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Hipnotherapy - August 2008

The Gratitude Project: Day 20: Removing the Crown of Glory

August 29th 2008 04:09

In my never ending attempt in self improvement, I must be willing to admit that there is a side of human nature that loves how it feels to feel superior. I think we are all susceptible to being dominated by this self-centered side of our nature, which is extremely fearful of not feeling worth anything unless it is viewed as special or superior to others in some way. Few people are content to be counted among the ordinary, the average. Most want to be counted among the elite: those who believe that they deserve more respect and consideration than others.

We are all born equally worthy or respect and consideration, but we are not all born into equally challenging circumstances. Many people are considered special to other people in their individual lives, but no one is special compared to all other people. The more we are willing to accept these truths and let go of the desire to feel superior, the sooner we will see real and lasting change throughout the world. and the sooner we will develop self-worth that is fearless and independent, built upon a foundation of fair-minded authenticity rather than the illusion of superiority.

With this in mind. I recognize that as a human I probably idealize myself. I remember that I am an imperfect human being blind and unaware of many things. I need to take off that halo of superiority and polish it due to my heretofore recognizable self centeredness! I am grateful for the opportunity to be reminded every day that I am just "little 'ol me."

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The Gratitude Project: Day 19: Simple Pleasure

August 17th 2008 03:40

If I had to name my top three most pleasurable things in life, the things I simply couldn’t enjoy life without, I’d have to boil them down to sex, friendship (family included), and food. Not just mediocre sex, friendship, and food mind you. I am talking about exquisite, luscious, totally satisfying sex, friendship, and food. Give me that, as well as music, writing, stimulating conversation, film and creative arts and I am pretty much set. (This post is not about friendship or food.)

I love perfect moments of lust and love. Sex for me is one of those times when I can completely let go of myself and feel entirely whole, perfect, and beautiful, and close to whatever there is that is divine in this world. Perfection is that point of gratitude in the midst of really good, really intense, really mind-blowing sex with someone who I have realized has won his way into my heart and my soul. Great sex sends my spirit shooting heavenward, giddily, recklessly, and exploding in showers of sparkling light. Divine fireworks, making me shine from the inside out.

I have tasted the dizzying edge of passion. Passion was consuming. It was like drinking double shot of strong whiskey brewed by Uncle Hank; it burned my throat, warmed my stomach, numbed my mind, and sometimes blinded me too, but the sensation was short lived. I had to risk a hangover. I have experienced thrill.. It was exciting and heart pounding but I believe if presented with this daily, I don’t know how I would manage it on a daily basis (I think that I would try my damnedest)

For me, sex is an act of benediction, godliness, and imagination. Sex, though a completely human experience has a totally spiritual vibe. A friend of mine in seminary once said that "during sex , we become wholly God in both body and soul through grace and the divine brightness of the beatifying glory permeates the whole person. The divine erotic power, moves others and itself moves since it thirsts to be thirsted for longs to be longed for and loves to be loved."

I know there is something sacred about sex, but most folks don’t know what to do about it. What is expressed is usually mixed up with all kinds of fears and conditionings. We should not fool ourselves into thinking that getting rid of repressive forms means knowing how to express something pure. Sex is not a merely human experience but a spiritual experience. It is a fruit of the spirit a grace. It is a joy that comes to us from a place outside of ourselves, or from so deep inside that we cannot reach it at will.

Most of us are surprised by the joy of sex. It bursts upon us in moments of great happiness, in a world flooded with beauty in an ecstasy of love (if you are so lucky). We recognize it is a song of the soul a spontaneous responsibility of the human spirit when it is able to stop away beyond to confines of it’s own ego. I see sex as an essential mysterious of things. Sex has so many incarnations: the naughty dirty kind, the sweet lovey kind or even just the good old plain Jane comfort kind. I enjoy sweet, affectionate, heartfelt sex. That mixed with some excitant (wink) is perfection.

I realize that sex isn’t always fireworks, there is an ordinariness of sex. It is obedient to its own rhythms something never wholly under man’s control. Sexual passion strips away illusions and disguises while revealing her there identity. Erotic love is connected to a transcendent state. It is a natural and as astonishing and mysterious as fireflies. I don’t always want the rush of wildfire and then the scorched forest of cold ashes. Ii sometimes want a long, steady burn. Time to luxuriate in the glow. Time to build it high and steady and strong, time to thrill at every crackle, time to warm the skin. I appreciate time…time to savor each moment and to think of how much it feels like home.

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The Gratitude Project: Day 18: Honoring the Inside/Outside Me

August 9th 2008 02:25

I hear often how folks have these ah ha moments when they realize that they are not ugly. It strikes me how common that seems to be. So many folks who have expressed either shock at the realization that they were actually seen as beautiful, handsome or arousing to others, or their fears about other’s criticism of their appearance.

Beautiful people appear to enjoy an image-based and/or financially-based prestige which enhances their aura of success, power, and beauty. My guess is that the pressure to maintain this is relentless. Everyone is always telling you to do more….exercising, plastic surgery, or calorie restriction. But just look at the pages of Vogue magazine, there you will see how serious they are about extreme-thin, glorified and extolled in luxurious full color -- the girlish femurs, humeri and sinews of high-paid models all on display. As America fattens, fashion narrows. Because it is elite -- just like the corset. And that is why the Voguish classes are deadly serious about retaining their "stays" -- the ones within.

One of the “stays” is the strive for perfection. We struggle to meet an ideal, to conform to what we believe constitutes attractiveness. We’re overweight, we’re underweight. We have wrinkles; we have stretch marks, scars and cellulite. We paint our faces; color our hair, wear the perfect outfit, slather body creams and lotions on our skin. We shave, we pluck, and we wax. Our legs are too long, too short, and too flabby. Our hands are too large, too small, and too rough. We fight our imperfections daily - whether for others or for ourselves. When we did we stop appreciating that our imperfections are what make us human?

I have noticed that one is described in two ways in the world in relation to appearance. You’re either physically hot, or you have a nice personality. You don’t get both. It’s like people have this filter--they simply can’t see both at once. Or, when on the rare occasion both seem to manage to come through, you hear stupid things like, “The best thing about him/her is that one is gorgeous, but he/she's so nice/smart/etc.—and has no idea how hot he/she is. It is so stupid that people assume that because you’re physically beautiful, you have to be empty of positive personality traits. And, of course, conversely, if you have positive personality traits, you can’t be beautiful. They don’t go together.

I’ve recognized a weird phenomenon in myself of late. Throughout my life, when folks have told me I’m pretty, I tended (well, still tend) to think of myself as “cute” at best (a word/concept which I hate), but really the kind of darker, more ethnic looking girl. I am “the sidekick” or the one who makes the insightful comments. You know, the kind of girl who, when you’re setting a friend up on a date with, you mention she has a “nice personality” by way of an apology for her not being hotter. OUCH!

Meanwhile, having said this, I have these weird epiphany moments of looking back at old pictures. In my 20s, I found a photo of myself at about 14 or 15 and was shocked. I mean, I couldn’t believe it. In the photo I looked…well, stunning, really. I didn’t recognize myself as that at all when I was 15. And as a 20-something looking at that photo, I remember thinking, “If only I’d realized then how beautiful I was…" And then I went along in my 20s the same way I did in my teens. I always thought I was ordinary and I just wouldn’t allow myself to believe I was anything too special or especially alluring. Now I’m in my 40s. And I look back at photos of myself when I was in my 30s and have the same shock of recognition. And again, I think, “If only I’d realized...” Why is it that anyone who expresses the opinion that our body or face was beautiful to be highly suspect. Maybe we think they could only see that, and wouldn’t be interested in the rest. Maybe we worry that if Iwe allow ourselves to we are physically pretty, it meant no one would believe we have any substance behind it.

I think of the power we would have had, feeling confident in both our bodies and soul. In knowing it wasn’t arrogant to be both beautiful inside and out—of knowing each fed the other—and that it was okay to be proud of it. I strive to appreciate how beautiful I am from a present perspective, not only in the past. I keep changing with each decade. And with each change, I continue to think it’s making me less of what I was, and it’s too late to catch up to how I should have felt about myself.I really don’t want to be 50-something and thinking I wasted my 40s not allowing myself to feel I’m everything I really am. That I’m inside/out beautiful, like everyone else. I am trying at the moment to be content to do what I can with what I have and let the world take care of itself. Live my life in the peace of having conquered the fear of not knowing what I “missed”. I want to come home to myself with regard to my appearance. I know that my appearance will change over time. And instead of fighting change, surely I should be embracing it. Taking strength from my flaws and appreciating that my weathered skin represents my life. I know that every line tells a story, reminding me of something I do not want to forget. They mean nothing to anyone else.

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The Gratitude Project: Day 17: Strength

August 6th 2008 01:02

Addicts are endless sources of entertainment. Think Trainspotting and Requim for a Dream . It's an odd mix of voyeurism and in my view, a puritanical anti-drug zeal. Patheticness, degradation, and squalor are emphasized. Don't get me wrong, addiction is unglamorous in the extreme. The stories I've heard as a counselor; and lives I have witnessed….unbelievable. There can be sadness and loss, loathing and remorse, much less the unpleasant physical consequences of using. And that's just the personal shit; worse is the havoc wreaked on friends and loved ones. Then there are the “others” The most dangerous of all addicts……these folks could be described as creative, bright, fun loving, and bigger than life…..these were the ones I personally knew.

By The Book’s definition, addiction is based in not only some chemical imbalance but also in some sort of undiagnosed (or diagnosed) mental illness… predominately depression or anxiety. In my practice and in my life, I see fear as the cornerstone of addiction or maybe they desire to muffle the truth. Many folks are fearful or feel worthless about who they are and about their abilities and how much better it feels to look elsewhere…in the bottom of a glass, a pill bottle, at a blackjack table, or during soulless sex, instead of sitting in the feeling of having to really own their shit and moving on. I guess most of us are reluctant to shine a light on the dark recesses of who we really are

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The Gratitude Project: Day 16: Time

August 4th 2008 00:25

After my finance's death when I was 21, I was in such a fragile state…. so filled with darkness. I did not know where I was. I was lost. Intellectually I was aware that the bereaved lose many different things with death. Often they lose not only the person, but the self that was in the relationship to that person and in a sense, the self they knew is lost. Prior to this time, I felt invincible and strong. It never occurred to me that there might be an alternative future for me. I was filled with anti-rage…an otherworldly stillness. I was walking underwater in mud trudging through my life. My world melted. I felt like everyone was speaking in far ancient tongues. I was upended and just wanted to be at peace and I was fearful that I would end up with a bitter hardened heart.

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Gratitude Project: Day 15: Childhood Hearts

August 1st 2008 20:56

My grandmother said that I was “born with a mind quick and clever and delightfully odd, with a heart purer and more perfect than the most rarified air.” She believed that I was good beyond even the limits of her own imagination. She said that I was a “beacon of light, born into a world of dark mirrors and shadow.”

I started out innocently and openly displaying all that I was. My grandmother told my parents that I was unaware of my own magnetic qualities and how darkness is drawn to envelop light. She warned them not to put me out in the world “untrained” and ‘unprepared” for “the desire” and angry neglect and disregard my good nature might inspire. And so it began. I stood there, a gleaming china figurine in a curiosity shop. Feeling the ground shake beneath me as hulking, brutish figures stomped by, some reaching out, handling me too roughly, until cracking began. There was chipping, breaking in half and gluing back together again

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