existential-humanist sees the conflict in terms of struggle between the individual and the “givens” of existence that ultimately concern each person. These are “death, freedom, isolation, and meaninglessness” (May & Yalom, 1995). The individual constructs defenses against awareness of these four fears and these constructs become the ground for experience. The resistance to awareness forms not only the world the individual constructs to block that awareness, but also creates the very discontent experienced within that world. This construction is intended to resist experiencing the pain of knowing that death is inevitable, that the self is responsible for what he or she makes of life, that each of us is ultimately alone, and that one must find his or her own meaning in a meaningless universe.

The existential-humanistic perspective recognizes that each person has a self-and-world construct that is, in fact, the life as experienced by that person. (Bugental, 1976, 1986, 1990, 1992; Bugental & Sterling, 1995) When an individual is experiencing life as not satisfactory, it is necessary to change the way of being and the view of the world that is held. The problem is that the subject matter that is being investigated in order to make the changes is the very ground from which the examination takes place. To dismantle the ground is tantamount to the destruction of the self-and-world construct, which is experienced as destruction of the self and life. But to not change the self-and–world construct is to continue to live unsatisfactorily, which too, may seem like self-destruction. Bugental and Sterling (1995) have pointed out that “a person’s self-and-world construct system is that person’s life—or at least the plan or pattern for that person’s life” (p. 234). If that system has been able to evolve in such a way that it provides reasonably dependable outcomes and prevents excessive stresses, it will be strongly defended and will resist any attempt to change it. What may be less obvious is that even if the system does not work so well, the person is still likely to defend it. This is what creates the task of existential-humanistic depth psychotherapy that seeks to assist the patient in making lasting life changes. When the experience of life is too overwhelming, he or she may be willing to consider changing the construct, but the closer to the change, the more overwhelming the fear of the loss of the current construct and self destruction.

This perspective suggests that resistance and defense are two aspects of the same process: the preservation of the self-and-world construct system that the patient feels is necessary to his or her life and yet is destroying life. There is a struggle between the maintenance of the system and dismantling it, which places the patient in a catch-22 situation. It is a gamble of current benefit/costs against hypothetically greater future benefits without any assurance that giving up the former will produce the latter.

If the therapist is to be useful, he or she must be an ally who can remain with the person as a supportive companion while the patient finds his or her own way out of the seemingly impossible trap. However, if the therapist conceives resistance as being in opposition to therapeutic intervention instead of an understandable defense of the only way the patient knows how to live in the world, the therapist becomes an adversary instead of an ally. The patient may now have to resist the therapist’s pressure to change the self-and-world construct as well as their own inner conflict about the change. Instead of facilitating change, the therapist interferes with the transformation process that is being called into existence by the challenge. When the therapist is seen as an adversary the patient may resist the direction toward which he or she believes that the therapist is trying to push (Bugental, 1976; Bugental & Sterling, 1995; Gilligan, Rogers, & Tolman, 1997).

Bugental (1976) differs from therapists who interpret resistance to be the patient’s defense against the interpretations of behavior made by therapists. Instead he defines resistance as:
…the impulse to protect one’s familiar identity and known world against perceived threat. In depth psychotherapy, resistance is those ways in which the patient avoids being truly subjectively present—accessible and expressive—in the therapeutic work. The conscious or unconscious threat is that immersion will bring challenges to the patient’s being in her world. (p. 175)

Bugental (1976) suggests that resistance, outside of therapy, as well as in therapy, results in inauthentic being. The person has removed him or her self from subjective experience and avoids presence in life by objectifying the self. May (1991) in The Cry for Myth, uses the Oedipus myth (Freud, 1924) itself to point out that it is not just fantasy that is significant in human nature (and, therefore, in any therapy process that deals with human nature). The resistance to knowing the truth of the fantasy for which one wishes is also central to our natures and to therapy (p.73).
Bugental and Sterling (1995) identify what he calls two capacities of human beings. One capacity holds the “learning” that has been incorporated into a person’s personal knowledge. This is what we call on when we encounter something that is familiar. These authors contend that “searching,” the second process, is complementary to learning and is called on:

When we do not have a satisfactory pre-established path for dealing with a situation of importance to us. Searching involves risking openness to the unknown, exploring possibilities, experimenting with some that seem likely, using alternative paths when blocked, and eventually resolving the situation. (p. 235)

This searching capacity has been given greater attention in psychotherapy and has been named “free association” in psychoanalysis, “unfolding” by Buber (1970) and “focusing” by Gendlin (1978), all similar ways of tapping into the same human power.

By assisting the patient in his or her internal investigation through seeking, an understanding and reorganization of information can occur. The expanding, deepening, and transforming of self-and-world structures can take place. In order for this transformation to occur, the therapist reflects back to the patient old defensive patterns that have been part of the old self-and-world structures that protect, but also stand in the way of changes the patient wants to make. The resistance must be “worked through” at the time it occurs by continually pointing it out and asking the patient to become conscious of the patterns and their ill consequences.
It is highly desirable for the therapeutic relationship to become strong enough to support the patient as he or she begins to call into question self-definition and world-view. This level of work is with character structures and arises “from experience that actually began at the preverbal level and then…(became)…extended and modified by the patient’s life and inner promptings” (Bugental & Sterling, 1995). Once this level is reached in the patient, the relationship with the therapist (as in Fairbairn, 1952; Klein, 1935, 1946; Kohut, 1959, 1968, 1977, 1981, 1984) becomes a part of the self-and-world construct, then major self-and-world structures can be reconstructed.

Bugental and Sterling (1995) identify three distinguishing aspects of existential-humanistic psychotherapy. The first is that the therapist does not attempt to account for the patient’s symptoms in terms of the patient’s history. “Purpose, rather than cause, is the decisive dynamic” (Raskin & Rogers, 1995). Causal thinking, they suggest, objectifies the patient and loses genuine presence needed for productive searching. According to Bugental and Sterling (1995) instead of looking into the patient’s history, the therapist must focus on how the patient is in the world and how the patient is attempting to make his or her life more pleasant in the present. The second characteristic, like most of the other methods, is that the therapist’s job is to assist the patient in fostering inner awareness, by identifying the resistances. Finally, the therapist, as Adler insisted, is an educator, facilitating the enlargement and change of the patient’s way of being in the world. This is not a medical, curative, or healing process, it is educational. (p. 249). One might question the need to make these therapeutic outcomes oppositional or exclusive.
As person-centered as this approach appears to be, the therapist remains the one who maintains focus on the present and uses the past only to identify character structures. The therapist identifies the resistance and has determined the patient’s interior experience based on a theory. The therapist’s objective remains in that the focus is on how the patient is in the world and how the patient is attempting to make his or her life more pleasant in the present, instead of encouraging the patient to go inward to discover resistance, repression, experience, and meaning.

Other Therapeutic Relationships
Otto Rank (1929) proposed that birth created suffering, and was the greatest trauma of all. He suggested that there is an unconscious longing to return to the womb, similar to Klein’s (1935, 1946) paranoid schizoid shift. He proposed that all of a person’s life experience is formed by the birth experience. Transference is interpreted as reenactment of the infant’s mother fixation. Healing occurs after abreaction to the birth trauma, and successful separation from the analyst has occurred. In this relationship, the therapist is the coach and resistance is evidence of a patient’s will to independence, and therefore a positive factor. Rank focused on the immediate analytic situation rather than on the past. He emphasized ‘experiencing’ rather than learning, and becoming aware of the patterns of reaction rather than analyzing individual experiences. The will to self-determination and the creative aspects of the patients behavior received attention. Rank (1929) determined that instead of wearing down resistance, as a Freudian analyst would likely attempt, resistance should be used to direct self-discovery and development. While there may be truth here for some patients, someone who experienced abandonment and resists reconnecting with the debilitating pain of separation by non-attachment may not identify with a therapist who can only see a need for independence.

Wilhelm Reich (1933), a psychoanalyst, shifted the Freudian focus on sexual energy, from the drive perspective, to a biological-energetic perspective. He proposed that social inhibitions against sexual expression and resistance to those inhibitions created not only psychological disturbance but also muscular tension and eventually, physical illness. While Freud and Adler applauded the constraints of society, Reich, like Horney, believed that society is the cause of the tension and illness. Reich contended that dissolving of the psychic resistance is parallel to that of the “muscle armour” that relaxes in the release of sexual tension. The idea that the body could hold psychological tension became a component in the explosion of body therapies in the decades that followed (Bing et al, 1999). Like Freud who limited the libido to sexuality without including will and striving, Reich limits his theory to sexual tension when it is possible that others may suffer from tensions caused by other issues. A narrow understanding of body tension may distract the patient from searching for unconscious psychophysiological response to the other forms of trauma that remain hidden and resisted.

Perhaps the two theories that came closest to being interior-oriented were Rogerian Psychotherapy and Jungian Analytical Psychology. Yet they, too, created forms that contain the potential for missing the information the client resists. Roger’s (1951, 1961) perspective appears to be person-centered. He presented a method whereby resistance is circumvented by not engaging it. The job of the therapist as in self psychology is simply to mirror back to the patient what the patient presents. However, to focus fully on the patient as if the therapist and the relationship do not exist other than as a mirror of the patient, is to assume that the “mirror” reflects only the patient, rather than the therapist’s image of the patient. I propose that to resist resistance by entering the therapeutic relationship in a way that does not engage resistance may lead to a possible dismissal, denial, diminishing, or dissociating of what is deeply buried and resisted. A therapy that has created a method that makes the therapist invisible, perhaps is a metaphor for a theorist, as well as a therapist, who cannot see him or her self.

Jung (1934, 1936,1939) was a seasoned veteran of the inner-journey, having spent six years on his own quest that led beyond the personal unconscious into the collective unconscious. He believed that the journey inward opened to “the reservoir of thoughts and images of all mankind, a sort of agglomeration of the archetypes…(that are)…preexisting forms that seem to be the inherited structure of the psyche” (Lande, 1976, p. 39). Corsini and Wedding (1995), editors of Current Psychotherapies, described Jungian psychology as especially inclusive in that it embraces concepts from Janet, Freud, and Adler. However, Jung added wholeness, completion, and individuation. The editors point out that this perspective allows for the “depths of the collective unconscious and width of humanity’s collective history, art, and culture while grounding itself solidly in the particular individual at a particular time and moment” (p. 125). What is significant about Jung’s experience toward individuation and wholeness is that he took the journey by himself. After having had his own experience, he outlined the journey for others, recommended that all analysts go through analysis and advised anyone seeking individuation to then take their inner quest in analysis only with a seasoned veteran. Regarding that journey, Jung pointed out: “the dread and resistance which every natural human being experiences when it comes to delving too deeply into himself, is, at bottom, the fear of the journey into Hades” (1953, V. 12. p. 336).

In detailing the domain of the personal and collective unconscious, and identifying all the internal and archetypal players, Jung created a path for others to follow. However, by detailing that path, it is possible that the apprentice may not be able to discover his own individuation because a master-in-the-making must create his own path by surrendering to the journey, not to his master’s path. I propose that Jung created a system that has the potential to produce technicians rather than masters, and they may find what Jung found rather than discover their own resistances, their own Hades.

Ellenberger (1970) made a summation of the inner journeys of Freud and Jung by noting that:
Those who undertake a Freudian analysis will soon develop intensive transference neurosis, have Freudian dreams, and discover their Oedipus complex, child sexuality, and castration anxiety. Those who undertake a Jungian analysis will have Jungian dreams, confront their shadow, their anima, their archetypes and pursue individuation. (p. 737)

I propose that the same observation can be applied to of any of the therapies reviewed in this study. Those patients who identify with the world-view of their therapists or those who have a need to be compliant in a codependent relationship may organize their therapeutic experience around the therapy presented. Those patients who follow the therapist out of codependency will likely find what the therapist expects them to find. Those who do not identify with the therapeutic world-view or have a codependent need to challenge the control of the therapist will be resistant and may, together with the therapist, focus on the external relationship instead of search for what information is being resisted. It would be possible for the compliant or resistive patient to miss what is hidden within the self as the patient focuses on working with or against the therapist. If the relationship is the focus of therapy, the very resistance experienced within the interiority of the patient is duplicated in the relationship. If the therapist is also using his or her therapeutic perspective as a means to resist his or her internally repressed information, not only is a codependent relationship established with the patient, but an unconscious complicity may be established. Therapy may parallel the resistance of the patient as well as the therapist and the theory.

The Pattern
After reviewing psychoanalysis and the major theories that have been influenced by or evolved from psychoanalysis, I have noticed a pattern that I propose creates the codependent therapeutic relationship. Psychotherapists with pre-conceptions regarding what causes neuroses are confronted with patients who have psychological disturbance. The patients reveal their neuroses and what the therapists interprets, the patients may resist. The job of therapists is to continue to interpret the problems and confront the resistance until the patients accept the interpretation and release the neuroses. What may not be as obvious in this pattern, I believe, is that theorists bring their personal experiences as well as their resistances into the observations, the formation of the theories, and the interpretation of patients. (Freud’s struggle with his father can be seen in the Oedipal theory and Adler’s competition with his older brother seems to have made its way into the theory of inferiority.) Another part of the pattern that may not be noticed is that, too often, the theory rather than the person is what is seen. Theories based on the observation of patients as in the case of person-centered therapies, those founded on some application of natural science as in psychoanalysis, or the ones growing out of medical discovery as in individual psychology, get in the way of the persons who sit in front of therapists. Without the patient experiencing his or her interiority, the internal process of resistance remains unaddressed.
Jung (1954) proposed that the outside world can only be known through a person’s internal images of the outside world. The images and the organization of them into meaning are largely unconscious. Therefore, what each of us perceives is largely determined by who we are. What each theorist concluded about others is likely more a reflection of his or her interiority than about anyone who might be sitting in the patient’s chair or lying on the couch. The assumption that the theory is correct, focuses attention on the assumption rather than on the patient’s internal experience and the patient is not seen.

Conclusions and a Non-Traditional Interpretation of Resistance
I propose that Freud’s shift in focus from the internal experience of the patient, to the external therapeutic relationship and to the theory regarding interiority and resistance, became the prototype for major psychotherapeutic theories, in spite of the fact that some are considered to be patient-centered. Historically, the theoretic stance, rather than the patient experiencing his or her interiority, is what identifies and interprets the internal experience of the patient. That stance also defines internal resistance in terms of patient resistance to therapy.

From this review I conclude that underneath resistance there is pain (e.g., Breuer & Freud, 1995; Buckley, 1996; Freud, 1933; Horney, 1939; Jung, 1953; Stark, 1994) related to unresolved, unexpressed and, therefore, unintegrated experience. This review supports the conclusion that underneath the pain there is fear (Freud , Adler, Jung, Fairbairn, Rowe, Bugental). Dissociation from pain and fear related information regarding painful experiences creates internal disturbance, which in turn creates neuroses. Current psychotherapies have evolved from early attempts to address these debilitating neuroses. However external observation rather than internal exploration of the pain and fear has produced therapeutic methods that have inherent limitations at best and are complicit in the unconscious conspiracy to resist awareness of interiority at worst.

I submit that neuroses are healed when the patient garners the courage to feel the pain, and surrender to the fear of what the pain means. Without a therapist or a theory deciding ahead of time what is painful or feared, the patient is able to discover what has been repressed and resisted. This can only be done by rejecting Freud’s (1900) collapsed definition of resistance and giving credence to the patients’ experience of his or her own interiority. In so doing, the patient has the responsibility to discover the cause of the problem and the therapist becomes a facilitator for the patient’s self-search. The unaddressed resistance may be related to sexual abuse or sexual fantasy; resistance may be covering the fear of inferiority or the lack of a loving relationship with mother. It may be an existential struggle regarding death, or related to the shock of being born. It may be the pain of having choice removed or the fear of making a wrong choice when given freedom to choose or any of the experiences we have in being human. But this is for the patient to discover, not for the therapist to determine based on a theory. There is no need control the self-search, and no need to prove or disprove any particular theory.

The more that the therapist has done his or her own self-searching to overcome pain and face fear, the more effectively the therapist can be a facilitator for the patient’s investigation rather than a role player in a codependent relationship. The patient can know that another human being has plunged into Hades, and made it out to the other side. Both Freud and Jung recommended that analysts go through analysis to know how to direct the patient on the journey. I propose that the value of the therapist taking the journey inward is that theory, therapy, and the patient do not receive projections of the therapist’s resistance, which frees therapist and patient to focus on the disturbance that caused the patient to begin the therapeutic process. I contend that the truly effective therapist is one who has taken his or her own inner journey and has discovered and overcome resistances that hide the pain. After experiencing a successful journey, the therapist no longer needs to use relationships, including therapeutic relationships to enhance self-esteem, to feel empowered in life, and to be assured of self-worth and worthiness. The therapist can authentically enter a therapeutic relationship that acknowledges the esteem, the power, and the worthiness of the patient to discover his or her own interiority and take responsibility for self-healing.

Personal Reflections
I became interested in resistance in psychotherapy as a result of my own struggle with internal resistance in a particular area of my life. I wanted to review what theorists had discovered about the interior process that would allow me to better access my own resistance. However, as I reviewed each of the therapeutic positions included in this study, I found a myriad of observational explanations regarding the cause of resistance and how it plays out in the therapeutic setting, but found little about the internal confrontation of one’s own resistance from the experiential perspective. It would be a useful contribution to the literature to conduct heuristic self-search inquiry (Moustakas, 1990, Sela-Smith, 2001) from a researcher-as-participant perspective into overcoming resistance.

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